As I was doing some more packing, one of my beloved cats jumped into a box that I had stupidly stacked a little too high. Both the box and cat fell down on me. I have the bruise to prove it in a less than flattering place, but I will spare you the image. I am on the floor, making sure the damn cat was okay, while throwing everything back in the box for a second time. “How do I get myself into these situations?”

……

Many years ago, before Joe, before the kids, Christin and I found ourselves in a very similar situation. There was a brief period in time where we were on the outs with Alphonso. Naturally, it was not anything Christin and I did. Alphonso was just being a douche for a brief period in his life. Christin and I woke up one Saturday, both of us having the same day off. Doing retail work, that was definitely a rarity. Over breakfast that consisted of coffee and Tylenol, we had the brilliant idea of “Let’s just find our own place.” The logic being  was Alphonso could keep the apartment, have all his colorful friends move in with him, and Christin and I would start over in a two bedroom that we know we could afford between the two of us. We both did a quick survey of our belongings, trying to do a mental count on how many trips we could do our quick move in. The only big thing that may be a problem to move was her bed. At this point I had been sleeping on the floor. I was totally willing to say good-bye to my couch cushions, while slamming down a twenty at the local Goodwill.

Just like that our plan was set into place.

In the span of twenty minutes Christin and I decided we were going to move out. Next up, we had to find a place. I mean how hard could that be? We were living in a somewhat hip and up and coming city. There were apartments all over the place. Of course with Christin being the only one with a car we would have to find a place within walking distance to work. Something affordable because we worked retail, that should say enough. We both went to our respective rooms to get ready for the day. Christin to her bedroom and well, I was already in the livingroom so I did not have far to go. I could hear her R&B music blasting from her bathroom. Lauryn Hill or something like that. The fact the Christin and I had two totally different taste in music told me we were off to a great start. I threw some Michelle Branch into my old worn down cd player (because that’s one of Christin’s favorites) and started getting ready for our new adventure. Finding a new place to live!

……

By the time I returned with coffee from our local gas station right down the street, Jordan was already there. Jordan was a new guy Christin was slowly starting to get to know. I liked this guy. He was always a gentleman with Christin. Every time he came over, he would give her a gentle kiss on her cheek. He never made her pay when he took her out (unlike some of her previous suitors) and most importantly he made her laugh. Her laugh, her high-pitched almost screaming shrill could make a cat go crazy, but that is how you knew you had her.

“Hi Jordan! Did Christin tell you our new plan?”

“Uh, she did, are you sure you guys know what you are getting into?”

“Duh, it’s the perfect fix. I am just surprised we did not think of it sooner.”

As I made my way to the kitchen, I see a complete stranger washing our dirty dishes. With the strangers back to me, I turned to Christin and Jordan and mouthed “Who is this person?”

Jordan stood up, while Christin gathered her purse. “Jen, this is Ryan, he’s an old friend who will be tagging along with us today if that’s cool?”

Great. I hate new people.

This Ryan character turned towards me, and just gave a quick nod of his head, while washing the dishes.

“Christin, can I talk to you real quick in your room……I need to, ummm, borrow a shirt.”

The look she gave Jordan did not escape me.

“Why does this new person have to come along?”

“I don’t know, Jordan said he may be able to help.”

“Is he the apartment manager of a complex?”

“No, he works at Boeing with Jordan.”

“Then how in the hell can he help?!”

……

Just like that, the four of us were off. We took Jordan’s car, and I made Christin sit in the back seat with me. First up was this cute little complex right off of Pac. Hwy. Not too much further of a walk/drive from where we already lived. The 500.00 deposit along with the 40.00 application fee (per person) was enough to turn us away. Just a little bump in the road. We did not account for the deposit fee in this little plan of ours. The second, third, and fourth complex pretty much ended with the same result.

Somehow when I was not paying attention, Christin was now in the front seat next to Jordan, and Ryan was in the backseat. I was so not in the mood to make small talk. I was on a mission. We had to find an apartment ASAP or Christin and I would be stuck covering Alphonso’s portion of the rent……again.

I grabbed my notebook and pen from my purse and started working the numbers. There had to be a way for us to afford the deposit, application fee, and first months rent. There just had to be, we had a plan!

“I think you added that wrong.”

I looked over and Ryan  just happened to be reading over my shoulder.

“No, I did not add it wrong.”

“You did not carry the one, you should use a calculator.”

“Well actually I prefer doing longhand because you never know what kind of mistakes you can make with a calculator.”

“Except you made a mistake doing long hand.”

“No, look, 9+5=15, then you carry the one, and see, there ya go.”

“9+5 is 14.”

“No it’s not.”

“Why would I lie?”

“I do not think you are intentionally lying, I just think you are wrong……Christin, do something!”

