Not Always Strong ~ C.L. Anderson

            Life takes us down some pretty tricky paths before it decides to dump us by the wayside, leaving us wondering what box of Cheerios we gave it permission to piss in. We are at that age when we are starting to lose our parents, illnesses are catching up with our once invincible bodies and our own children are becoming young adults. Take a good look in the mirror and yep, you guessed it; we have become our parents. Those very traits we couldn’t stand growing up have crept into our own fibers of being. I’m sure we all have unknowingly or knowingly adopted some ways of our parents, good or bad. I know I have.

            My father wasn’t around much when my parents divorced, after watching years of fighting between the two; I don’t think I cared too much. I remember wanting to be that daddy’s girl, I wanted to still dance on his feet as he played Sam Cooke and the Impressions on the Hi-Fi (yes kids, we had a Hi-Fi). I wanted to learn to work on cars with him and learn HVAC to work alongside him. I wanted him at my basketball and softball games. I wanted him at my choir concerts. He only lived 10 minutes away for goodness sake! If you were to meet my dad, you would hear stories of him carrying me around on his shoulders, or him having me and a diaper bag wherever he went. What isn’t told is that these things happened before I was 10, after that; the stories stop. I love my father, but he is the biggest chauvinist I know. I learned to work on cars, I even learned a little HVAC and I became a journey level carpenter; without my father. Lesson my father taught me without knowing he taught? Be strong.

            It’s true when they say a girl meets a fellow similar to her own father; and yep I sure did. My son’s father, after a bit of coaxing, was quite attentive when he was younger. As he got older, they bowled together, hung out on Father’s day and generally just hung out period. Then it started to slow down. Father’s teach their sons many things. They teach them how to throw a football, play basketball, how to ride a bike, the facts of life, how to tie a tie, how to fix things. My son learned all those “manly” lessons, but he learned them from me. I was my son’s first coach and he played basketball for me. It was my mom that got him his first set of plastic bowling pins and got the bowling alley to let him in a league at the age of four. He won a 9pin-no tap tournament and was in the paper. Once he started showing promise on the track, both his father and his grandfather (my father) said he ran like them. I guess it didn’t matter that mom was the one that was the jock in the family and mom was the one that was emotionally and monetarily involved. These two men saw a chance to beat their chests. Too bad they didn’t see him really shine. They didn’t see this young man had learned to be strong without either of them around.

            I don’t think my son has seen me weak. Yea I cried like a baby during the whole leaving for college time, but he’s my only kid and I had to give him to the world now. That’s a piece of your heart that you know you have to share one day, but you want to hold on to it just a little longer. With that being said, I've tried to teach him to be strong no matter what. Never let them see you hurt. Believe me that is one thing he has learned a little too well. I wouldn't change anything, but I’m thinking I should have sprinkled in a little “it’s ok to not be strong sometimes”.  Maybe that’s a lesson we’ll learn together, ahhh yes an evolution for the both of us.

            I saw a former classmate put a rather disturbing status on a social network site. She didn't really seem to be in a good place at all and was basically just venting and probably seeking some type of reassurance that something good might happen for her. I read through the comments that were left for her and stopped at the one where she was told by a friend be glad she has her health, she woke up and things will get better. Besides, she was told, there are people that are worse off. Really!!!! If I could have reached through the computer to slap the stupid out of the person that said that, I would have slapped her twice. Firstly, this is a person that has always had to be strong through quite a bit of adversity, sometimes you break. Secondly, telling someone that they will get over it or that there is someone in a worse predicament does not make a person feel better. How do you know someone else is in a worse situation? Think about it. Maybe at that time, my former classmate decided she couldn’t be strong anymore and that heartless off the cuff remark just could have been the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Sometimes being strong is just listening.

            I don’t put all my business on social sites. Why should I? No matter what you put, there’s always going to be that one person that says “Oh that’s nothing, I have….” Then it becomes all about them. Everyone has that friend that wants all the attention focused on them, so no matter what illnesses or issues you have, they will always try to top that. What I will say is I’m not as strong as you may think. I get pissed off when I see people using benefits they don’t deserve when I can’t even get insurance. I get pissed when people utilize systems they really don’t need and brag about it, when I can barely put food on the table.  Like my former classmate, I do break.

            The lessons of being strong went out the window when I finally got the diagnosis of MS. As I write this, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the concept that one day, my son will have to see the woman that used to carry him on her neck and do pushups with him her back, using a walker or in a wheelchair. I hear his seven year old voice standing in line at school telling his friends that his mom is stronger than their dads because she can build condos. At seven, I don’t even think he knew what condos were, but he knew his mom had to work high in the air and build stuff. Bouts of depression overtake me, yet I don’t post it all over the internet. Pain is a daily way of life, but I don’t write about it all the time. I try to hold my head up, although not very high.  Through all the things my father inadvertently taught me, I think I've learned the opposite; I’m not always strong. ~ Just my two cents

Control and Release: They Could Be Friends ~C.L. Anderson

            Those that know me have often heard me talk about control, not control of a person or a group of people; but control over what happens to me in my life. It took a lot to come to terms that sometimes life just happens and things are actually meant to be released. Now, I have the release part down perfect. If I don’t like you, poof! You’ve been released. I may still talk to you, but trust me; you’ve been released…or have you?

            Growing up, my mom controlled everything. Not only did she control everything, she sent my brother and me to a school that commanded absolute control of everything. Mom controlled what we ate, watched on TV, what time we went to bed, what time we got up, what we wore and many other things.  When I first started school, they controlled what we wore. We had to wear skirts or dresses. That changed around third grade to we could wear dress slacks (yep, that’s what they called them then), but no jeans. Then it was we could wear jeans but they couldn’t have the rivets on the pockets. God forbid they scratched up the hardened plastic seats we sat in. School controlled when we ate, when we went to the restroom, when we had recess (remember that?) and when we had P.E. They even controlled when and how often we went to church and Sunday school by taking attendance for it Monday morning. If I recall correctly, at the time, you had to attend one or both a certain amount of times or it reflected in your grade. I’d have to pull my report cards out from the dark ages to check for sure.

            By the time I got to high school, mom still controlled a lot of things. She would take the phone to work with her to keep me off the phone. What was my reaction to this? I had a computer called ADAM at that time and I was able to hook that up to the phone line and still make calls. I kept myself busy at school so I wasn’t home often, long enough to sleep and eat. I believe my release started during this time. Mom was losing control over making me get up Sunday mornings. I simply would sleep at a friend’s house or just exercise what I thought was my freedom of speech. I guess that message got through loud and clear because I no longer had to return to what I considered a dungeon beneath the bowels of hell.

            Mom is gone now and in a somewhat eerie way I feel like I’ve finally come into my own. They say a woman doesn’t become a woman until she loses her mom. I don’t really agree with that, I’ll just say years of struggle and stress had been released; at least I thought it had. Memories play a big role in control and release and for me, memory might as well be a four letter word. Memories can be limited, sometimes I wish mine were. I remember everything and pretty much anything a person says or does. This is where the release part should come into play. Where is that darn release lever!

            I’ve been told I was controlling, that was a while ago. Would you believe it still pisses me off? Firstly, I had to consider the source and that about sums it up right there. Yet, I’m still pissed by it. Why? Well, I look at myself as a person with super high standards for my son and the people I deal with. My son once told me my standards were too high. That’s coming from a member of the 2015 college graduating class. He was in honors classes and maintained good grades throughout school and was a two sport athlete. He was never in trouble with the law, he doesn’t have anyone walking around calling him daddy and he shows much respect. Hmmm, standards I’ve set, that young man has met. It wasn’t easy, but he did it. I had the honor of sending that young man off to school with an academic and athletic scholarship. I had the tears to prove it. People, having and setting standards does not constitute control. I look at it as putting a road map in place and setting attainable goals to paint that road map whatever color you choose. I had to let go of my son and watch him continue his growth without my pushing, but knowing he had the tools to take care of business. I had to release and breathe.

