And So It Goes....

This morning starts out with a phone call at 5:20 from a phone number I didn’t recognize.  By the time I rolled out of bed and blindly fumbled around my nightstand looking for the phone (which wasn’t there because a certain teenager took it out of my room and did not return it), the caller hung up without leaving a message.  I tried to go back to sleep, but when you know your alarm is going to sound-off in 10 minutes, sleep becomes evasive so I just got up to make my coffee.  As I’m waiting for my morning shot of caffeine to brew, I decided to call my office’s weather line to check on the status of our building.  The voice on the recording told me we had a two hour delay.  Whoop!!!  That meant I could putter around and take my time.  Bahah!!  Not really.  By the time I finished searching (unsuccessfully) through all of my kitchen cabinets looking for a lid to fit one of the FOUR thermoses we have, it was time to wake up Emma.  

This is a big day for Emma.  She is heading out to Fairmont, WV with several other band students to audition for a seat in the West Virginia All-State Band.  She has been practicing for a couple of months.  I thought she’d hop right out of bed because she’s been so excited about this.  Hah!  I don’t know what I was thinking, but it was the same grunts, groans, and other sounds and indistinguishable words she mutters at me on any given morning.  After a few minutes of her doing something (really, I have no idea what she does nor why it takes so long for her to do, but it is an unexplainable phenomenon that takes place every morning in my house), she staggers into my room with bleary eyes and a frown on her face and blurts out “Should I straighten my hair?”  Not really a question, but more like an accusatory statement.   

I imagine she thinks it’s my fault the curls she put in last night did not last, but instead turned into a frizzy mess.   I take a sip (ok, more like a giant swig) of my coffee, tilt my head as I smile and say “If you want to, sweetie.  You have plenty of time to use a curling iron or straightening iron.  Whichever you choose, though, you really should get moving.” To which she replied “But it’s going to take longer than an hour and a half to curl my hair!”…. Big inhale, another sip of coffee, “Well then, you should probably straighten it.”  “Fine.”

Less than twenty minutes later, I’m walking up the stairs after filling up my cup with that sweet waking elixir when I hear…. sobbing.  Seriously?  Really?  Why?!?!?!  Argh!  I put my coffee cup on my vanity and then open Emma’s bathroom door to find her standing there in tears.  

“I’m just not going to go!”

I assumed she was upset about her hair, so I grabbed her hairbrush and started brushing her hair.  “Why didn’t you just call me if you needed help?”

“I don’t know why I’m going anyway.  I’m not good enough. Everyone else is so much better than me”.

“Emma, you are a wonderful trumpet player.  Besides, aren’t you doing this for the experience?  You are a Freshman, you have three more years to audition”.

Sobbing, “Yeah, and I’m not going to make it for three more years”.

It’s her anxiety.  Her feet are going a mile a minute and she can’t calm herself down.  I hate anxiety.  Anxiety is a bitch and I wish she’d leave my daughter alone.  When a person is caught up in the throes of an anxiety melt-down, it is very difficult for them to rationalize anything.  As a parent you can yell at them, which does nothing except exacerbate the problem, or you can do something that helps them.  With Emma, I have to hold her as tightly as I can until she gets her breathing back under control.  This does not mean I haven’t screamed at her – I am guilty of having done that – but I really try to remember that this is something she cannot control.  Her anxiety is part of the reason why I’ve never let her swim on a year-round swim team, as many times as she’s begged me to let her do it.  Of course, her episodes have become very infrequent as she has matured.  I know she works hard to control her anxiety on a daily basis, but sometimes it’s too much for her.  Pass along any good tips for controlling anxiety if you have any.  

After I finally get her calmed down, she finishes getting ready and we leave the house on-time.  ON. FREAKING. TIME.  Of course, today the roads are terrible, but my van has awesome tires.  As we cross over from the road we live off of to Job Corps Road, I realize we are behind quite a few cars.  At the front of this line of 7 cars, is a van going between 20 and 25 miles per hour. Not a problem, because we left ON TIME (wasn’t sure if I had mentioned that or not).  We get to the school with a few minutes to spare, I walk her in, give her a big hug and kiss, wish her good luck, and leave.  I planned on going back home because it was cold and I had to work from home.  I get halfway down a certain road when I look ahead and see that same van we were behind earlier, trying to get up a hill.  I am glad I had the foresight to stop, because the reverse lights came on and the van backed down the hill.  I waited as the van tried to get up the hill again, only to back-up again.  As it was heading up for the third attempt (at least the third while I was there), I decided to back up, turn around, and go the long way home.  

