Posts Tagged ‘father’

This is a bit of a rant, a bit of praise and a bit of frustration.  You see I have four children.  One, is living with his mother, he’s my step-child and I do only what a step-mother does – I love him and offer assistance when requested.  The other three are my responsibility.  One of which is 19 and in college and working.  Her father is taking care of that end – paying for college.  She doesn’t live with me.  So that narrows it to 2 I’m directly responsible for education wise.

My children – up until this year – have been enrolled in the normal public school system.  James is a senior (leaving to serve our great country as a Marine in June 2009), and the other is Stephen a junior in high school.  That’s 11th and 12th grade students in a public NORMAL California high school.  That is the number one issue – public school.

Now I hear many say the school systems are great.  Normally those are the parents of kids that are in elementary school.  By the time they hit junior high, I don’t seem to hear that much more.  Because, they (our California public schools) are not great.  Not in my opinion – and not the schools I’ve personally had any connection to.  They are overcrowded, understaffed, under budgeted… just plain under everything.

Let me make one thing clear – teachers as a whole are NOT in my category of issues.  These folks work for our children with what seems like all odds against them.  I would not begin to put them down.

James, my 12th grader – has exited out of normal high school this year and is in what is called an “Independent High School” program.  This means he meets with a teacher once a week and gets work handed to him and he has one week to complete it.  Or not.  This is an independent program.  If you don’t do the work, you are out.  Period.  So James, who didn’t do a BIT of work in the past two years, now is fully in charge of himself to learn what is needed and turn in his work.  Here starts one issue.  If he didn’t do the work before, how would he now?

I didn’t get involved in the kids schooling much.  I know, say what you must – but I didn’t.  Single mom, three kids – I was lucky to be home on time to pick them up from daycare let alone oversee hours of homework.  I would pick them up, get home and continue to work from home.  So not much guidance if any from me.

Now, James has to makeup a years worth of work – plus his senior work.  Again, this is a child that didn’t do anything in school to begin with!  Now, he’s having to double his work.  Hmmmm.

As of two weeks ago I was starting to get calls from his teacher – “James is doing poorly, he’s behind… etc. etc. etc.”.  Funny, his report card just came in with a B+ average.  So what happened?  He went back to how he normally does stuff.  He just doesn’t do it.

Well, I finally took charge.  Why now you ask?  After years of not doing a thing?  Because it’s all he’s got.  If he doesn’t graduate his military entry will be postponed.  Then, as usual – he’d fall down on himself and feel poorly and get himself even further behind.  I know my son.

Today, he met with his teacher for the normal one hour and turned in his work.  He’s got a TON left to do before next Friday’s meeting as I’m getting him caught back up and back on track.

Basically, he’s home schooled.  Not entirely, but that’s what it boils down to.  The plus side is… he’s home schooled.  No more gangs, no more girls, no more teachers screaming (yes, it’s happened).  But he’s got a long way to go this week to get back on track.

Now, enter my other child – Stephen.  He is bi-polar, rages at times, and is generally a to-himself kinda kid.  According to his doctors the last two hospitalizations were due to stress at school (bullies, deadlines etc.) and they have recommended he get out of the normal public schools as there is really no adults there to manage bullies – which is his biggest issue.  Great.  So Stephen is going to the same Independent program now as Jim.

That’s two at home doing schooling.

I work.

We can do this.

Who do I blame?  No one.  To have the kids out of the public regular high school is a huge plus to me.  The amount of drama, fights and lack of guidance only lays way to issues.  Many issues as our family has had to go through since junior high school.

The issue I see with my younger one is – if it was up to him, he’d stay away from any social type situations forever.  He’s not a people person.  Well, he’s not a mean people person and at their ages there are a lot of those.

I don’t know folks… James will be okay now that I have a handle on things, but Stephen?  How do I assist a depressed bi-polar child by keeping him at home?  I think I’m going to go onto the home schooling sites and see what kind of things we can do to get him out of the house.  I can’t believe his doctors think this will be beneficial to him in the long run.  Honestly.

High school is different now.  Much different.

I praise anyone who home schools – at least I know and understand why they don’t want them in the public school system.  It’s a genuine failure in so many ways.  I feel like somewhere with all of the “universal healthcare” and “my company is flopping bail us out” crud – we seem to have completely forgotten the children.  Our future is the kids and they are going to colleges in spite of what they’ve learned in high school – not because of it in many cases.

If you know of any good sites for home schooling, please leave them in the comments.  Stephen could certainly use it!

Thanks for listening/reading to my vent.

Love and Light,

A Momma

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Harold Ford 2/19/1938 - 10/27/2007

I didn’t know what else to call this post, but I do have to say I don’t feel like we are completely without him you know?  I always seem to catch a fragrance (smoke), hear a laugh, or something to remind us of him – he’s still very much around.

That’s my belief, take it or leave it – but it’s really a knowing.  Harold loves us mucho.  The old “coot” said he’d haunt us, so why not? 