So, here is my idea of control; this is going to wrinkle some feathers for sure. To me, and remember this is my opinion; you know what they say about opinions. When you have no plans for your child to gain more knowledge and allow them to sit under you because they can’t make a move without you, that’s control. I had a friend who told me her and her husband had no plans for their child to go to college because neither of them went. That blew my mind, why would you not want your child to do better! When a person wants to dictate what you do with your time in your own life, that’s control. What makes that control? Try saying “no” to someone like that. That is the quickest way to shut down a control freak, with a word they do not like to hear. This is why they make sure they are surrounded by people who don’t know any better. These are people that I have mentally released, that harkens back to my first paragraph. A mental release is a bit different than completely releasing a person from your very presence.

I think, or at least I’d like to think my mom didn’t mentally break me because I was always so determined to break away. I knew I was more intelligent than what she thought; I was doing her college homework and typing it out when I was in fifth grade. I was determined to make sure my son made it out, mainly because I never had that chance. I gave him what my mom didn’t give me, freedom. He has the freedom to make his own choices, good or bad. I can voice my opinion, but I also tell him he doesn’t have to agree. He’s been taught to stand his ground and question everything. I’m from the time when you didn’t speak up at home or in school. I’m sure you can imagine me staying in trouble somewhere because of my mouth.

My overall point is this; wanting to see someone succeed is not control. Holding them back because you don’t want to be alone is control. You can’t mentally hold someone back then complain about everything that goes on, that creates a mental oxymoron. If me setting high standards and expecting them to be met is control, guilty as charged, but you are wrong. I also hold to the greater knowledge that I have released him to the world without strings attached. You can’t teach your little bird to fly then tell them they can only fly the way YOU tell them. You can’t expect to hold friendships based on the absurd inner thinking that you can control them and what goes on in their households. Sometimes one needs to understand that it takes more control to release. So to those that have called me a control freak, know that you have been released. I may talk to you and make nice, but you are not an issue. I control what goes on in my life and naysayers are a blip on the spectrum.  One final thing to keep in mind…keep a look out for those college graduation pictures. ~Just my two cents.

            

My New Normal ~C.L. Anderson

            After taking some time away from writing, mainly due to health issues, I’m back to give it another go. It’s been an interesting past few months to say the least and of course I get to be the one to call out the absurdness of what I’ve seen posted lately. I also get a chance to welcome you to my new normal. Well, some of you are welcome; the rest can just hop on for the ride.

            This past June, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. I told only a handful of people at the time, those were people I kept in touch with on a regular basis, not what I call “drive by friends”. At that time I wasn’t ready to deal with it, there were so many emotions. The first one was just strangeness because Jack Osborne announced he had MS the day after I was told. Suddenly, the whole world was being made aware of this complex disease. The next emotion was the “this isn’t real, oh wait, that explains everything” emotion. How does that work? Well, my doctor was so nonchalant when he told me so I was nonchalant as well. I figured it couldn’t be that bad if he wasn’t making a big deal of it. Then I started getting things in the mail, a whole new dose of my new reality; humbling to say the least.

            After over 20 years of weird happenings and tons of work being missed, I know what I have. I think I was more relieved to have doctors that actually listened to what I said and not blow me off as being lazy, or having head issues. I have a head issue alright, I remember every single doctor that has told me it was nothing, chronic fatigue, laziness, a virus and any other excuse they used. Memory, now that’s a heck of a head issue to have!  I have to admit, these doctors had me thinking I had a mental problem for a while and it really worked on the self esteem. I have to keep in mind they call it a medical “PRACTICE” for a reason. I was a human guinea pig, not by choice for sure.

            I remember being too tired to take my son trick or treating and forcing myself to go. I remember being too tired to keep the weekly dinner dates he and I had. I pushed through it all. I remember lying in bed for weeks, crying because I couldn’t get up on my own. I didn’t know the frequent arguments my mom instigated put me in bed for days with possible MS related flare ups. Looking back, all the signs were there but nobody put it all together. It’s ok now, sort of. My son didn’t know any different, the only thing he’s known his whole life is that’s it’s me and him against the world and we will win.

            I guess I didn’t really say anything because I didn’t to hear the obligatory “I’m sorry”, “I’ll pray for you” and the other automated responses people give. This is why people are negligent in outing their sickness. Honestly why are people so obsessed with the how’s and why’s of someone else’s life? A person passes away and right away you have a crap load of people wanting to know what happened; why??? You think you can fix them and bring them back? A person announces an illness and right away people are asking if you got a second opinion and telling you their homespun advice. There should be a protocol of what to say or not say, better yet just don’t say.

            Once I was ready to start putting MS out there, I posted pictures on my Facebook page. Now…wait for it…. Would you believe people were asking if something was wrong with me or am I sick!!! Really people???? First of all, there is nothing “wrong” with me. I’m not going to start posting articles about healthy eating for people with MS or anything like that. Knowledge is power and if some of you dare to pick up reading material, you will read that no two people share the same symptoms and those of us that have MS are in a group of highly diversified individuals unique only to ourselves. Once people start finding out you have “something”, people you haven’t been in touch with start writing trying to find out the “scoop”. There’s no scoop to tell so the pretend to care just to get information can take a flying leap. Overall, I thought the pictures said it all, didn’t think I would have to explain the obvious.

            I believe one of the main reasons I’ve waited to put this information out there is because no matter what you say, someone says they have it worse. Only on Facebook can one try to one up someone when it comes to illnesses or a family crisis. Think about it and look through your pages. If someone says they aren’t feeling well, there will undoubtedly be someone else saying “I was sick all last week too, feel better soon” My favorite is when someone always says “I have a friend that had (enter anything here)” Wow, I don’t think I asked about your friend, at least that’s what I would like to say sometimes. I’m not one to blast ALL of my business on Facebook anyway. Do you really care when I went to the bathroom or what I ate for dinner? So, I choose carefully what I post; unless something pisses me off.

            I’ve started cleaning my closet so to speak. I keep in touch with those I actually want to talk with. I’ve walked away from someone that was my best friend for almost 30 years. I’ve changed a lot, but there’s more changes coming. I may slur my words when I talk now and I’m certainly no stranger to kissing a wall or two or hugging the floor. It isn’t my fault they get in my way. I have brief memory farts and sometimes ask the same question a hundred times. My vision gets blurry and returns to normal, I walk funny sometimes. Being on my feet for an extended period of time sends my body into spasm of pain and tingling. Sometimes my left leg is completely numb and I have to drag it along like a sack of some type. My face goes numb quite often and it seems stress brings a nice little flare up to remind me to calm down. There are times when depression seems to be the only thing I wake up to and I have to have meds to sleep at night. I have a cane that I’m too vain to use, but I’ve already decided I will name it Candy. There’s nothing “wrong” with me, the pictures or sayings about MS I post are about me. I’m learning to embrace my new normal. ~Just my two cents

           

            

Those Wonderful Grudges ~ C.L. Anderson

                                                

            Are you one of the many people that can hold on to grudges forever? Do you secretly wish someone would spend over 24 hours bumping their head on the stupid truck? Are you happy when you hear something has happened to someone you held a grudge against?  I can honestly answer yes to my own questions. I am a grade school teacher’s worst nightmare, I remember everything that was ever said or done to me by one of those sadistic bastards. I remember my brother being treated like dirt and his classmates rallying behind him when my mom got a call to show up at the school. I think I push the boundary between a grudge and hatred and take it further than that. Of course that’s not healthy; but sometimes you carry things that have had a traumatic impact in your life and you carry the heavy load of a grudge.