I decided to go to the grocery store to pick up a few things.  As I was about to get out of the van, my phone rang.  “MOM. MOM. MOM. MOM.  PICK UP MOM”.  

“What do you want, Emma?” 

“I forgot my permission slip!  I need you to bring it to me!” 

“What do you mean you forgot it? It has been hanging on the front door for over a week now, signed and everything.  You knew it was there.”  

“Can you just bring it to me?” 

“I’m not at home.  Can someone print one for me at the school and I’ll sign it?”

“You can just write it on a piece of paper”

“Fine.  I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Less than five minutes later she called again to find out where I was. Seriously?  The roads are icy and snow-packed yet it only took nine minutes from when the first phone call ended until the time I pulled into the school parking lot. I scribbled something on a blank piece of paper, signed it, handed it to a teacher, and drove back to the store.  I seriously considered buying a six pack of beer, but thought the better of it and bought a carton of chocolate soy milk to drown my sorrows in.  Still thinking about the beer.  Maybe I’ll go out again… but I won’t.  Maybe I’ll take a hot bath.  Yeah, that sounds even better.

2013 ~ The Year in Review

(this is still in-progress)

2013 slowly rolled in for us.  In January, Derek started out the year in a wheelchair as he recovered from surgery to repair his torn ACL.  The first week of January found Emma with a “new” Goetzen trumpet.  Talk about an awesome Craig’s List purchase.  Hopefully we’ll be able to buy a Bach Strad for her this summer.

February was very, very quiet.  I believe there was probably soccer.  Yes, there was soccer.  We were all talking about the impending furlough.  Emma met Christian Lopez and Michael Silver.  Oh, there were jazz festivals too.

March brought the very first birthday party Emma has ever had.  Does that make me a bad mommy?  I don’t think so.  She had a great time with her friends at Adventure Park USA in Frederick.  I’m pretty sure that made up for the previous 12 years of no birthday parties.  March also brought a huge promotion for me. I never, ever, ever (not even in my wildest dreams) thought I’d be where I am in my career.  Who’d have thunk it??  Not I.  March also brought a big snowstorm with it. I also recall that the pump in our well died  (again... perhaps number 3 will be lucky??).  

I turned 44 in April.  WOOHOO!  I’m sure many of my coworkers remember this month particularly well, since 95 of them lost their jobs on April 3rd.  I bought my first used MacBook in April (which has died twice since then).  And soccer.  More soccer (did I mention soccer). 

May started out innocently enough.  Emma was still playing soccer, I brought Derek home for the summer after his first year of college, I went to Teri Biebel’s book reading, Frank bought a new car, and then my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.  Her mastectomy was on May 31, a day I will remember for the rest of my life.  

June brought the wonderful addition of my nieces to our home.  When I was with my parents during my mother’s recovery, I saw how horrific the situation with my youngest brother, his wife, and their children was .  They had always been hoarders, they had always had mental health issues, but what they added to that terrible mix was drug addiction.  Fortunately they were open to letting us take the girls while they “got themselves together”.  Terri’s mother took the baby before we were able to.  She said she couldn’t leave her in that mess.  The next day, we took Nora and Lilly.  The girls loved getting baths, having clean clothes to wear, sleeping in a clean bed, and eating as a family (hell, just eating at all).  Lilly stayed with my other brother and his wife at first, and then came to stay with us.  I cannot help but to cry everytime I think about them.  I love them so much, it hurts my heart.  Their mom seemed to be doing good at the VA Hospital in Florida, admitting to me their use of drugs and alcoholism.  Unfortunately, she only spent a week (maybe nine days) in the hospital before she was released.  Of course, she immediately forgot about how they treated their children and started to act like her old self.  

Our time in June and July was spent with these beautiful girls.  They had to learn that mommies and daddies don’t hit each other (or them).  They were shocked to see Frank and I hold hands or give each other hugs and kisses.  Both girls enjoyed going to swim team practice with Emma.  Derek also spent a lot of time with Nora and Lilly, and developed quite a bond with them.  Nora went from not even looking at Derek to climbing onto his lap to watch cartoons.