Harold died of cancer on this day in 2007.  So many of us where effected in so many ways, too many to imagine.

My husband – oh to lose your father, I cannot begin to imagine.

My kids, who only where around him for a few years – were very effected and it broke my heart watching them grieve.

His grandchildren – what can you say to that grief?

Friends, Family – all of us where touched in so many different ways by him.

He’s wasn’t some sweet little old guy though.  Nope.  Well, not on the outside… he was a burly kinda rough Navy kinda guy.  He’s tell you to “kiss off” quite quickly and the next breath laugh his butt off if you tripped and fell.  You just had to shake your head and laugh at him.  He always lived life being truthful to who he was and not worrying what others thought.

I miss you Harold, and as of today… one year after you ditched your 3 dimensional body for a beautiful light spirity one – I have not smoked for over 10 days.  Ha!

I miss you miss you miss you.

So does your son, in such a huge way……

Love and Light,

Your “Honorary Daughter”

For You Harold – A Soft Goodbye

I’m 40, and I don’t feel old.  Old would be 90 perhaps.  Not 40.

I smoke, have for a long time.  Disgusting, I know.  But I smoke.

On Friday, a first happened for me.  I was called “The Mean Ugly Old White Lady” by 3 children and their father.

Here’s how that went.

I was standing in a handicap parking lot space outside of the hotel (the Friday night fun night!) instructing my hubby on where the night of mystery was gonna be and what to do when he got there.  (It was a blow your socks off night!  Well planned out, I might add).

I was standing in the parking space because I was outside of the hotel having a cigarrette chatting on the phone.  If I smoke, I do it more than 20 feet from the door, in California there are laws on where to smoke.  I understand and abide by them happily.

After my phone call I looked up and noticed a Mercedes Benz with it’s blinkers on clearly waiting for me to move out of the space their were trying to pull into!

Ooops!

I hurry out of the way and made sure I was quite a bit away from the car.

Out popped three little kids with their hands over their faces.  I didn’t notice as I was yelling at the dad “Goodness, I’m sorry.  I completely zoned!”.  Smiling my usual smile and waving at him in apology.

Things happened a bit quick from there.

He said:  Yeah, well we are more concerned about your smoking.

Me: My what? (not sure if I heard him right, I’m quite a bit aways from them)

He said:  Hurry kids, get away from her and run to the door!  (not kidding here, he sounded like I had a gun)

Me:  Um…. (remember, I’m pretty far from them and they are entering a hotel with smoking rooms ~ so they aren’t getting to safety runnin’ inside of there!)

He said:  Cover your face kids!

Me:  Okaaaaay (I backed up even further, although the smoke was going the opposite direction of them – all I could do is watch while the kids covered their faces, but stuck their tongues out at me yelling “gross” “she’s gross” “daddy hurry up!”)

He said:  Yeah well (turning to me) they teach them this in school (almost, although not quite, apologetically)

He brought the kids inside after they gave me dirty looks and he just laughed and encouraged them to look at the gross smoking lady.

I was dumbfounded.

Not at the fear of smoke, although – that’s a bit over the top.  But I get that, if they don’t like it now maybe they won’t pick up the filthy habit.

But at the fact a parent did not reprimand their child for treating a human, a perfect stranger, like dirt.  I’ve seen it happen around me and it disgusts me.  But to really pay attention to the little ones that night, it hurt my heart that beautiful souls are being taught at such a young age that being mean to someone is okay and simply part of your day.  That left me in disbelief at the door. It’s only the beginning for these little ones I’m afraid.

As I walked upstairs thanking myself for raising children that don’t see race, physical limitations, or anything out of their norm as something they use against people – I heard the family through the door and stopped for a moment just outside.

The kids were telling their mum I suppose of the event.  But what I heard was this:

The dad was agreeing “yup!” after everything each of the kids were saying.  The mum was saying “I should go down there and kick her butt (different word used).”

The children were telling a tale of a “Mean.  Ugly Old White Lady downstairs smoking at the door and not letting them in.  She was blowing smoke at these poor little kids.  This Mean Ugly Old White Lady was giving them dirty looks and threatening them.”

Oh.  My.  Gosh.

She promptly said she was calling the manager and complaining about the Mean Ugly Old White Lady and the kids were happy and yelling “yeah!”.

The father never corrected their story.  He laughed and described how ugly I was.  I’m not joking.

I’m left with being the Mean Ugly Old White Lady at the Holiday Inn Express.

My Papa
Happily updated by: monicaford.

This is my daddy. Taken in 2002. Going through old pics for a moment… just thought I’d show you Papa.

He lives in Texas right now and I miss him mucho.

He was the one that taught me to give to others. No matter what.

I love you Papa, and miss you…

Mon

"Lost Love is Still Love. It takes a different form, that’s all. You can’t see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor.

But when those senses weaken, another heightens.

Memory.