            I remember being told I was the devils’ child and would never amount to anything. I am left handed and everything was backwards for me and the teacher made sure I knew that. I was always told that all good happens to the right, the evil is left, really? What a thing to teach a child, where was that good Christian value love? I remember being tormented by the same person throughout grade school; this teacher was also the principal. I held such a strong grudge against this person that I did a happy dance when I read his death notice. I remember saying to my mom I hope he suffered big time. I also had a teacher that felt it was her calling to slap her students, to this day I say if I ever see her I’m going to slap the mess out of her. Oh oh, there’s that devil creeping up. I held an equal grudge against one of the pastors; he was such an ass and didn’t care. Today, he’s an old man that looks like the Heat Miser, I’m pretty sure he isn’t marveling in his racist ways.

            When I worked construction there was a guy that felt it was his duty to tell me on a daily basis that women don’t belong in construction; especially women of color. My daily routine consisted of cussing this guy out and trying to work around his ignorance. This guy was just an all around jerk and was quite fond of his behaviors. This was someone I swore I would run over in my truck if I saw him on the road riding his motorcycle. Well, after carrying this grudge for a few years, I found out the guy died from a drug overdose. They found him in his bathroom. How dignified. Again, I was happy. He couldn’t be evil to anyone anymore.

            Carrying a grudge is not healthy, I know this but yet I don’t change it. Many believe that you should forgive just don’t forget. If you believe people really do that….I tend to not forgive or forget. People put a lot of effort into being jerks, why should I let them off the hook so easily! I have had friends that have done things or their parents have shown just how they can be racist jerks, do you honestly think I’m going to forgive and forget??? Nope, as a matter of fact I’m enjoying the fact that they are all suffering. I love Karma at its best!

            I like when people think I don’t know what they’ve done. These are the ones that go behind your back thinking you won’t find out; they think they’ve gotten away with something. Well in the beginning they may have, but when you sit there and smile in my face trying to be the nice person; keep in mind I’m sitting there looking at you wishing the roof would fall on your smug ugly face. I’m a firm believer in once a snake always a snake. I do admire the tenacity of ignorance; it exposes the vulnerability that enables someone to exploit the naivety of simple minded people.

            I often wonder if people had the chance to apologize for what they’ve done to others would they do it. In this age of technology it isn’t hard to pen a quick note and just let that person know there was a change in the heart and they want to apologize for what was done. Reality kicks in and realizes a person can sit on your sofa, smile in your face knowing they’ve done wrong and still not apologize. So sending a quick little note is one of those things that won’t happen. People are funny like that. My grandma is one of those people that had a chance to apologize to those she’s traumatized and up until she took her last breath she was defiant, ignorant and crass. She insisted she never did harm to anyone and felt no to need to apologize.

            Holding these crazy grudges does take a toll on your health. Sometimes it’s not so easy to let go and move on, it’s not like we’re robotic and can be re-programmed to do what someone else wants. I used to sit around and think of revenge; that is something that is really heavy. That is something that becomes a disease and will shorten your life span. I’m convinced exacting revenge is not the answer. A lot of people believe you give the other person power when you hold a grudge, I don’t really believe that. I’m pretty sure people don’t go to bed at night wondering who has something personal against them, I know I don’t. I also believe that people that know they’ve done wrong have gonads the size of Mt. Rushmore to sit in your house, smile in your face and  know without a doubt that in your mind you’re just waiting for something to snap. 

            I may hold on to things much longer than most people and I’ll admit I do get a little giddy when I hear something happened to someone I don’t really care for; but there are some things I’ve realized with age… 1) People always say forgive, I say God forgives and I’m not God 2) Even as they smile, their heart is heavy. Sometimes that’s all it takes 3) As long as I have the gift of writing, there is no need to seek out revenge. It’s all written out, kind of like therapy at the other person’s expense 4) Carrying a grudge won’t solve the issue or make a perceived wrong right and finally 5) Walking through life is hard enough on it’s own, I’d like to thank myself and say “self, walk out of the world of the wonderful grudges”. Some of you may want to do the same. ~ Just my two cents.

A Lot in a Little Time~ C.L. Anderson

           I’ve been sitting around thinking about time and how we use it. I thought about things that have happened and the elapsed amount of time. I often wonder why things are fully seen only after they happen, even when you yourself have that instinct that something is amiss. I remember I had a set goal; I gave myself five years to achieve certain milestones. I met those milestones and then something happened. The nice comfy, soft ground became hard as a rock and once the room starting spinning, the rest of the universe spun out of control as well.

            It’s funny when you start to lose control you believe you can regain it easily and quickly. You soldier on with a smile on your face, never letting them see you sweat; but sweating you are. A new reality starts to set in, the reality where you say to yourself “Damn, this is super messed up”. Going back isn’t an option, pushing forward is a chore; all that’s left is time. No one will really understand because they’re too busy talking about their own issues. Those people are the ones that put down other people for the slightest thing, I call them the “anti everything people”. I have a lot of those types on my Facebook page. Thanks to time, one has a chance to sit back and watch people’s true feelings come out in their own words. Look at your page and just watch, I bet you didn’t know how many of your friends really uncaring, prejudiced and biased people are.

            I can look in my way back clock and see where things took a crazy turn; it was in my teens when I was always sick and no one could figure out why. Pushing through the decades of going back and forth to different doctors and having even the closest of friends call me lazy all grinds through the same gears of time. Some people only remember a small piece of a past time, I remember it all. There is no time lapse in my mind, just a steady calendar with a lot of notes. I feel like a chocolate version of Santa keeping a list of who’s naughty and nice, only thing is, no one gets a present.  Oh time, time, time; aren’t you just a little devil!

            As we get older, we actually start to take a little more time for sanity’s sake; well, we try to. Sit back and think about a short period of time and what has happened; is it good or bad or both?  My short period of time is 19 months. In that time I’ve lost my mom, sent my son off to school (twice now), gotten one heck of a piece of news from a doctor that still has me catching my breath and pretty much walked away from a friendship that was toxic to me. I’ve reconnected with a friend that I’ve talked about forever and actually took the time to tell that person I wish they were here when my son was born. We picked up our conversation like it was never interrupted by 20+ years. I’ve learned that sometimes, I may need to ask for help as I slowly become a little less stable. I’ve reconnected with old friends from down south and yep, I still say they’re backwards.

            I’ve also learned to find more irony in just about everything. Those that know me will say only I would be able to do that. I’m sure I’m not the only one that notices people with children that aren’t that attractive are the ones posting the most sayings or pictures about “beautiful” children. I’m just the only one that will say something about it. So here you go, if you really believe your kids are that good looking, why the need to keep saying it like you have to prove to everyone they are??? Oh the irony! My generation is between the generation of parents that sent their kids away when they “messed up” and the generation that glorifies teen pregnancy by creating reality shows; seriously people think about that; now that’s ironic. Once again our dear friend time steps in and takes a bow while slyly smiling.

            We all say we don’t have enough time for things, yet as you see 19 months is a short time for a lot to happen. The same ones complaining about lack of time are usually the ones sitting on the computer either playing games or hanging on Facebook. I’ve been fortunate enough to look back in time, see what I didn’t/don’t like and start to make time work for me. There’s a lot of people that take a lot of time expressing their views about how others live, spend or anything else different from themselves, that’s a lot of wasted time that you will never get back, is it worth it?  In the end time will win because it runs out, before it does, make sure you pack a lot into that little bit that’s given to you.~ Just my two cents

I’m a Mom Not a Politician~ C. L. Anderson

           Several people have written me asking if I was going to have some type of political forum. Why this matters is beyond me, it would still be MY forum. You would just have the opportunity to express your opinions. My guess is that it would be a short lived forum because I have very opinionated followers who love to express their views but not accept someone else’s. It’s amazing how many people have something to say on someone else’s page and when that person who has the page makes a comment back, the individual appears to get offended.

            Here’s how Facebook is supposed to work: Someone has a page and now they have their very own “public” journal. Since your name is the one on the page, you can write pretty much what you want as long as FB doesn’t deem it illegal in the FB realm. Now, this is how FB actually works, using myself as the example. Now this is hypothetical, don’t get your panties in a bunch. I put up a post or write a blog saying I don’t like what President Obama has done. Within 10 minutes I will have my followers divided by race, gender, relationship status and union affiliation blowing up my wall telling me how bad my opinion is. I will be told I support Mitt Romney and the political right wing agenda. Oh, it would be brutal. By the time I got through, there would be a lot of hurt feelings, life’s rough like that sometimes.

