There is no light at the end of the tunnel... And that's okay

If you've read any of my posts since December, you've seen my journey with my mom. If you haven't, go back and read them if you want this post to make any sense. 

I have been in an absolute pit of hopelessness and despair over the predicament my sister and I have been in over my mom's living situation. We're out of money to put her in a facility. If she lives with us, we have to live with our childhood bully and she will wreck our kids the same way she wrecked us. If she lives alone, we'll have to worry all the time about if she's okay. 

Do I have a solution? Nope. Sure don't. 

I've said it over and over again; I love my mom even though she doesn't deserve it, but I love my children more. I can't put them in harms way and that's exactly what I would be doing of she came back here. 

After speaking with my friends last night, I was  able to let go of the guilt. I may be a bad daughter (in some people's eyes), but I'm a loving mother who wants to give her children the best chance at life that I can. If that means I'm a bad daughter, so be it. 

Sawyer (my five year old) had a meltdown of epic proportions the other day. I asked him what was worrying his heart. He told me, "Mom, I don't want you to become a grandma." I answered with, " But being a grandma is a great thing! There's nothing wrong with it." He replied, " But when you turn into a grandma, you turn mean like Nonny, and Nonny scares me."

*cue tears and heartbreak*

That was it for me. She CAN'T come back. My children's hearts are so open and so fresh. I can't have them worrying about safety or have grown up worries like that. 

So, here I sit. Unknowing what will happen to mom. To put her in a nursing home for 3 months and 25 days ( the penalty period) it will cost $15,000. Holy cow.

I have felt very magenta lately. That's a Golden Girls reference. Blanche uses it to describe her mish-mash of feelings. I describe it as when you're feeling every emotion possible. None of them make sense, yet, they all make sense. It's not a happy feeling. 

I have discussed my feelings and despair over this situation, but not to the extent that I want to. My mom blamed her mother and her childhood on why she was messed up as an adult. She has never taken responsibility for anything she has done or any way she has acted. It was my sister's and my fault our dads left. It was our fault we had no money. It was our fault she was a hoarder. It was our fault if there was nothing to eat in the house. It was our fault we had no hot water. It was our fault we had no heat. It was our fault we had no kitchen appliances. It was our fault she had depression. It was our fault that we didn't raise ourselves right. It was our fault she had no friends. It was my fault she got fired. 

Obviously, none of those things were our fault. We were children. 

I have carried guilt for those things listed above up until last year. Really, I believed I was responsible for those things. 

I refuse to feel that way. 

I felt if I discussed my childhood openly and honestly and admitted the negative, I would be acting just like her. 

What my friends helped me realize yesterday, was that it was okay to talk about it. I'm going through a healing process, and if I stitch up the wound too quickly and ignore the healing process, I won't heal properly yet again. 

I'm not embarrassed of my childhood anymore. I wasn't the one who did anything wrong. Don't get me wrong. I admit to the stupid things I have done, the poor decisions I have made. I was growing up, learning as I went. No one is perfect. 

What has given me hope and has made me decide it was okay to talk about things without being like my mom, is that even though I had a suck childhood, I learned from mistakes made by both myself and my mom, and grew from them. 

I grew from mistakes- THAT'S the difference between us. I do not dwell. I do not place blame where it isn't deserved. 

It's freeing to hear that despite our background, my sister and I grew into pretty amazing people. 

I was saying last night that I like to find hope and lessons during the hard times. I was having trouble finding one in this.  

BUT, I found one. 

I love who I am. Conceited? Maybe a little. But I'm okay with that. 

A flower has bloomed in the middle of a barren wasteland. 

It may take time, but you can grow something beautiful out of nothing. 

I have a beautiful soul despite it being damaged. 

And That's a little incredible. 

Mother's Day Post: Part Two

This Is my second installment of my Mother's Day posts. The first touched in the women of my past. This one is more light-hearted and fun (y'all are thinking, "Thank God!" I'm sure). This  post is for those ladies who inspire me today. I'm one of those women who grabs beauty and inspiration from anywhere. Luckily, I don't have to look too far. 