Memory becomes your partner. You nuture it. You hold it. You dance with it." - Mitch Alborn, The Five People You Meet In Heaven

Many of us have lost someone very near and dear to our hearts. I get to write about one of mine today and the closure that happened that left me shaking, out of breath and emotionally drained.

His name was wasn’t Brent but that’s the one I’ll use. He and I had dated for a few years in my high school days. He was a child of a wealthy happy family, he seemed to have everything. Everything means in this case, things. Physical things. None of us knew he was missing something very important.

The day was beautiful but he had the flu and was home feeling ill when I showed up at his door to spend my lunch hour with him. We were in his room watching my soaps. We talked about going out that night and that when I got off of work he’d be ready to go. To be honest, I thought he was too sick to go out and enjoy himself. I left that up to him.

My lunch hour was almost over and I had to leave to get back to my job at a Freightliner dealership as their receptionist and parts cashier. I gave him a kiss and hustled into my 1980 Ford Pinto ready to burn the pavement to get to work in time.

To my surprise there were two boys at his door ready to knock as I was coming out. They didn’t know him, in fact their were friends of my prior boyfriend. I asked them why they were here, they said they needed a ride. None of that made sense to me, I told them Brent was ill and he certainly wasn’t going to take them anywhere. I let them know they could get a ride from me if they hurried. They hopped in my little car and as I drove off, they told me to let them out, not even a block later. None of that made sense either. But I did, and shrugged it off as some drug that may have made them a little loopie. That’s what that group was known for.

I was speeding by this time, and was pulled over by a motorcycle cop who was angrier than heck by the time he caught me. The speeding ticket would later be my greatest asset for the day as it was time stamped and proved my whereabouts.

I got to work, started answering the 14 line telephone and began to feel a sinking feeling in my stomache. Think what you will, but that’s the truth.

I called Brent and talked to him for a bit, then he said he was not feeling good and had to get off the phone and would call me right back. He didn’t. Instead, that sinking feeling continued until I was in a shear panic. I called his family begging them to drop everything and get to the house. I couldn’t explain, I couldn’t make them listen and I began to make preparations to leave.

Finally someone at the house answered. It was his mother. All I remember of that telephone call was her shrieking voice in the way only a mother could sound in the situation she came home to: "You killed him! You killed my baby boy!".

I suppose it was at that moment I lost whatever bit of reality I had gained in my young life. I slipped into some sort of a different state of being. That took years to get out of.

I raced out of my workplace much against my bosses pleading – "You aren’t okay to drive. I’ll drive you. Stay here." I don’t remember what happened until the next step as I pulled up to his parents house. I had ran from my workplace leaving concerned adults in my path.

I was kept for a good hour by the police who I can tell you didn’t believe anything I had to say until the two important parts – I had gotten a speeding ticket 1/2 hour prior to his death. That along with being at work saved me from who knows what.

I found out that Brent hung himself in the garage. In a way that the police stated he couldn’t have done by himself. I’ll never understand or know what they meant by that.

In the days after I don’t remember much of anything except three things:

1. I remember the newspaper article stating he killed himself because his girlfriend broke up with him;
2. I do remember the kids and many others drivng by my house yelling "Murderer";
3. I remember many people coming to my door demanding his class ring because the casket was going to be sealed and the family wanted it back to bury with him. My only answer as a child in the situation I suppose would answer was: "He gave it to me. I don’t have to give it back until we break up."

This morning my husband’s cleaning allowed me to find the amythist class ring I put away so no one, not even I could find. I knew it belonged with his family, not with me. As a child I had held on to it for dear life, as if letting it go would let him go. Now, as an adult who has come to terms with the events in my life I know – I do not need anything physical to remember him, I have my memories.

I didn’t know where the send the ring. I picked up the phone and called the old number. The father answered and all I could say was my name and that I had Brent’s class ring and it deserved to be with the family. He cried a horrible sounding gut wrenching cry and yelled to his wife to get on the phone. She did. Her words: "How dare you call here!". They calmed down enough to give me the address to send it to and I assured them I would do so immediately. They hung up on me without another word, only the screaching that I remember from the mother that many years ago that has haunted my dreams up until recently.

To lose a child. I cannot imagine the horrific pain.

I didn’t want to cause more pain, but for the last 15 years I’ve been ready to send this to the family but could NOT have handled the phone call I did today.

The ring is on it’s way to their loving hands. I sent it today right after I hung up.

It was a final closure I got to have in my life. I don’t know what it is for them, but I know it will be perfect.

I can tell you… I still cannot breathe, I am still shaking… and I am on the verge of tears. But I am healthy, healed and happy. That has been a lifetime coming.

I remember you dear "Brent". May you play with all the other spirits in the place you now call home.

My Great Grandparents
Happily updated by: monicaford.

This photo is of my Grandmother’s mother and father. I’d say maybe the late 1800s? My grandma is 93 or so.

I love seeing these two. It’s mesmerizing to me.