            The reality of things is I really don’t care to deal in politics, religious or money discussions. No one ever agrees; unless of course you’re siding with someone no matter how out there you feel their thoughts are. Having such a forum would take the fun out of everyone connecting; sure there are disagreements, but it’s nice to be able to agree to disagree and move on. Being a single mom, coming from a jacked up family and making some really poor choices for friends back in the day gives me more than enough to muse about.  There aren’t many women that can say they’ve worked in corrections and construction and endured the “good ol’ boys” more than one cares to think about.

            If the bigger part of your day is putting up how you personally feel you have every right to know what’s going on behind someone else’s closed doors, then you have that right. The only thing I would say is I hope you feel the same way when someone wants to know what’s going on behind your closed doors. If you feel that everyone should know your God, beautiful, great have it on your wall. Unless I invite that myself, it doesn’t belong on my wall. Admittedly I discuss my own experiences with religion; somehow I always get the ones that say “Oh there’s still a plan for you or some other form of malarkey.” Believe me when I tell you that it takes everything within me to NOT say “your beliefs are so strong and you believe your prayers are heard, why is your ass still poor as hell”. I don’t say it, but the thought is there. You see why I don’t jump in those types of conversations.

            I don’t share the same views as a lot of people and I’m ok with that. I really don’t try to. I try to look at everything tongue and cheek, it’s not that serious. I like to say I dislike everyone equally, that way no one feels left out. I love my friends and followers; I just don’t share a lot of their views. I don’t spend my days worried about who likes me or dislikes me; I remember a classmate doing that in 5^th grade. Guess what??? That classmate is still considered to be a bit out there, all that worrying about….blah blah blah. Get over yourself.

            I’ve walked away from a lot of people; I don’t think it’s ever been because of their opinions, views or what they’ve said. It was probably because I felt the inner core of that person’s very being just didn’t fit in with my life anymore and it was time to move on. Seasons change and so do people. I have fun with what I do; would I have more fun if I jumped on the political bandwagon, heck yea. It’s just not worth the headache.

            For the record, I don’t like either politician. Neither is going to stop looking past their own personal agenda. I don’t care who sleeps where and with whom, not my business and certainly not yours. The only religious views I have are negative, therefore I’ll just tuck that away.  I strongly believe women shouldn’t have a statute of limitations on reporting of rape especially after seeing what’s happening with people getting settlements from the Catholic Church from instances that allegedly go back decades. So in my humble opinion, female rape victims are victimized more than once. I don’t like the fact that people feel they have the right to know what’s going on in their neighbors home, but if there is a case of domestic abuse no one speaks out. I think unions are great, unless you’re a female from the Chicagoland area.  I could go on and on.

            My position in this life is that of mother. It’s not the easiest position; the court of public opinion thinks they have the right to infringe on that as well. I don’t impose my views on anyone else and I would like to keep my platform free of that as well. One can write without jumping into a firestorm. Now, that doesn’t mean I won’t toss my two cents out there, just keep in mind I am the first to know that a lot of people will disagree. I won’t cause a firestorm unless I’m prepared to jump in that fire all the way. Those that know me know I love a good argument, an intelligent argument.  I believe this is why I’m good at being a mom and not a politician. ~ Just my two cents

What You’ve Raised ~ C. L. Anderson

            There’s been a lot of talk lately about older children and how they treat their parents. More specifically, how they treat their mothers. Now, I for sure don’t have the perfect poster child kid. I will say that what I’ve noticed is a pattern. I spent a lot of time thinking I created a heartless, lazy, jerk. Everyone that met my kid always said how sweet he is and threw upon him every positive platitude you can think of; my thoughts???? You don’t live with him. Never had I seen an individual so aloof about what was going on outside of himself. Time was meant to tick for him and things would be done when he felt like it no matter how much I complained. He could be full of compassion one minute and the next minute we’re butting heads about the dumbest of issues.

            I’ll pick that up in a bit. What I’ve been reading and what I was told by friends blows my mind. Their children are actually beating them and doing whatever they want; complete disrespect. There are a couple of thoughts that go through my mind. Firstly, when your son/daughter was little and they started hitting you, instead of playing and laughing it off you should have smacked him/her back. You gave up your control as a parent when you let that happen. Secondly, did you as the parent respect your child or did you just demand they respect you only to realize you didn’t know how to teach them to respect you? Think about that, how many parents do you see in the stores with screaming kids and the parent gets in their face and tries to pacify them only to be smacked by the kid. The parent half heartedly looks around to make sure someone else didn’t just see her get smacked by her child who’s still sitting there throwing a fit. Too bad you can’t find that family 10 years in the future and see how that kid turned out and how the relationship is with the parent.

            I guess with some things I’ve heard I shouldn’t be too surprised. Some of the ones that are having problems were not the kindest of people (that was me attempting to be nice) back in the day. I remember some people cussing at their parents, throwing things at their parents and just being disrespectful. This was all over being told they couldn’t hit the next happening party or have the next happening party themselves. Really?!? I wish I would have tried that in my house, I’d probably still be trying to find what’s left of my teeth today. If you’ve never learned to respect your own parents, how can you teach your kids to respect you? Hmm, there’s a thought. A lot of people claim they understand more of what their parents were trying to do or say only after they have kids of their own. Usually that eureka moment comes when their own child is acting like the jerk they (the parent) used to be themselves. So here’s a new eureka moment for you….your kids reflect you. That’s it in a nutshell, plain and simple. Are you arrogant? If so, your kid probably is as well. Are you indifferent? Your kid probably is as well. Your children turn out how you raise them, complaining about how they treat you should have you standing in a mirror talking to yourself.

            As parents ourselves, we’ve learned from our own parents. I’m not saying our parents have actually taught us the hand held way. We were a latch key generation for sure, a lot of us learned by telephone, ok that was a bit exaggerated. What I mean is we learned what type of parent to be from our parents, good or bad. I learned to be the opposite of my mom. It’s no secret and I’ve written about it before, she and I didn’t get along. I respected her because she was my mom, as a child, we feared her because she was a bully. Everything about me has disappeared, like I never existed. My mom blames my dad and my dad is just clueless. So that’s how it went and that’s how it stayed until my mom passed away. Now, one could assume that my mom was just a jerk and go crazy with all the negatives of her parenting style; you’d be half right. She learned from her mother, and boy her mother was a doosey. My grandmother was the most cold hearted money hungry person I’ve ever met. She had four kids and they were never really all that close. To this day those of us from my mom’s side are not close, we don’t even talk (enter tears here).

            So as I hear and read these stories of these “terrible kids” I had to think of my own kid and how he turned out. This is what I’ve come up with; it makes a lot of sense; especially to those that know me. 1) My son respects those that respect him 2) He’s the biggest procrastinator 3) It’s not that he doesn’t care, it just doesn’t affect him directly 4) He questions and argues everything 5) He moves when he’s ready and not before then 6) He has a tendency to tolerate those that hurt him 7) He can hold a grudge like nobody’s business 8) Even though I think he doesn’t listen to half of what I say, his actions say otherwise.

            Now, that doesn’t look like what I described in the first paragraph, does it? It isn’t, but it took some self reflection to see that. My son turned out to be what I put in him, this is why I say he’s my mini me. There were arguments of course, but him raising his hand to strike me or parting his lips to cuss at me????? Not in this lifetime. He’s learned that we don’t have to agree and that’s ok. He’s learned that he doesn’t have to like what I say and he’s learned to respectfully question what he dislikes. My rule is; you can always argue your point and be heard, but make sure you have a valid point before opening your mouth. How does that work out??? If we were opposing attorneys it would be an interesting courthouse for sure. I see it as I’ve worked out the kinks behind closed doors so he can earn his respect outside those doors; this is what I’ve raised.

