Who I Am, Who Am I?

My Tony, pictured here, greatly appreciates the positive comments and emails regarding his photography attempts.  Dee, I'd read your email aloud to him.  He's nearly 17, the baby of his sib group now all over 18.

I'm gonna quote The Adoption Counselor.  I'd always liked her work, but I became even more concretely impressed with her in totality after I'd met her in Atlanta last year.  We shared a dinner and the commiseration, or more so, the camaraderie, the commonalities of our teenage years and our later go get 'em grade grubbing college years, as we set off to conquer the world - now nearly a completely hilarious thought in light of what all we went through in our parallel universes.

We got conquered, almost obliterated, it would appear on the years that followed, now we're both trying to recover.  But I'm fairly sure she shares my thoughts that still, in spite of everything, this was supposed to be what we were supposed to be doing all along.

A quote today regarding what she had to tolerate in her kids when they were teenagers: My young adults, however, are lining up in their unhappiness with me as I set strong and impenetrable boundaries about the kind of behaviors I will tolerate in those over the age of 19. I have, like you, tolerated the intolerable for many years, and I won’t do that twice. I never, ever, re-live the teen years with someone who is no longer a teen.

I, too, face this conundrum in several of my children, my grown children who buck the law.  I'd never allow regular run of the mill criminals in my home, I'm having to take an unpopular stance here as well.  Knowing that some of my kids will rob me blind, or will severely negatively influence the younger children, that they'll posture here, try to glamorize a loser thug life mentality, or attempt to victimize, makes them now not able to participate in family functions.

I must continue working to keep everyone safe, there's a large next generation involved as well.

I can't take the spectacular risk that something might happen, too much has happened in the past that has brought me to this very sad point in my parenting.  I wanted so much more for my kids, even just a minimal expectation that they obey laws, I wasn't pressing anyone to earn a Fulbright Scholarship.

These aren't arbitrary dumb Mama rules, these are the laws of our land that the mean police are expecting them to obey.  Didn't I spend YEARS telling them that hitting someone is assault?  Hello?

Dumb rules and mean police?  This is what they tell me when arrested. Always, "I wasn't even doing anything."  Yeah, right.  I did not just fall off the turnip truck.  OK what I say IRL is, "I ain't just fell off that dang truck you know."  My 'you' sounds like 'yew.'  I can't help it.

I sigh, and go on about my business each day, praying for light bulb moments, praying that my kids will someday mature enough to recognize this proven theory of consequences.

I expect my children to respect authority.  These deputies are putting their lives on the line to protect us.  I greatly appreciate this act of valor, some of my thuggish kids wanna buck this fact of life.

I'd picked up some Revere Wear pots and pans at yard sales, stashing the shiny items on a shelf in the garage room, what is this?  A reverse Hope Chest?  Stuff I'll drag out to use when these destructive years are over? When I'm alone and know that they won't be used as weapons, or left in the yard for some ridiculous reason?

Alone?  The solitary quiet life appeals greatly to me and to my frazzled nervous system, my exhausted adrenal system that's taken such a beating after years of fight or flight syndrome, the massive trauma, and the craziness.

A friend had once told me that they were positive they'd marry again.  I'm sure that they will.  But I remember thinking to myself that afternoon, "How can anyone know that or feel that strongly?"

I don't think I'll ever marry again.  It's not on my radar.  Believe it or not, marrying was never a goal for me even though I did it twice.  It's just not among my thought processing.

I dream about garden beds, or beaches, or walking hundreds of miles on Florida beaches, stopping in hotels at night to recover from that day's hike down Florida's Eastern coast.  I set goals in my mind and then throw my heart over the bar, knowing my body will follow and work to make these goals happen.  But these goals don't involve other folks.

That would impede my goals in that I can't set goals for others, only for myself.

Am I just socially impossible?  Now too damaged?  Maybe so.

My personal upcoming goals will, and continue to, involve continued self-sufficiency in food production and in solar panels at some point.  I will go to plenty of Braves games, their Spring Training games, minor league games, grandchildren's games, with no responsibilities other than feeding myself.

My goals will not involve criminals.  I will love them from afar where it is safe, but I won't tolerate these negative behaviors at all.  I am not amused.  I don't find this to be cool.

If they consider me to be strait-laced, uncool, a church marm with no sense of humor, then who cares?

I'm still happy with who I am.