Knowing, Tapping and A Continuing Soccer Schedule

Dee wrote yesterday of running into an old friend, and of the vast disconnect between that person and herself.  I can so relate.

I feel as if I'm from another planet, a more upside down one where sticker charts and behavior modification's just a joke, ours is a different reality, a world in which I've been stolen from so often, lied to constantly, had my house torn down around me, and had outside critics who just don't have a clue regarding trauma.

I spoke with a woman yesterday, an intact family dealing with serious heartbreak in some areas in which I've reluctantly been drawn into, and I suppose it's all the more difficult in a family that doesn't have trauma background issues?  Maybe?  Who knows?  Heartbreak is universal.

Searching my ragged memory back some three decades, I can barely remember this woman before she married and learned about major heart aches.  I can remember my own silly self then, in our start-up church that grew rapidly, a very young congregation.  I'm still in church with many of those same people, and life's been tough on everyone in a variety of ways.

An adoption worker had recently stated to me that they have had to talk some families out of specific children available for adoption, knowing that based on the child's mental health history indications, he/she would likely blow out of the placement rapidly leaving a bereft and often irreparably damaged family.

I can so see that happening.

Why was a soccer ball in our refrigerator?

"Oh!  There it is!" my incredibly cute Nando piped up, in response to JoJo's startled wail, he'd only wanted a glass of milk.

Gina had just given that ball to Nando on Saturday, he'd spaced out apparently, but, at least, it is not lost.

Chuy's been very quiet, withdrawn once again after that burst of creative anguish he'd expressed so beautifully.  He, however, has not gone into his once regularly scheduled Ignore Mom Routine, once so very predictable after he's been emotionally vulnerable. I always allowed him that space, knowing he needed it.

CW turns 16 today.  I remember standing in the hospital that morning in 1996, just ten days after my sister died, falling absolutely in love with him the very first second he was born.  He's been a great kid, very easy going and lovable.  Girls flock to him, yet he's appalled by some of them, their forwardness is ridiculous, he knows he's way too young for all this dating malarkey, plenty of time for that later, yet he's right mature.

JoJo, 15, Allen, 16, CW, 16, Chuy, 16 and Martin, 18, my upstairs boys are all pretty cool guys, none of them chafing at the bit to get grown up and gone, rather they're just good guys overall.  I wish they'd help more, of course, or not be ornery and aggressive (well two of them), but to have those five teenage boys be pretty affable overall has been a blessing.

Scotty'll be 14 next week, Tony's 16, they're downstairs, and not a problem either.

We go uneventfully to soccer each evening, they all quietly go to bed when told to do so,  all 12, they trash the kitchen and eat constantly, but that's OK with me in comparison to all we've endured over the years.

This is normal, this is what we've yearned for.  I'll do dishes til the cows come home, I just don't mind it, it cleans my garden hands, this is what mom do versus breaking up fist fights, taking knives out of angry hands, calling the deputies, afraid to sleep at night, the list goes on and on and on.

Somehow this evening I need to be up to the high school for a parent cheerleading meeting at 5:30 for next school year, plus get Nando to a 6:15 soccer practice and a 7:30 game for Allen.  Jack and Tabby've been dragging their bikes to the soccer park, awkwardly in our van, we're rarely home before nine and everyone's hungry again since we've eaten early suppers. I do not miss their games, I'm always watching and I tend to be at Nando's practice sessions too.

I can do this.  There's no violence, no irrational and dangerous behaviors, just a busy schedule and a ton of work.  To see my grandchildren gathering eggs from my hens without being harassed by disturbed individuals who seek to do harm is priceless, yet came at a cost.

I do grieve for what could've, or should've been.  But I know that I know that I know that I did all I could.

Remember Lisa's tapping event on May 3rd.