            I hate to hear stories of children rising up against their parents. It bothers me even more when the almost grown or grown offspring still lives at home and does this.  My reaction would be to allow them to pack their belongings and take the key back as they walk out the front door. You aren’t helpless now, but what about when you’re older and have to depend on someone to help you. These are things to think about now, we aren’t getting any younger. It’s time to look at the big picture and own the fact that this is what you’ve raised. ~Just my two cents.

(Originally posted on Carlaupshoutout.com July 21,2012)

The Ultimate Journey ~ C.L. Anderson

            We take many journeys in our lifetime. I think the journey from your parents’ household to running your own ranks in the top 10 for sure. We live through differing stages in our lives without ever thinking twice about it. We talk with our friends and hold some of those friends more intimate than others. For me, getting through everyday life was interesting to say the least. I spent most of my time trying to figure out a good painless way to check out because I hated the school I was in, couldn’t stand my parents and my moms’ friends were all losers who lived in an altered worldly sense of reality. Obviously that didn’t work, you’re reading this now.

            My road trip through life has seen some interesting things but more importantly; I’ve been able to see parenthood. The time in your life when you sacrifice every single thing for this little person that looks up at you with big round eyes and calls you mom or dad brings a journey that takes you through more perils and triumphs than you ever thought existed. Were we this emotional, irrational, immature at a young age? I’m sure we were, but we were also more mature; we had to be. Most of us were left to figure things out ourselves due to the fact that our parents worked. We did what we were told (for the most part) and had it done before they got home and that was that. Somehow our turn as parents seems vastly different than our own parents. Our journeys seem so much more outrageous you really start to wonder if the hospital sent you home with the wrong kid. There’s no way something born from me could act that way, think that way, just BE that way. The journey of parenthood, don’t we all just love it?

            The next journey is the one we take with our friendships and acquaintances. You’ve seen me write about friendships and what they really mean and the actual number of people you can call a true friend, did you agree? We meet a lot of people throughout our lives, some we call friends and some are on that drive by tip; we call those acquaintances. A lot of people don’t realize that the people you know actually take you on a different journey on a constant basis, sometimes good, sometimes not so good. Each person that comes into your life seems like a new journey for you to take and learn something. As a mom, I’ve learned a lot from watching the people that have come into and out of my son’s life. Some of his choices of friends I’ve liked, some of his choices of friends had me wanting to meet the parent and slap the stupid out of them for putting such a product on this planet. Have you ever found yourself thinking things are déjà vu when it comes to your kids’ friends? I have all the time. They’ve always seemed to need something and always wanted a ride. I’ve often thought for kids coming from two parent homes, they’re a lot needier than my single parent son. The journey of the teen years ROUND 2. Funny, I didn’t enjoy round two as much as I enjoyed round one.

            I’d like to think I’ve cultivated a close network of friends that I don’t mind sharing things with. You all know I’ll put anything on Facebook, but there are things that I only share with a certain few. I enjoy watching the journeys my friends are taking. I’ve seen religious journeys, food journeys, self evolution journeys and a lot more. The self evolution journeys are the most fun to watch, don’t get me wrong; anytime someone discovers something about themselves it’s a good thing. I just find it funny that it took someone all these years to see what most people saw way back when. I guess as long as you figure it out sometime it’s a good thing. I don’t trust easily and I for sure don’t trust a lot of people; so if you’re one that I’ve been writing to personally that shows you are truly appreciated.

            All of these things are ways to prepare us for some of the toughest things we may have to face in life. This is when you find out if you’ve cultivated the right mix of friends to share your most intimate thoughts, good or bad. Think about this: for some reason, everyone loves to hear bad news…about someone else. Don’t deny it; you all have someone or several someone (s) that you hardly hear from; write something public about something that isn’t good and presto!!!! You have everyone trying to find out what’s going on, and the need to know is what???? All of a sudden they like everything you put up or texting hoping you answer. I call that trolling, the ones that never really say anything; just go on your page to see what’s being said, waiting to see something bad so they can pipe in and ask what, who, how. Those are the ones I like to say “hey, if you were actually paying attention, you wouldn’t have to ask all these questions” or “hey, I haven’t heard from you in how long? Now you want to know what’s going on….ummm no” That’s the equivalent of a person dying and all these people that never kept in touch showing up saying all these nice things.

            So this is where all of this finds me; on another journey. This is a journey that will be long, but ultimately will be my last journey. I’m ok with that because there’s still a hell of a lot of smaller journeys I can take along the way. There’s a small circle of friends that I have allowed to hop on this crazy journey with me, I promise to take you on a crazy ride and keep it funny. This does not mean I want the obligatory “I’m sorry” posts coming in, hell get over yourself! I don’t want the post saying we need to get together, I’ve lived in the burbs my whole life and we haven’t really gotten together so let’s just keep things the way they are. I’m not a prayer warrior by any means, but I have one in my corner, guess I’m lucky like that. To the fantastic seven, sit back and relax; to those that don’t admit to reading everything I write, you sit back and enjoy as well. I’m going to Carla up and take you all on the ultimate journey!~ Just my two cents

Self Redemption Leading To Self Acceptance~ C.L. Anderson

            Redemption: to reclaim, absolve and atone. If we believe what we were taught in our younger years, we will spend our entire lives looking for some type of redemption. We are taught that if we pay a man to wear a very expensive robe he will be able to offer redemption and you will be atoned for your sins. We are told that darn near everything we do, we will have to seek some type of redemption; heck we even get slips of paper that can be redeemed for a percentage off your groceries. So while you are busy seeking some type of absolution from another human being, did it ever occur to just practice self redemption?

            The road to self redemption is a lot longer than the perceived road to perdition. I think I’ve travelled this road many times; yet I’m still feeling close enough to perdition that my toes are burned. It’s easier to stay set on that burning path instead of opening your heart to yourself and allowing your inner self to accept and redeem from within. It takes a lot to realize that no one person can give you what you seek and no one person can say you are forgiven for whatever you’ve done or have thought of doing. Sometimes, these lessons manifest quickly and one can move on through this life with satisfaction. For others, myself included, we need to be smacked around and driven to that fork in the road. You know that fork; the one where the road is shiny on one side and crappy looking and beat up on the other side. As I sit here pondering my own travelled worn out roads, I think I definitely don’t want to reclaim anything.   I don’t recall asking for any type of atonement for any of my actions, now that doesn’t mean I’ve done nothing wrong, this is me we’re talking about.

I remember when my brother first went to Ohio, my mom missed him something fierce. I on the other hand, well let’s just say I didn’t miss him that much. So I had these thoughts floating through my head, do I seek redemption??? I think not. Of course his choice of girlfriends just solidified the thoughts I had. His choices were not great, then again when do any of us make perfect decisions. My brother has been gone seven years come October, all I can say is time flies and will not slow down for anyone. My brother was a momma’s boy, which was made quite clear. I was the smart one and stayed to myself. We were a family of four until my parents divorced. Now half my family is gone, makes you think about a lot.

I always said you can’t choose your family but you do choose your friends. I tell ya, I got the short end of the stick on that one too. I used to hang out with the most ignorant group of people. They bowled with my mom and when I was younger, I thought they were pretty cool. As I became an adult, I wondered why my mom stopped being around these people. Even after the “token black jokes” I didn’t wake up. I think it took one too many parties with my “friends” letting me drive home a little too tipsy that got the message through to my head. This was a group of ladies that were hell bent on being drunk most weekends and the night of bowling. Exit stage left. I’ve had so called friends tell me I’d be a good friend if I would just indulge with the foreign substance they chose to snort up their nostrils. That wouldn’t have worked for me, I hate using nose drops.