My friend Jerian:

I met Jerian as a senior when we worked together at Arby's. We clicked instantly and have been friends ever since. We are very similar, although I'm a homebody and she likes to get out and live life. She has a son and a daughter, so I'm able to get lots of advice from her. She is really one of those supermoms that you hear about. Her kiddos are well behaved, her home is organized and clean, she makes sure everyone has what they need. Without her, her family would simply fall apart. We don't see each other often, and only speak once every couple of months, yet she's one of the first people I call when there's big news. When we do get together or call one another, don't expect to see me for hours. That's my Jerian time! 

I love you, doll! You are one of the most important women i've ever met and you are simply ah-mazing! Love, peck. 

My cousin Amanda:

Growing up, I always thought of her as more of a big sister. We was tight, yo! I admired her and watched everything she did. I wanted to mimic her because she was just that awesome. She is one of the most hilarious people I have ever met. Get some glasses of wine in us and we're on the floor rolling. Nothing is off limits in our conversations and if she has a question, she doesn't sugar coat it. 

Why does she inspire me as an adult? She is rock solid. Her two girls have Cystic Fibrosis. If you don't know what that is, please google it and educate yourself. It's hard on the girls, and it's difficult for parents to watch their kids go through the hospital stays, the breathing treatments, and praying for a cure. 

Amanda has gone through this process with as much grace as one could. She answers strangers questions, she answers the girls questions and worries. She has managed to make the girls understand they can do everything and anything they want to, that they are on the same playing field as everyone else. That's a damn good mom if you ask me!

This woman is a rock! Even when she's down, she manages to stay positive and she exudes happiness everywhere she goes. It's simply incredible. I love you, Mandy-Pandy. 

My friend Crystal:

This is a fairly new friendship, yet it feels like we've been friends for lifetimes. The similarities between us are almost creepy, Just ask our husbands. Since we're so similar, I feel like I can tell her anything and she can instantly relate. She's a working mom, yet manages to keep a home like a stay-at-home mom would. Don't ask me how she does it. Must be magic or something. Haha! I'm excited to see where this friendship leads. I have a feeling it's going to take us to some interesting places. 

My cousin Sarah:

My family must have been decided to come to fruition by God when he was having a really good day because we're pretty rad. As a child, I went to visit my northern relatives for a week. I had never been that far from home and I was scared. I spent the night with Sarah and her family for one of those nights. She was so welcoming and excited that I was there. She took care of me and that was the only night I wasn't scared on that trip. She has grown into a nurturing, kind woman, with a strong streak of sass. Anytime I'm going through something hard, she is the first to remind me to pray. One time in particular, she told me to put on some red lipstick and charge ahead. Those weren't her exact words, but that's how I took it and that's exactly what I do. It's almost like Violet and her ribbon from The  Series of Unfortunate  Events. I slap the lipstick on and feel like I can take the world on. She is the kind of mom who takes charge and fights for what's right for her kids. It's the ultimate mother's love. I love you, Sarah. Remember your lipstick, girl. 

My sister-in-law, Rachel: 

She's a crunchy mama. She's one of those women I call just to vent and can get calm advice from. I don't think I've ever heard her yell... Ever... And I've seen her mad. I have tried to mimic her gentleness, but I quickly learned that's just not me. However, I have learned from her that the right words make a difference regardless of volume. She was the one who introduced me to the holistic world of medicines, food, and cleaning products.  Obviously, I took that and ran with it. I just love this woman! She's so good at picking apart problems until you get to the core of what's really wrong. She prays for us without us even asking. As a child, she had to take on the parenting role as the oldest of 7 children. So, Rachel, I thank you for what you have done for me, but I mostly thank you for looking out for and raising Josh. That's a tall order for a young girl. I would hate to think of what would have happened if you hadn't been there for them. I love you. 