“Jen, 9+5 is 14.”

I may have heard a snicker from Ryan.

……

We decided to stop to get some lunch. I do not know about anyone else, but the stress was making me hungry, and between you and me, I kinda felt Christin was not totally into this. Just from the perspective of me being in the backseat, I think she was spending a little too much time listening to Jordan’s stories and not enough time on our mission……finding a new place!

Denny’s was pretty crowded. We were quickly packed like sardines into a booth that claimed to sit four, but the reality was anything but that. I glanced up from my menu, noticed that Jordan had his arm gently wrapped around Christin, while they were sharing a menu. It was both cute and disgusting. Maybe I needed to be a little bit more patient. Clearly Christin is happy, and we all know it has been awhile since she had an actual nice guy interested in her. So, fine. I will try to bring it down a notch.

“Are you ready to order?”

Our lovely waitress whose name tag stated in a big bold font, “Becky”, looked as if she would rather be any other place than at our table.

“Can you come back to me, I am still looking.”

I could not decide between a burger or chicken tenders. They both looked good and I was pretty hungry, and…

“I’ll have the chicken friend steak, eggs sunny side up, toast as the side”

“The steak and eggs, scrambled, side of pancakes.”

“Chicken tender salad with ranch as the dressing, no bread.”

Oh that’s right, Christin was doing her low carb thing again.

“Are you ready now?”

I could tell by Becky’s tone she may have been annoyed.

“I’ll have the cheese burger and fries.”

“How do you want your burger?”

“What?”

“Pink, a little pink, or no pink?”

“Oh, a little pink.”

“What kind of cheese?”

“I’m sorry?”

“American, swiss, cheddar.”

“American, that’s fine.”

“What kind of fries?”

“Okay seriously? French fries, how many different options do you have for french fries?”

“Seasoned, sweet potato, we also have onion rings.”

“Regular french fries, the kind you have pictured here in this picture. You did not spend this much time on everyone else’s order!!!!”

Pretty safe to say someone is going to now spit in my food.

Christin, Jordan and Ryan were now looking at me, all wide-eyed and such. So, maybe I was a little bit rude, but come on. All I wanted was a burger and fries!

Lunch conversation was fairly, well, predictable. I listened to Jordan’s stories of how he builds airplanes, or something like that. Christin was telling the guys about her job, and Ryan apparently had some sort of office job. I was not really paying that much attention, I was too busy working the numbers, trying to find a solution we had to be missing.

“Christin, what if we applied for a pay-day loan, what do you think? We would have the money for a deposit.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

I looked to my left, where the unsolicited advice came from. Ryan. See, this is why I do not like new people. I do not know this guy well enough for him to be inserting his opinion on something he knows nothing about.

“Jen, I have to agree, a pay-day loan will just keep taking money from our check until we are able to pay it back and the interest rates are crazy.”

“Yeah, but maybe if we could pay the loan off in time then we wont get hit with the…”

“She’s right. You’re just going to screw yourselves with the interest rates.”

And now I had hit my limit. I turned to Ryan, while making an exaggerated effort of throwing my notebook and pen on the table.

“So here’s the thing, I do not need to be told what wont work, I need to be told what will work, and no offense Ryan, but you do not know our situation, and if we do not do this now, then Christin and I will just be stuck another month paying for Alphonso, who you do not even know but trust when I say he is so not dependable, unless it has to do with the new Marc Jacobs bag, then he is all up on that, and we cannot keep on enabling, what’s that saying, give a man a fish he eats for a day, teach a man to fish, he eats longer…….you know that saying…….we have to do something, and even though you have your little fancy job at Boeing, Christin and I do not have that, we are pay check to pay check and I have my kid to think about and…..”

“You have a kid?”

“Jen, let’s go to the restroom.”

I knew her tone, she was worried I would say something I may regret. She may have been worried I would say something to embarrass her in front of Jordan. At this point, she may have been right.

“Umm, yes I have a kid, is that okay with you or would you like to also give me parenting advice along with my living situation?”

“Are you ready for dessert?”

Good Ole Becky.

“Just the check please.”

“Is this all on one or separate?”

Jordan spoke up before I could protest.

“One check please.”

Digging in my wallet I pulled out 15.00 in cash, should be enough to cover my burger and tip. I gave it to Christin. She gave it back.

“How old is you kid?”

“Ummm, he is, ummmm, he is…”

“He is just over a year…..we will be right back.”

Where was she going? I want to go too. She can’t leave me here at this table with Mr Know-it all.

“Jordan wants to order a pie to go.”

“But you do not eat pie, it has carbs!”