We had a great CPS investigator here in West Virginia; however, the Investigator from Maryland (who was the case agent) was young and inexperienced.  She told us to file for protective custody in West Virginia, which was the wrong thing to do.  Ultimately, on July 23rd, we had to give the girls back to their parents.  They are in Florida and I hope they are safe, although given the repeated history of hoarding, drug use, and alcoholism I’m not sure they are.  

Enough of that (because it is on my mind every day).  In July, Emma saw her favorite band, One Direction, at Hershey Park.  Talk about euphoria!!!  I think she floated back to the van after the concert.  Frank and I celebrated 21 years of marriage on July 25th.  What a wonderful man he is, not just because he “let me” bring my nieces into our home but because he loved them so much.  July also saw Emma at her first high school band camp.  The anxiety driven melt-down she had the morning of the first day was one of dynamic proportions.  Eventually, we were able to calm her down and get her dropped off.  Derek was an instructor at band camp, so both of our children were there at the same time.

August, September, and October were filled with Marching Band, trumpet lessons, and getting Emma aclimated to high school.  We made it out to Morgantown to watch a WVU football game.  Actually, we went to watch the marching band since Derek is a member of the Pride.  This year, he marched with a trombone instead of a sousaphone.  I guess the weight of the sousa was probably a bit much for his still recovering knee. 

November and December were filled with more band and lots of swim team practice.  Derek came home for Thanksgiving and Christmas break.  

It’s been such a fast-paced year.  I hate that my mom lost a breast to cancer, but I’m amazed and thankful that she recovered with such strength and grace.  I hate that we lost our nieces to their parents, but I wouldn’t trade the time they spent with us for anything.  I hope that they remember their summer of “normal”, even if it’s only slivers of memories that pop-up in their mind every once-in-a-while.  I’ve also realized how little Derek was physically present in our lives, save for the summer and breaks.  I hope he knows that he is always in my thoughts and in my heart (of course, it would help if he called, or texted, or emailed, or SOMETHING).

The Drop Off

You know that the time for your children to leave home will come quickly, although you don't fully realize the speed at which it will come until that day comes.  I know that I spent the four years my son was in high school trying to prepare myself for that day.  In fact, I was probably on mom-overload during his senior year.  I chaperoned every band trip, went to every school event, went to parent-teacher night (probably the ONLY senior mom there). It was almost like he was in Kindergarten again, except without the crayon pictures for me to hang on the refrigerator.

When the day finally came to move him to college, I think we were all just going through the motions, not talking very much, and keeping our feelings in check.  Well, not our daughter, Emma. Emma wears her emotions on her sleeve for all of the world to see.  If there is too much going on in her head or in her current environment, she ends up having a “melt-down”.  Although it had probably been over two years since we had seen Emma have a full-on melt-down (thank you Strattera), she made sure that Derek had a farewell melt-down that morning, just for old time's sake. 

What provoked this melt-down seemed simple at the time.  Emma has a pair of very short shorts (read: too short, hoochie momma short, what-kind-of-mother-are-you-to-let-your-daughter-wear-shorts-that-short short).  Yes, it was my fault she even owned them.  She caught me at the end of a shopping trip; “Please mom??  So-and-so has this pair? I’ll only wear them to swim practice, I promise”.  I hate shopping and, because I just wanted to get out of the store, I said yes to that horrible $12.00 pair of shorty-shorts. Needless to say, Emma had decided to put those shorts on for the trip out to WVU.  I’m sure in her mind they were the perfect attire for going to a college where she might see some really cute college guys; however, I did not feel the same way.  I simply asked Emma to change her shorts and, after a heated exchange of “Why not?”, “Because they are inappropriate”, “But they’re comfortable”, “I’m not arguing, change your shorts”, she slipped into an uncontrollable, full-on, screaming, crying melt-down.  

I hate to admit this, I really do, but I was dealing with my own emotions.  I tried to talk to her for a few minutes, but to no avail.  The crying continued, so I did what was right for that moment and walked away, leaving her to her room.  Fortunately, Frank went up and calmly talked to her for a few minutes.  I was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps when she was finally able to collect herself together.  She flew down the stairs and into my open arms.  I held her as tightly as I could and asked her if she knew why she was doing this.  She took a deep breath, and while sobbing heavily managed to cry out “I DON’T WANT DEREK TO GOOOOOO”.  Well that was enough to push me over the edge.  All I could do was to hold her even tighter and stroke her hair.  I knew that my voice would betray me if I tried to say anything to her at that moment.  The heaving sobs gave way to deep breaths and she was finally able to go back upstairs and change into something more appropriate for the trip.

