Whose Mom?

There's a student that comes into the institute almost every day.  He's so polite and I've gotten used to him being there.  The other day he showed me a funny YouTube video.  Yesterday, he came in to ask me a few questions about the upcoming luau and sat down for a  minute.

We were talking about him attending a mission prep class and I asked when he was planning on going on his mission.  He said,  "Oh, I won't even be 18 until November."  I said,  "You're my son, Ian's age.  He would've turned 18 last month."

To my surprise, he said,  "You're Ian's Mom?  I knew Ian.  I was at scout camp when he got the "Cool Dude" award."

It's been a while since anyone referenced me as Ian's mom.  I used to get it at school, stake activities, and just, all over town.  It's a title I love.  It felt really good to hear it again.

Book Club, Sweet Book Club

I finished my book club book today.   Since I can't say what I think at book club,  I think I'll use this private forum of mine.

What a stupid, stupid choice.  Let me back up.  I went to 2 branches of the library to find it.  When I looked on the computer, I found that no library in the county had it.  That should have been my first clue.  I finally accepted that I would have to spend money on a book that I didn't know whether I would like and went to Barnes and Noble.  I asked for it and they thought it was a recipe book and said they didn't have it.  I told them it was fiction and the author's name, only to find out it was in the children's section--not even young adult or teen but the actual children's section.

I got the paperback, so at least it didn't cost me $16, but it wasn't worth the $6.  Here's the title, are you ready:  The Candymakers.  It's about children who win a contest and get to tour a candy factory.  Sound familiar?  There are four 12 years olds, 3 boys and a girl.  They all have their own issues and quirks.  My favorite one was the 12 year old boy who is trying to deal with death.  His phobias and coping mechanisms were especially entertaining to me--can you hear the sarcasm?  It's my book club.  Did it even dawn on the person who chose this (who, yes, had already read it)  that I was living with this in reality?    I could make a list of real-life, in my home, osbtacles that my 12 year old faces every day.

Of course, in the end, it turned out the person who died wasn't really dead and there was a happy ending.  That infuriated me even further.  But what should I expect from a child's book right?

The writing was okay I suppose--for 12 year olds.  Predictable--maybe not for preteens.  There were spies,  bullies,  fantasy contests and oh yeah,  caffeine as a villain. 

How could I possibly hate it?

No Title

The last few days I've had a flare-up of regret and guilt.  It's no secret that I wish I had been different, done different; and said different things as a mother.  It came to me the other night though, that I have one thing that I said/did that I don't regret.

I told Ian to go.  As the doctors were frantic and the chaos was ensuing in his room, Keith was blessing him and I told him to go.  In fact,  I think I said, "Run."

I'm not sorry I said that.  I'm not regretful that I didn't want him to keep suffering.  I'm not sorry that I didn't beg him to stay. 

I ache for him to be here and I blame myself for pushing him too hard.and being frustrated with his teenage angst.  I blame myself for not understanding how bad things were and not taking  him to the hospital earlier.   I regret a lot of things.

BUT,  I never rethink telling him to go.

"A Parently"

Today's post is totally not my words.
I didn't want to link, but I do want to give credit  to the actual writer.
His name is Scott McCown and his blog is called The Morning Drive.
I think this is very clever.

Apparently, some parents are not parenting.
Apparently, some think parenting is the same as having offspring.
Apparently, some parents want to be their child’s best friend and not their guide.
Apparently, some children have never heard the word, “no” and consequently rule the home.
Apparently, some children receive little if any training in the discipline of life.
Apparently, we are not teaching parents that education begins and continues at home.
Apparently, we are not teaching families that religion begins at home.
Apparently, according to someone I talked with recently, my way of thinking is both old fashioned, yet radical.
Apparently, I misunderstand Deuteronomy 6:4-9, Joshua 24:15, and Proverbs 29:15.
Apparently – a parently – so.
-Scott

Isn't that clever?

High Tide

The waves of grief were back to slap me today.  I'm not even sure what caused it.
Nothing, I don't need a reason. 
All the old feelings of guilt were drowning me. 
Here's the list:

Why did I leave Ian home on that mattress and go blueberry picking?
Why didn't I tell Keith he couldn't go to Oregon, that I needed him to meet us at the hospital days before we actually went?
Why didn't I yell and scream and insist that they do every test  possible?
Why didn't I figure out why I was an emotional basket case for weeks?
Why?
Why?
Why?

Mikey's a lot shorter than me.  Waves cover him easier.  He's been under-water for a couple of months.  What can I do?
Why now?

Just Questions.
No Resolution.
No Insight.

My Girl



I Love Lucy

 Best Costume Prize for a 50s Sweet 16 party. 
Not a retro dress, but great-grandma's actual dress, scarf and pearls.  Go Lucy.

Introductions

I went to a meeting  for the seminary teachers last weekend.  It was an opportunity to meet all the people I'll be working with.  The director asked me to introduce myself.  I just said my name, no details.  I can't really give more of an introduction than that.  I don't want to tell anyone about my life, my family.  I don't want to answer any questions.  I don't want to show any emotion.

It's the third or fourth time this has happened.  I finally understand it.  It doesn't change anything,  I'll probably do exactly the same thing next time, and the next.