……

As soon as Christin and Jordan left to go order some so-called pie, I quickly took Christin’s place in the booth. I had my notebook, I had my pen, I had my third refill on diet coke, I was good to go! I am a fixer, I can do this, I can find a way.

“Do you mind if I give you some advice?”

I glance up from my notebook, Ryan was just sitting there all “chill” like, like he just had the answers to everything.

“Yes, I do mind but thank you for the offer.”

“Between your deposits, application fees and the cost of moving, renting a truck or whatever you guys plan on doing, it would make more sense for you guys to stay where you are for another month, give your friend your 30 day notice, that way when June comes around, the money that you would be putting towards rent can now be put towards your new place. You guys just need a little more time.”

“But we do not have time.”

“But you do.”

“Nope, not really.”

“What will be different waiting an extra month, how will that be different from now?”

And I had enough. I mean I guess Ryan meant well, but I felt he was just shooting me down. I had a plan and here he was this new person who I just met hours before coming in and telling me what I was doing wrong. I do not do well with that. I gathered up my belongings without a word.

At the exact second I stood up from the table, Becky, was seating a table of ten right next to us. A female from that table and myself, happened to…..what word am I looking for……collide. Both of us backs were to each other, so I am getting up, she is trying to sit and well, there ya go. Everything after that happened pretty fast.

“Oh I’m sorry.”

“Watch yourself Bitch.”

“Okay, seriously?”

“You best be paying attention.”

“Paying attention to what, I just apologized!”

“If you were paying attention you would not have to apologize.”

“Well this day just gets better and better.”

Ryan was up from the table, Christin and Jordan made their way back just as the lovely lady next to me was slurring her words.

“Jen, what’s happening.” Christin was worried, scared.

“Bro, take her to the car”

From what I gathered Ryan was telling Jordan to tak Christin to the car? Sure….take my wing man away from me!

“You sure? You got this” Jordan was already on his way out with Christin.

Got what? What is happening here?!?!

“I think you were after my man.”

“Seriously, the lovely gentleman over there who is wearing a Tupac shirt that is about five sizes too big? I am good.”

“You wanna go?”

“Go where? What is happening?”

Ryan was at my side, hand on my back which was a little too close to comfort to me, he guided me to the exit while whispering to me “Jen, they are tweaking we need to go.”

To this day I have no idea what tweaking means, although I believe it has something to do with being high on drugs.

“Yeah Bitch that’s what I thought.”

So here is the thing about me. I do not know how to fight. Would not have the slightest clue what to do if some girl started to pull her hair up while taking her earings off. Maybe just stand there and look cute? Hell if I know. For whatever reason, adrenaline, cockiness, confidence, I felt that perhaps I could have the last world.

“Tell your man to lay off on the grand slams and take his money to get you guys sober.”

The words just escaped my mouth…..and before I knew it, Christin, Jordan, Ryan and me were back in the car…….and poor Becky never got a tip.

I had no other choice than to shake his hand. Jen did the same.

“So, I saw you guys struggling out here and saw that you had a little one. Don’t worry, I’m not some crazy axe murderer, I just want to get you guys home safe.”

Once again, Jen and I exchanged glances. We were weary of this guy. Given our past, who wouldn’t be?

“Yeah that’s fine. We just live right up there,” Jen said, pointing in the direction of our apartment.

So now not only were we getting into a stranger’s car and now, said stranger knows where we live. Still hesitant, I stood back, watching Jen and Jordan load up the groceries in the back of his car. I put my load in and slowly got in the front seat as Jen and Vinnie got in the back. I quickly looked around the car, making sure there wasn’t any rope, tape or a gun to be found. I had seen my fair share of murder mysteries, I knew what to look for. I didn’t put my seatbelt on, just in case I had to make a quick exit. Clearly, that wouldn’t even be an option at this point because I couldn’t leave Jen and Vinnie. What did we get ourselves into?

“So, I have to ask: Why are you walking down the highway?”

“It’s a long story” I said quickly, not wanting to engage in conversation with a possible serial killer.

“Her car got stolen” Jen said, with no hesitation.

“Damn, that sucks. How long ago did it get stolen?”

“A few days ago,” I said, really wishing this guy would stop asking us question and just get us home.

“It’s not the first time it was stolen. She also had it stolen when she lived down in Cali.”

Jen just couldn’t stop. Next, she would tell him my social security number and probably tell him where I work. Did she want me to die? Finally, our apartment came into view and my rattled nerves settled a bit. Jordan pulled into the parking spot and started to get out.

“It’s fine. I think we got it. Thank-you for the ride.” I said, wanting for this day to be over already.

“I can grab some bags and help you guys up…it’s not a problem”

I looked over at Jen and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Ok, yeah that’s fine.”