My friend Wendy:

True story, I have never met Wendy in person! Do you guys remember my blog about Christians turning me from God? In the end I said what turned me towards God were women who lived the life and walked the walk instead of just throwing scripture at you and bolting. Wendy is one of those women. She has actually coined the phrase "Jesus-juking" for those scripture throwers. She is my sis Rachel's best friend. I added her on Facebook because I saw her comments on Rachel's page and just thought she was hilarious! Wendy homeschools her 6 children, manages the home, manages finances, cleans, shops, gardens, blogs, all while keeping her sanity. She has inspired me to get fit and eat right. I'm almost convinced she has a secret time stopping watch, because I have no idea how she manages to squeeze in everything that she can accomplish in one day. Truly an inspiring woman!

My sis-in-law Belle:

Yet another one of those time stopping watch owners! Belle came into my life when I was pregnant with Sawyer. Over the years, we have become so close that I consider her one of those in my inner circle of people in my life. She is one of those moms who balances perfectly on that fine line of letting her daughter find who she really is while protecting her at the same time. She thinks outside of the box on so many subjects, and is open minded enough that we can talk about those touchy subjects without me feeling like I have to hold anything back. 

She doesn't just have a green thumb, her whole body is green. She can grow anything and she has an amazing blog called Belle of Dirt where she talks about her plants and projects among other things. I just can't describe how rad she is and how much I love her. I just can't. I'm so lucky to have her in my life. 

Of course there are other women who influence me everyday. There are simply too many to mention all of them. 

Happy Mother's Day, ladies! 

Homemade Butter Tutorial

I had always thought that it was going to take shaking a mason jar of cream for thirty minutes or Little House on the Prairie garb with a butter churn to make my own butter, but I was oh so wrong.

I was scrolling through one of my favorite blogs (The Virtuous Wife) and she had a brilliant way to make butter and buttermilk!

The cost of the heavy cream was the same amount as the store bought butter, so I thought I really didn't have a good reason to actually make my own butter, but you also get buttermilk out of it.

It's kind of a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'm things. 

You get to have fun making butter AND you get buttermilk for biscuits or making your own ranch dressing. 

All you need is:

Heavy cream (it doesn't matter how much)

Cheesecloth or kitchen towel

Mixer with a whisk

                                

Pour your cream into your mixer and start it our on a slower setting

I put a towel over mine because cream WILL fly everywhere

It will start to thicken some, turn up your speed

You'll start to get a whipped cream consistency

It will become even more whipped-creamy

Don't stress, it's supposed to look this way!

You'll see that the butter and buttermilk will start separating. You can add salt at this point if you're making salted.

I know it's getting close because the buttermilk will start flying everywhere. Keep going.

Your butter is finished when most of it clumps together in your whisk. See the buttermilk in the bottom?

I like to slide my cloth under the whisk and over the bowl. Hold your cloth while you get the butter out of the whisk.

Once you've gathered your butter squeeze it over your bowl of buttermilk. Yes, it's messy. Then repeat with what butter is left in your buttermilk.

Butter!

The thing with homemade butter is that you don't have those nifty measurements that are on store-bought wrappers. I actually take a tablespoon and measure, then place in an ice tray. That way I know each cubicle has 1 tbsp of butter.  All it takes is 10 minutes! Sa-weet!

 

 

   

    

 

 

 

 

 

Blogging is my Therapy

Okay, okay, I know we all like to read happy blogs about fashion, DIY-ing, recipes and such. Sometimes I share blogs like that and I don't mean to write depressing blogs. Really, I don't. However, this blog is mine and it's meant to record the ups and downs, good days and bad. Unfortunately, my blogs about my good days seem shallow and I don't feel inspired to write when I'm having a good day. I do have some recipes and happy-day blogs sitting in my draft folder waiting to be finished. Those are coming soon. But today is a day I need my therapist (my blog). 

I've mentioned before that my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in January. She lived with us for awhile and then she went to live in an assisted living facility. Long story short, Medicaid screwed up and she had to come live with is again on Sunday. I had high hopes this time around because she seemed to be doing better. I was wrong. 

We had trouble from day one and my sister and brother-in-law had to come over every day to help me calm her down. Yesterday, we hit a climax. 