The drive out to WVU was uneventful.  We arrived at the Creative Arts Center (CAC) early, so we went out for lunch.  I dropped Frank and Emma off at Panera to pick up lunch for the three of us and I drove Derek over to Wendy’s.  The drive-through line was long, so Derek and I went inside.  While standing there, two young men ahead of us kept looking at Derek.  One of them finally turned to Derek and asked “Hey man, are you with The Pride?”  Derek stood just a little taller when he calmly answered “Yeah”.

 

That was a pivotal moment for me.  My son, my child, my little bear, was officially a member of The Pride of West Virginia Mountaineer Marching Band.  This is where he belongs. This is going to be his home for the next four years.  This is where my “little man” is going to grow into an amazing “man”, a real grown-up if you will.  He will always be my child, but he will never be my little man again.  It was a very bittersweet yet poignant realization for me.

I’ll skip the details of the registration back at the CAC however I will say that at the end of the marching band meeting everyone stood up and sang the WVU alma matter.  No, I am not a WVU alumni however hearing the song and seeing all of the band members, standing arm-in-arm and singing together made me catch my breath and brought a lump to my throat.  (I was thinking: Stand-down tears, I’ll have no part of you yet).  This was something I missed out on in my life, something my children will not miss out on in theirs.  

When the marching band orientation meeting was finally over, we only had 2 hours to move Derek into his room.  Egads, TWO HOURS?!?!?!?  It only took a few trips of Derek, Frank, Emma, and me taking boxes from the van to his room.  Emma was being very helpful, setting up his new fan, getting his new printer out of the box.  I was putting all of the little things away, Frank was hanging items up in Derek’s closet, and Derek was placing his clothes into his dresser.  As we were putting his lamp together, we quickly realized that his light bulbs had been left behind.  No problem!  Emma and I set out to Kroger’s to get light bulbs and cash for dinner. This was actually a good thing because I found that Kroger’s is less than a five minute walk from Derek’s dorm.  

The unpacking was more difficult than I had imagined and I am so thankful that his roommate was not moving in for another week.  This may sound silly to some of you, but as a mother I wanted to make sure that his new living space was completely ready and unpacked so that when he got home from band camp that night he wouldn’t have to worry about anything except crawling into bed.  We left with his room not quite completely unpacked, but it was sufficient enough.  We left his dorm and headed over to band camp, which is held next to the Coliseum.  

This was the hard part.  This is when I cried.  In fact, I’m tearing up again just thinking about it.  We all gave him a big hug good-bye.  My hug included a few tears which solicited a “You’re crying already??” from Derek.  I held his face in my hands, looking at him, studying the details, eking out “I love you so much and I am so proud of you”.  We watched as he walked over to the practice field to find the tuba section, which will be his new family.  We stayed for a while, watching the band get into position.  Frank was not pushing us to leave, which is when I realized that he had his game face on.  He was not ready to leave Derek at college.  I had to be the one to push us to leave.   

The three of us stopped and ate in Morgantown before heading home.  I felt my throat getting full and my eyes getting teary a couple of times during dinner, but I didn’t actually cry.  I had fully expected that I would cry the entire trip home but I did not.  In fact, I drove us home.  It was quiet for the most part.  Random little memories of Derek growing up kept surfacing; almost like I was playing a movie of his life in my mind.  

We finally made it home around 11:00 that night, so I sent Emma up to bed but I needed to unwind from the drive (and have a drink) before I could fall asleep.  When I went upstairs for the night, I walked into to Emma's room to give her a quick kiss before heading to my room - but she wasn't there.  Usually, if she is not in her bed, chances are I can find her in my bed.  Not this time, and she wasn't in the bathroom either.  I opened Derek's bedroom door and there she was, fast asleep in her big brother's bed.  Frank and I left her there for the night. 

I know Derek is a good person.  I know Derek is a strong person.  I know Derek is an intelligent person.  Although I wish I could be there to watch over him, I know he will be successful in his journey.   

Here are your wings, son.  I know they will carry you far in life.  Please make sure, though, that they always remember to bring you back home to me once in a while.