            So here’s where self redemption comes to play. I can’t go back and correct a lot of bad choices I’ve made. Why would I want to reclaim any of that anyway? To own it, ha; I lived through it so I already own it. Seems the things that happened in the past need their due place…in the past. Now, as for things that happen from this point forward, just say it’s a work in progress. I look at my contribution to this planet and lately I’ve spent a lot of time wanting to figure out a way to put that contribution back. My contribution will be 19 this weekend and weighing heavily on my heart is how much puberty can change innocence into master jackass status. Just the thought of the dramatic difference brings tightness to my chest. This is the part in my life when I blame myself for the things that go awry, not that I blame myself on purpose; it just happens to get tossed in my lap. When you see this contribution of my mine, you think oh what a great individual, sweetheart, blah blah blah. Reality is, you don’t live with the contribution. Sounds like I’m talking about a disposable commodity huh? Well the truth is, at a certain age your contribution makes you feel like YOU have become disposable. An ignorance rises up so fast and far you would swear the devil himself implanted some type of wire leads in the brain and whenever your contribution chooses to actually let you in their world, hit the switch and your contribution instantaneously becomes your worst nightmare.

            I’m slowly learning to accept things as they are; they may or may not change. I see no need for redemption, absolution or anything else along that matter. From here on out the only thing I plan to redeem is my sanity. The world will go on whether I’m in it or not. Learning to get back to me and letting go of my contribution is hard. I’m still wicked in some ways, for example, to see this contribution fall on his face just once will bring a smile to my face. You can’t be a jerk forever and expect good things to continue to happen. I guess at that young age we were all jerks. Hmmm, guess maturity and mother wit is a type of redemption after all. How about this; full redemption is already within you. You can’t live to please everyone so don’t try. The reality is you don’t need to go someplace else to ask for redemption just to go out and do the same thing again. Reality, if you really want to seek out some type of redemption, go online and get yourself ordained, then you can do all the redeeming you want. Whatever you choose from here on out, remember; redemption begins when you accept yourself. ~Just my two cents

No One Really Wants Complete Honesty- C.L. Anderson

            Do you believe that title is true? Are you one that is always honest? Are you honest with everyone, or do you pick and choose when you want to be honest as to not hurt someone’s feelings? After really thinking about it, I actually fall in the middle. I don’t lie, but sometimes I do choose to keep quiet, I know hard to believe right? We teach our kids to be honest (knowing as they get older things do tend to be a little south of the truth) yet we aren’t completely honest with them. Why is that? Partly because we don’t want to hurt their feelings and as they get older they spend most of their teen years in denial, so why waste your breath.

            Let’s ruffle some feathers here. How many people would you consider true friends? Now think carefully before you answer that. The reality is, we know many people and consider many people to be friends, but if something happened and you needed a friend in an emergency at some ungodly hour who would you call? I know a lot of people that say “if you need something call me”; they really hope you don’t call. Of course there’s the opposite, you have kids that are overly generous with your personal time, money and transportation. Oh yes, you’ve taught them to be kind hearted and generous and they turn that around and you’re the one that ends up being kind and generous on their behalf. You know this is true, think about it; how many times have you provided transportation to your kids’ friends and you really didn’t want to? They have those couple of friends that lack in the hygiene area and they seem to be the ones that always need a ride and your kid is more than willing to say “let me ask my mom”. Sounds like I’ve been down that road more than a few times, huh? Of course you say yes when you really would rather say no and there goes that honesty angel, out the window.

            Let’s throw some complete honesty out there without naming names and watch the feathers ruffle. First off, when you put clothing on a body that is over 300 pounds and your face looks like features were just thrown on to a blob of skin, there is nothing in the world that will make you look good. However, if you utilize some soap and deodorant, you may smell a hell of a lot better. You over there, stop thinking you’re all that and a bag of chips, wake your butt up, that ship sailed a long time ago. You could never catch so stop trying to catch a long lost youth. What are you trying to smile at? Please close your mouth, your teeth are more yellow than butter and look like they were filed down to little nubs. You were willing to let someone else get blamed for you embezzling money? Death isn’t even good enough for your scumbag behind. Really, you think you’re that cute? Ok, if homely equals cuteness now; sometimes people are given gifts they don’t deserve, but of course if a person gets stuck into it, I guess you make sure one way or the other you’re never alone.  You may be talented but talent will only get you so far; check that attitude and stop feeling like the world owes you something. That pyramid scheme you were running and trying to get others to join…yea, how’s that working out for you now? You were phony way back in the day and you’re still phony now.

            These are some of the things I keep to myself, but if I’m asked I will speak the truth. Would you do the same? If I said name your best friend, would you think about it so as to not offend someone else or would you just name the person. When my mom died, I told people that had known my mom for years and some of my friends. Well, one friend didn’t even remember the phone call the next day and another said the familiar “call me..blah blah blah”. Well, at the risk of ruffling feathers, let’s just say meet the middle finger to both of them. A friend that had never met my mom was there, now that’s a friend. That meant a lot. That also happens to be a person that doesn’t bite their tongue either.

            So why is it people don’t want complete honesty? No one really has the answer to that question. I would like to think that sometimes people are afraid to face their own truths so they don’t want someone else pointing them out. That actually sounds logical, but then I’m the one that says “ok, you know this to be true, don’t you think others notice as well”. I am one that likes honesty, even if it pisses me off, I can respect that person more. I love it when a person admits they don’t agree with what I write, that creates an open dialogue and maybe we can both learn from each other’s point of view. What I dislike is the person that publicly tries to blast you for what you say, then remove themselves leaving you no way to respond. That is the cowards’ way out and what little self respect that person had is probably sitting in the bottle they’re drinking from. Think about it; if there were more honesty amongst friends don’t you think the trickle affect would happen? Honesty starts with friends and family, as we get older; we start to realize more and more that this really is a small world.  Take a look at your friends’ list and you will see that somebody knows a few people that you know or someone is friends with people you don’t like. Wow, that six degrees of separation stuff is true.

            It makes sense that I say your friends before puberty are the ones you tend keep in touch with. They are the ones that knew you before you started making up this fake persona you wanted everyone else to see; wait, there was one that was fake then too. They are the ones that knew you before you perfected that less than honest behavior you have. I keep things as real as I can; I have no problems putting it out there if I’m happy or if I really dislike something. I also stand by the saying if you don’t like what I say then kindly remove yourself from my page. Exercise your right to make your leave quietly, I probably won’t notice anyway. I guess I’m as guilty as the next person when it comes to 100% complete honesty, but I guarantee you I’m more honest than even you can handle. ~Just my two cents

            

When Mom Is No Longer There C. L. Anderson

            This weekend we celebrate Mother’s Day. This is the day that phone lines stay busy half the day because everyone wants to call Mom and catch up for a bit. You can almost smell the flowers, can’t you? Moms put up with a lot of …. well, for lack of a better word…. CRAP. On top of the crap, moms deal with a revitalized upheaval of men telling them how much they should make, how long they should get maternity leave and what if any, of their basic rights they should be ALLOWED to have. For those lucky enough to still have their moms with them, for at least that one day, I hope they swallow those words and give their mom ALL the praise she deserves.

            We see the rhetoric against women every day, but do we stop to think there is a mom behind that person delivering such rhetoric? Do we stop to think of what she may be thinking or how she’s feeling? I know my first thought after listening to some of these people is how they can kiss their moms with those mouths; not only their moms, but their wives; the mother of their children (insert perfect family photo op here). To those long suffering, held in the background, BACK BONE of the family I say Happy Mother’s Day to you! These men know, without mom and wife, they wouldn’t be here. Let’s see them bear children, nurse them when they’re sick, show up at all school functions and a plethora of other things. Now, I do realize there are some men that do these things, sit down and shut up, I’ll get to you in June.