For no reason, she decided to try to walk to the police station to report that we were "abusing her". There was no abuse, obviously, so Josh and I had to try to wrangle her back into the house. She was trying to walk into traffic. We called Miranda and Daniel to come and help us. When they got here, they were trying to get her back in the house. She threw water on Daniel, kicked Josh, and Miranda had to literally drag her in the house. Mom was screaming obscenities  and pushing while Miranda called the ambulance to come and get her. My kids were home and fortunately were in my bedroom watching Mickey Mouse. They saw none of this. When the paramedics got here, she was yelling at them and telling them horrible untruths about Miranda an me, stuff that never happened that could have gotten us in serious trouble. 

We got to the hospital and apparently she told the hospital she didn't feel safe at home and that we pushed her and twisted her arm. We had to speak to a kind officer (who was a childhood friend's husband) and wait at the hospital for hours. Finally, a social worker came out to speak with us and she is a God-send. We told her what happened at home and with the Medicaid. She was livid about the Medicaid and she said mom was a danger to herself and definitely a danger to us (she had threatened my life everyday she lived with us) so she was a prime candidate to be admitted into our  hospital's   geriatric psych ward. She'll be there for a long time while they try to stabilize her meds. 

We aren't going to see her (by recommendation of the social worker) because we agitate her. I don't know what will happen after all of this is over. 

So here's where the therapy part comes in. 

My feelings are so all over the place. My mom had damaged me in many ways over the years. There are many things that have come to light recently, so the wounds that I thought were healed have been opened again. I have seen where she went wrong and I have repaired faults in my heart. I've learned from her mistakes. I don't dwell on the past much anymore because I CAN'T change it. However, when the past is being screamed in your face everyday, it's hard to move past it. 

Everything is so raw. 

I had written mom off as my mother last night. She was just another person. I can't look at her as my mom and take care of her at the same time. There's too much hurt to do that. 

She said she never loved us, she was through with us, we never helped her, ever. 

The thing is, you all would assume this was  the Alzheimer's talking. Nope. Those are things that she said almost daily to us growing up. I'm convinced she had us so she could have someone to blame for her struggles; "I'm a single mom and these kids are brats. Look how hard my life is. Feel sorry for me."

What the Alzheimer's has done is taken any part of her that was kind away. Now all that's left is the urge to harm, be it physically or emotionally. 

This morning, I went to clean up her room (stuff had been strewn due to her fit). 

When she was at the assisted living facility, I had written "I love you to the moon an back. Love, me." On her dry erase board. 

It was mostly erased during the move back here. 

I looked at it this morning and I guess yesterday morning, she had filled in the gaps that had gotten erased and signed it "Love, Mom"

Seeing her shaky handwriting and imagining the hopelessness she may have been feeling at that moment broke me open. 

I had thought there was no good left in her last night and that she hated us. That made everything a little easier. 

But now I have this flood of emotion because I'm scared there's still some of her goodness left. Now she's alone in a new place and she may wake up this morning and not even know how she got there. 

I hate these yo-yoing of emotions. This push/pull of what to feel. 

I feel like this last year has taken 10 years off of my life. I am absolutely lost. 

Have any of you had to deal with this? What did you do?

How did you cope?

Please let me know. 

Why are women cryptic? My answer to the age old question

I see men on my Facebook feed posting memes, jokes, and their general frustration about why women are cryptic and give the silent treatment. I admit, I have questioned this myself. I have at least part of the answer (in my opinion) right here spelled out just for you.

1) It's part of our nature.
Yes, this is kind of an excuse. However, I feel like I excuse men for many of their tendencies and I chalk it up to the whole "Women are from Venus and Men are from Mars" theory. There are some things that are just bred into us. That doesn't mean these are things that we don't have to work on. Yes, it's human nature, but there are lots of tendencies that individuals are born with that need work and maintenance.