            On a serious note, this is the second Mother’s Day without my mom. Now, don’t get all sappy and start saying things like “prayers are with you” or “thinking of you” and whatever other cornball thing that is at the tip of your tongue. My mom and I had one of the rockiest relationships (again no cornball crap) and believe me; she found the most interesting ways to really mess up Mother’s Day. Growing up, Mother’s Day in our house consisted of going to our church and then going to church with my moms’ mom. It wouldn’t have been bad except, I hated sitting there listening to some bonehead lecture about what a wonderful blessing mother’s are and how they should be revered, yet they could have no active role in the church. Then the day would get worse at my grandma’s church, it was a Catholic Mass in Latin. What the hell were those people saying?!!!. All the kids had to go be blessed by the priest and this is where I tended to get in trouble. I refused to go up, not only did I embarrass my grandma; I seriously pissed off my mom in front of her mom. Of course, me being me, I loved every minute of it. I would simply say I refused to go up and have some guy, that was already half way to drunk, touch my forehead and bless me in Latin after praying to a frickin’ statue. Yep, stubborn way back then.

            My brother and I always had to make cards in school; it was interesting to say the least. My brother would always try to make something special to add to the card. He would tell my mom he was going to be an inventor. Of course, there I was standing there telling him what an idiot he was because he spelled inventor wrong. Ahhh family love! On top of making cards at school, mom would take us to the store to pick out cards for our grandmas. My brother would always find some pretty cool cards; me on the other hand, I just stood there staring at the Hallmark section saying I can’t find anything, I can write better sappy stuff than this. Now at that age, I doubt if I could write better sappy stuff, but it was a good case to try to present. My main arguing point (seems I argue about everything, huh?) was that my grandma’s never got me a card or anything so why am I standing here wasting my time looking for cards. Not only did I lose the argument, I think my behind was burning a bit when I went to sit down.

            It’s fun to recall childhood stories you’ve had with your mom. I think as we age we learn to appreciate them just a little more. Some are funny and some are depressing; they are all true and that’s what shapes us as moms to our kids. Sometimes recalling these stories does act as a quasi therapy, oooh free benefits! I often wonder what stories my son tells about me and what stories will he tell his kids. Oh to be a fly on his walls! Scratch that, he’d probably squish me and watch me splatter. I can only hope my son has fond, funny memories of his life growing up. I know I’ve laughed more than one parent should, but I’ve also shed some tears. There are times when I feel I have the most ungrateful, unappreciative son in the world. I’m sure all moms feel that at some point. Through the turbulence of watching some creature become a human being, then morphing into a man, I can happily say I have enjoyed being a Mother. Good, bad, happy or sad; everyday has been Mother’s Day and I’ve been very lucky.

            Keep the stories and the laughter close to your heart. Appreciate what you’ve been taught. No matter how it was taught, trust that there was a lesson for you to learn and grow from. For those that had or have less than stellar relationships with your moms, there’s a lesson there as well. I think for me it was a life time of grooming me to become a better mother, to love being a mother and to appreciate being a mother. I think I was given 42 years to prepare for when mom is longer here and to appreciate that as well. To my son I say, I may not be perfect but ha ha, your scrawny butt is stuck with me! To all the moms out there, have a very Happy Mother’s Day! ~ Just my two cents

First Year Lessons Learned (Things That Smack You in the Head)

              

           

The first year of college is coming to an end. Did I survive? Did my college student survive? Short answer yes and that’s only because we aren’t in the same state, however; realistically it is a tad more complicated than that. We have these grandiose dreams that our kids are going to graduate high school and go off to a big name school. My grandiose dream schools were Notre Dame and Morehouse. My college students’ list included Drake, Eastern Il, Millikin and one other school. Notice my choices didn’t seem to match his. He got accepted to all schools he applied to and then it happened. Several schools started contacting him and making offers, one school gave him an open ended offer and gave him up to a year to decide, in case he changed his mind.  A small school in Iowa came a calling and Mister “I don’t want to go to a small school” answered that call. The letter of intent was signed October of Senior year and this is where my first year lessons started.

The very first wakeup call I got was when the high school coach botched the day of signing and the deadline was almost missed. That was one of many wakeups I’d had with this coach. The transitioning process from high school student athlete to college student athlete started to take shape. Attitudes started to change, extreme laziness kicked in (more so than normal) and everyone seemed to want a piece of this kid. Here I am standing on the sidelines screaming “You did nothing to help get this kid to where he is going, now step aside!” There was a personal battle between this young man and the head coach that no one could seem to figure out. This coach seemed to knock this kid at every turn; any extra team awards were always given to less qualified athletes, of course, after announcing that my student athlete is the one that should get it. Upon graduation, my student athlete was one of the most decorated runners to leave the district. Sure there were a few before him, but those athletes had competed in summer programs since they were small kids, so they included those awards with their bounties.

Summer brought another wakeup call. Just when you thought things were quieted down, the battles to get things done starts. The constant nagging to start packing up a room that wasn’t even slept in was only overshadowed with the constant nagging to start the college application process. Talk about epic word battles for the simplest of things. Of course, tired of listening to myself nag, I started the packing. When it came to that wonderful process of shopping for college, I eliminated the indecisive one. I just shopped and displayed the items when I returned home. I don’t think it was actually looked at until it was unpacked on the campus. Thank goodness for a summer program that provided a job, one of us wouldn’t have survived the summer. I can say with most certainty that 18 is a magical number and not in a good way.

Now, one year removed from high school and one year of college under my belt, these are the lessons I’ve learned.

·         The sweet young person that was brought into this world lost his damn mind when he turned 18. Someone needs to find it and return it

·         The transition period actually lasts the WHOLE first year; although I’m not sure for which one of us more so

·         No matter how many times I tell him to do something, he will either claim he forgot, didn’t have time (“it’s called college life mom”) or it just won’t get done period

·         College life is strange for both the parent and the student; the more you try to let go, the more they want you. The flip side is, the more you try to parent from a distance, the more they shut you out. Notice I didn’t say you win

·         Taking care of EVERYTHING may not be the best idea, gives the student a false sense of security; that and the attitude that if they don’t succeed as well as we think they should, we’ll be there to bail them out

·         Sometimes you have to step back, throw your hands up and watch the chips fall where they may…you may be surprised

Of course, these are my lessons and I’m sure there will be plenty more barreling down the pike kicking me in the butt. These four years will go quickly and the hope is to transform a young unpolished, wet behind the ears demon creature into a well rounded educated man of Clarke University. I’ve quickly learned it doesn’t matter that our timeframes for getting things taken care of is vastly different. It doesn’t matter that I feel he needs time management classes…maybe a few of them. Room dusty, when you know you packed a lot of cleaning wipes??? It’s trivial, let that go. Late nights but homework isn’t really the focus??? Let that go as well. Grades aren’t quite where YOU would like them to be??? Well YOU aren’t the one that is taking the courses, let it go.

While I have thrown up my hands to a lot of things, I have not stopped being the parent. Since I’m still footing the bills, he still needs a parent; just not so hands on or so vocal. When I turn on the news I’m hit with the stark reality that there are far worse things this young man could be doing. The reality of the matter is, he beat society’s statistics. He comes from a single parent home, didn’t drink, do drugs or bring home any babies and he graduated on time. Yep, there are much worse things that could be happening.

I wasn’t sure if either of us would survive this first year, I’m sure later I will look back and have a good laugh about it. I raised a strong minded young man, believe me, I’m reminded of that every single time I talk to him. I firmly believed he would be a great attorney, but since he has integrity, maybe that isn’t a good choice for him. Graduation is always the day before Mother’s Day, I can’t wait! May 2015, as I watch this person that has provided me with enough fodder for a book, enough tears to form a liquid salt mine and enough pride to cover the globe; I will have gained a new perspective of both of us. We share a mutual respect now, yes folks there are teenagers that still show respect, but that day will bring respect for the MAN he will have become. These are my lessons learned after the first year. ~ Just my two cents

Mom’s Manifesto (Time to Let Go) C.L. Anderson

When motherhood beckons, and that call is answered, there are a few milestones that are greatly anticipated. The first day of kindergarten, 8^th grade graduation, driver’s license and high school graduation are some of those milestones. A college graduate is a bonus we hope for, but ultimately we know it’s up to the individual and the choices they make. Some mothers go through post partum and slowly start to enjoy what they have been given; some jump right out of the gate and enjoy it to the fullest. We are all different and we celebrate those differences. Then there are those of us that feel like we popped a pup for a second time later in life and suffer greatly from post partum symptoms, or at least post traumatic stress syndrome. I fall into the latter category. These latest bouts of oh oh’s have come to be known as “I’m off at college and I think I’m grown syndrome”. This is that time when I personally wonder what happened to my part in the circle of life, I didn’t eat my young. Can I get a do over? Moms, welcome to the college years! Stand up, clap your hands, and shout for joy. Ok, sit down now.