2) 90% of the time we have already told you what the problem is.
Don't believe me? Ask the lovely lady in your life. I know personally, once I have nailed down exactly what's bugging me, I express it in Layman's terms for my darling hubby. Why would I make it harder for him to understand? Why would I intentionally prolong the fixing process? I wouldn't. That's more work for me and I find it incredibly silly that you men would think we would like to make it a game. Obviously there are exceptions. Some people thrive on games in their relationships, but I would hope to think that's not common.

3) At some point we tire of repeating ourselves. (Silent treatment)
I hate, hate, hate feeling like a nag. Men joke about their nagging wives often. Have you ever stopped to think that we have to nag ourselves to death because our needs were not met, even after expressing them? Hmm? If your wife has entered the silent treatment phase, she's pissed, and you have some work to do. For me, when I'm to this point, I have expressed my needs and concerns, they were not tended to, I have repeated them, an they were still not met. Sooo... What else is there to talk about?
The silent treatment isn't about making you feel guilty or bad. Believe it or not, when she's silent, she's actually considering your feelings. When I'm to this point with hubby, if he asks me what's wrong, I will spew everything out in feeling vomit.
It's not productive and I'm needing time to process so I can kindly tell him (yet again) what's bothering me. No games, just processing it all.

4) Know what? You SHOULD know what's wrong without us telling you. (Being cryptic)
I feel this should only be the case if you have been together for a long time. At this point in my marriage, we have been together for 8 years. I feel that we have had enough talks about annoyances and feelings that he should have a good idea of why I'm irritated. So, yes, I can be cryptic at times because I feel like I shouldn't have to spell it out for him. Likely, I already have told him (see above) and that he should know me well enough to look at what's been going on lately and discern where the problem lies. Am I asking too much? Maybe. But I feel I give him the same courtesy. If he seems stressed and says it's nothing, I (over) analyze what's happened recently, draw my conclusion, give him space to work through his feelings, and then when the problem is spoken about between the two of us, I continuously make the effort to meet his needs. Why is it hard for men to get that? To me, it's just being respectful and kind to your spouse, right? Common sense.

These are my speculations about the crypticness of women. Men, if you actually got through all of this feeling crap, then I have to congratulate you. Here's a reward for you, a nice pair of boobies.

Mother's Day Post Part One: Influential Women From My Past

Mother's Day is coming up on us pretty quickly. I've decided to do a two-part post dedicated to the women of my past and those mothers in my present life who help guide me and inspire me. Today is dedicated to the women of my past.

Most of the women on this list will not suspect a thing. They had no idea that they have shaped me into who I am. They got me through hard times without even knowing it.
So here we go.

Mom:
Of course she's on here. Good or bad, I am who I am because of her. I've already shared my stories about her on here, so I don't feel like I need to go any farther. I do love her, and I know she did the best she thought she could. She'll be coming to live with us again for two years. I'm hoping that now we can have the relationship I had always wanted.

Miranda (my sister):
She was truly my mother growing up. I didn't realize that though until my adult life. I always thought of her as the nagging sister when I was younger. However, now I see that she had a responsibility that I couldn't understand with having to raise me. She's only 7 years older than me, so she was learning as she went. I am forever grateful that she put her life to the side to take care of me. I owe her so much and I love her more than words can say.

My Gran:
Boy, did we butt heads! She was insanely intelligent and could have been successful in many careers, but she chose to stay home to raise her family. She always had a spotless house, cookies made, and could whip up a meal for a large group like it was nothing. I wasn't as impressed with that as I am now. Now I know how seemingly impossible that was! We lost her in '07 and I wish I had her around now. I have so many questions to ask! I still find myself dialing her number when something exciting happens or when I have a cooking question.

My Grandma:
We lost her in'06. As a child, I didn't appreciate her as much as I could have. I also didn't get to see her as much as I should have. However, when I turned into a teenager, I learned my appreciation for her. We would go to flea markets and garage sales. When Josh was deployed, I would go for long drives in the middle of the night and then stop by her house at one or two in the morning. She had cancer and was awake because of the pain. We would sit and pray together, watch tv and she would just hold me while I cried. She always prayed like she was talking to a friend, which taught me that God indeed was a friend who you could reach out to when you couldn't hold it together. I miss her more and more the older I get. I am so grateful that we were able to mend thing before she passed away. Remind me to write a post about the tornado and my grandma. It was insane.

My Aunt Darlene:
I can't say that I ever truly knew her. However, she was one of the women that I watched and quietly learned from. She is a God-Fearing woman who went to church any chance she got. Her home was perfect and she loved to craft. She was a true Southern woman. I remember wanting to be like her when I grew up. She seemed flawless.

Mrs. Harness (my high school oral comm teacher):
I. Just. Love. Her.
She is one of the women who will have no idea what she did for me. She is so creative, positive, and a coffee junkie.
When I was in High School, I was in an incredibly abusive relationship with a boy, physically but mostly mentally. No one knew. No one. Most of you still don't know until now. I put on a ton of weight and my grades dropped. I quit caring about anything. The kids at school would make up rumors and talk about me, but no one bothered to ask what was wrong.
I had two teachers that got me through it. My choir teacher, Mr. Street (you'll hear more about him in my father's day posts) and Mo (Mrs. Harness)
She had no idea, but her positivity was a bright spot in my day. She made me believe that I was worth something. She complimented me and made me feel safe. I could be creative without being told I I was stupid. I felt like I could be anyone I wanted in her class without judgement. She is truly one of the best teachers and people I have ever met. I'm lucky that she has Facebook so we're able to connect now. Thank you, Mo, for saving me.

My Aunt Missy:
She has raised three well-rounded children, has an amazing career, and has loved my uncle for many years. She kind of has it all. But that's not why I love her. She accomplished all of those things while maintaining an unnatural grace and calmness about her. She's hilarious, blunt, and has such a welcoming air about her. She helped Josh and me buy our first home a few years ago. She guided us through everything. That was so nice, because that's a huge step and neither of our parents were involved in the process. I felt at ease because of her. Thank you, Missy, for making me want to strive to have it all, for making me feel wanted and safe as a child. I can never repay you.

My Aunt Beth:
Oh goodness, where to start. As a child, my mom told me constantly that we were white trash and no one liked us because of it. So of course, anytime I went to any gathering on my dad's side, I just assumed no one could love white trash, so no one there would love me. Beth welcomed me into her home and always treated me the same as her kids. She was the person who made me realize that my mom was wrong; That I could be loved no matter what situation I came from. I was equal, not beneath. Beth is another hilarious aunt (especially when you get her and Missy together). She also is very blunt. Her home was immaculate and she has such good taste. To this day, she I one of the classiest women I know. I miss getting to see her as much now. Thank you, Beth, for making me realize that I was more than a stereotype.

My Aunt Stephenie:
I have always wanted to have the marriage that she and my uncle have. It's forgiving, fun, and loving. They both know each other so well and my memories of her always have her with a smile on her face. That's pretty incredible, right? 26 years of memories an only one or two don't include her laughing or smiling. She loves God and her family. She's got so many positive things going on for her, yet she's so incredibly humble. Thank you, Stephenie for teaching me to laugh more than anything and for setting a good example of marriage for Josh and I to follow.

And finally,
Michell (my childhood best friend's mom):
Randi was my partner in crime as a child. Oh, the adventures that we had! Her mama was Michell. She was the mom that I wished I had. Randi had chores, a set dinner time, and rules. Those are things that you would think a child wouldn't want, but I wanted it so much! It was a schedule. Randi always knew what was going to happen next. I never had that. She always dressed Randi in the cutest clothes and would fix her hair. Michell was so kind to me when she could have just written me off as a trouble child. She would invite me to dinner and sleepovers. There was one in particular where one of the girls said something that hurt my feelings and Michelle just sat me in her lap, stroked my hair, and rocked me. I didn't get that at home. Thank you, Michell for making me feel "normal". You'll never know how much those moments where you held me like your own child meant for me.

Alright, now that I'm in tears, I'm going to wrap this post up.

Thank you to all the women who loved me even when I didn't always deserve it, and Happy Mother's Day.