Welcome to the Mom’s Manifesto today! I am the voice that says what you are thinking and won’t say because you don’t want your “I think I’m grown now” son/daughter to be mad at you. Try to find your backbone as you read this and then stand the hell up and say something. Let’s break this down slowly…. College tuition rounds out to about $35,000 not including incidentals. Now, for this very large number this is what you get; room, board, use of the library,  multiple computer labs, medical on site, counseling, mail services, dining halls and a café; also, use of a weight room, gym, game room, bookstore and career services. Finally, you get life’s necessities (as if a bed and food weren’t enough), basic cable, wireless internet service, heat and maintenance. What good are these services when the only thing being utilized are not the things to help guide you on your path!!!! Explain how NOT using career services is going to help you find a job or help with your resume, or NOT talking with financial aid for YOUR tuition is going to get you closer to that degree! Notice I didn’t include the cost of insurance or books or items necessary for the room.

Let’s look at what happens if your son/daughter ends up right back under your roof. Remember, the goal is to keep them out and push them to succeed. Coming home should not be one of their options; have you heard “I got this”? Then let them “get it”, a hard lesson to learn for any mom. Anyway, back to them coming home; let them know they will be paying some type of rent, they will clean up after themselves and wash dishes, they will pay their own phone bill and the biggest one of all they will find a job in a timely manner. Stipulate that finding a job does not entitle them to the use of your vehicle; they will utilize the same two feet they used to stand on yours to dance when they were little OR learn how to use public transportation. Also, since they chose to put their tails between their legs and come back to you, make them realize that the freedom of hanging out all night walked out the door when they walked in. Finally, let them know in 6 months time, THEY will be responsible for repaying their own student loans. Remember, they got this!

Suddenly coming back home doesn’t seem a viable option anymore, huh? That’s the point! While we as moms love to embrace and brag of the successes, very few of us talk about what happens when that embrace is not wanted at this time. We don’t talk about what happens when your son/daughter turns on the only support system they’ve had their whole lives; we don’t talk about the hurt that comes with that. Somehow we allow them to take their lack of foresight and turn it into one of our faults. Now, we moms have faults of our own, our sons/daughters failures will not be one of them. While we never turn our backs and our hearts as well as our doors are always open, they should be open with the stipulation that things are not free and you still have to earn what you want. While they feel they can skate through life and do whatever they feel and you don’t need to know, we sit back through our tears and KNOW in the long run, yea; WE (the moms) are the ones that actually got this! We never let it go and we won’t start now. Sometimes we have to let them flounder in the wind and “smell their own ass”. We have to learn to sit back and watch them let their attitudes include or exclude them from the positives in life. We’ve given them the basics, it’s up to them with they do with it. I’m sure they don’t forget what they’ve been taught, I’m POSITIVE they don’t know how to use it once they leave home.

As the great Revs. James Cleveland and Clay Evans once sang “This Too Shall Pass”. Our nerves will be tested over and over, we will shed many tears and yet it will pass. I think once the “I think I’m grown” phase passes and the real maturity kicks in; we can sit back and say “Peace Be Still”. Until this all comes to fruition, sometimes we just have to learn that it may be time to let go. ~Just my two cents.

            

Do We Really Need Validation? C.L. Anderson

            Memories, those hidden treasures tucked away in the bowels of our brain that very readily seem to enjoy defying us at the most inopportune time. Stories of the things that happened when you were younger, a few years ago or even a few days ago can seem fuzzy at best when you’re trying to recall a really great story. Sometimes you’re left thinking if only someone, anyone was right here and could back up what you’re trying to say. This would at least prove you’re not making up some farfetched story or remaking some story someone else told you. That someone you’re looking for is called validation. Although, validation isn’t a person, a lot of people spend a lot of time looking for it.

            I know some of you are probably thinking “Oh no, what did Carla do now” ha, I haven’t done anything. I am that validation tool! I don’t seek out anyone to validate events that have taken place; I have the uncanny gift of total recall. Before you say, that’s cool, or I wish I did; let me tell you, sometimes it plain sucks. If you happen to be someone that actually knows me or has known me for a long time, you know what I’m talking about. For those that don’t know me, I am a person’s worst nightmare. I will remember names, faces, what you did wrong, who you did it to and the outcome. If you’re someone that did something to me, believe me when I tell you I remember it all like it was yesterday.  See, I am my own validation tool!

            When I ask if we really need validation, the simple answer could be not unless you are a psychic making money by prompting questions that require validation. We don’t really need it, but sometimes it’s nice to have. I have told many stories about when I was younger and the crazy things that have happened. Sometimes, I’ve had people look at me like there is no way this could have happened. Jaws drop when there’s someone around that knew me from the “glory” days and they recall things that happened and wondered whatever became of me. I used to tell stories of things my parents did prior to getting divorced, I told a lot of these stories to my son. I don’t think he fully believed it until we ran into a friend of mine from my old neighborhood. I saw a little light bulb go off and it confirmed his mom was a nut job for a reason. Sometimes validation comes when you aren’t seeking it and that validation can be a bitter pill.

            There are many stories I have told about my childhood and how I was treated by my parents, grandparents and that other part we call extended family. It’s no secret that I think very little of my family on both parents side. Knowing I’m the honest, put it in your face type of person, I’ve taken a lot and bottled it up. It was like having a whole world watch what you go through and act like it wasn’t happening. Telling the stories is cathartic and at times funny. I’ve always known that people knew what was going on, but no one listened. Unless you were someone that actually hung around me on a constant basis, you had no clue. Those that were around me and knew/know firsthand, it’s still embarrassing but life moves forward. Just adds to the more funny stories I conjure up.

            So, here’s where the bitter pill comes in. Imagine a moment when you lose someone in your life that you didn’t particularly rate a 10 on the Richter scale of personalities, parenting and breathing. People call thinking they’re offering kind words and you’re sitting there hearing the teacher’s voice from Charlie Brown in your head; yep, you all know that sound. Then you talk to someone you haven’t spoken to since the last time Rip Van Winkle was awake and they drop a bombshell. “Your loved one was a nice person, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why she hated you so much and treated you so badly” Bam! A validation you for darn sure weren’t looking for. Ewwww, can you taste that bitter pill? Well, at least now there’s confirmation that a mind wasn’t slowly being lost into a spinning world of mediocrity and sarcasm for no reason; but did it have to come at that moment?!! Some people have no tact at all to say the least.

            That was the first unsolicited validation to come my way, there have been more after; but none that packed that sort of punch. Recently, I’ve had a validation that for some reason I always seek out and it’s not really a bitter pill. It’s more of a healing process; those are the ones you’re grateful for. When you know without a shadow of a doubt that you aren’t the only one that lived through a waking resemblance to hell and survived, the stories come out of your head and are pushed into the universe. Knowing that a superficial bubble shaped many lives the same way and many of the floating bubbles inside the bigger bubble had the wherewithal to know that things weren’t right is surreal. We all had the same thing in common at that time, no voice of our own and no one to speak up for us.

            Do we really need validation? No, not really. I think it can turn a person into one that is always searching and trying to please others before themselves. Can we all use a little validation? Absolutely, that may be the one thing that keeps us sane and reaffirms we haven’t totally fallen off the deep end. Perhaps, if more of us had been listened to when we were children, a lot of issues we see in this day wouldn’t be issues.

 ~Just my two cents