We made it up the 3 flights of stairs. Exhausted, I flopped on the couch. Jen took Vinnie to the room to lay him down but not before she mouthed to me “Ask him if he wants a drink of water” I rolled my eyes at her. Something she was used to.

“Jordan, would you like some water or something” I said, less than enthusiastic.

“No, Im good but thank you” Unexpectedly, he sat down on the chair across from me.

I was not in the mood for conversation. My legs hurt, my hands permanently disfigured from the bags and my back felt like it had been hit with a hammer.

“So, I don’t think we have officially met. I didn’t get your name.”

“I’m Christin and I really appreciate the ride. It’s been a really long – “

Jordan cut me off.

“I get it. What kind of guy picks up strangers off the side of the road, right?”

He read my mind.

“Well, yeah. Do you pick up strangers on the side of the road often?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t have but I saw the baby and felt bad for you guys.”

“Well, we made it home safe and sound. It’s getting late and I have work in the morning.”

“So where do you work?”

I didn’t know whether to tell him or not. Chances are if I didn’t, Jen would.

“Wal-Mart”

“That’s cool. I work down the road at Boeing.”

“Boeing, huh. How long have you been there?”

“Almost 6 years. My dad got me the job. He’s been there for over 30 years.”

“6 years? How old are you?”

“How old do I look?”

“I would say maybe like 22 or 23”

“26, but you know what they say.”. Black don’t crack.”

That made me laugh, maybe a little too hard. He smiled.

“You have a really nice smile”

“Thanks”, I said, embarrassed at the compliment.

The next 2 hours flew by. We talked about nothing and everything at once. I couldn’t get over what a gentleman he really was. Whether it was genuine or not would remain to be seen.

“Are you guys still talking?” Jen asked as she came out of the room.

“Yeah, Christin wouldn’t let me leave” Jordan said, with a grin on his face.

“Whatever” I said, rolling my eyes.

Jordan got up.

“I have to go, I have to be to work at 5am”

I got up to show him to the door. Jen was lingering in the kitchen, keeping a close eye on things.

“It was really nice to meet you, Christin. You too Jen.”

“Thanks again for the ride.” I said, while walking him out.

“So, would it be okay for me to ask for your number and maybe call you sometime?”

Well, chances are if he didn’t murder me by now, it wasn’t going to happen at all. Plus, he had a good job and manners, something I hadn’t seen much of lately.

“Sure” I gave him my number and he gave me a hug in return.

I walked back in to find Jen with her ear at the door and her eyes in the peep hole.

“Tell me everything”

Jen made herself and I a vodka and coke, we sat down and I filled her in.

“He seems like a really nice guy” I said. Jen wasn’t convinced. Probably because I said that about every jerk I had ever met. I wasn’t really convinced either.

……

Oddly enough, as I was wondering around the store parking lot, looking for my Jeep with the pink sticker on the back, I wasn’t convinced I would be able to give up chocolate either. And then it hit me. I had parked on the other side of the store. Quickly, I made my way to the other side of the parking and there it was: MY JEEP. My car wasn’t stolen today, thankfully. However, I never did get my car back when it was stolen about 16 years ago but what I did find unexpectedly, was on the side of the highway in the form of a genuinely, nice guy.

 

Christin

I was at the store today, picking up some fruit since I gave up chocolate a few days ago. That’s right, fruit. I need something to combat these vicious cravings that hit me about 9pm at night. Instead of reaching for that Hershey bar, yours truly will now be reaching for some grapes and strawberries. I walked out of the store with my fruit in hand, and walked to the spot where I parked my car. My Jeep with the pink Vodkacalling.com sticker on the back was nowhere to be found. In a panic, I started walking fast down each line of cars. Nothing. Instantly, I was brought back to another time when I came out to find my car…gone.

It was 6:45am and as usual, I was running late for work. I grabbed my coffee and purse, while saying goodbye to Jen and Alphonso. They were still up from the night before, playing with makeup and gossiping about the latest drama at work. As much as I wanted to hear about how a cashier had two possible baby daddies’, I didn’t want to get “the talk” from my supervisor about being late again. I made my way down to the parking garage and got ready to get into my car…except there was no car. I freaked out and ran back upstairs.

“Did one of you guys move my car?” I said, trying to remain somewhat calm.

“What are you talking about?” Jen asked, looking at Alphonso, who happened to not even have his license.

“My car is gone!” I screamed at the two of them, irritated at their blatant obliviousness.

I grabbed the phone and called 911.

“Yes, my car has been stolen. No I don’t know who stole it. Yes, it has a bumper sticker that says, “Don’t hate the game, hate the player”.

This dispatcher was getting on my damn nerves with her questions.

As I am in a full out meltdown, I look over and Alphonso is doing something with Jen’s eyebrows. Am I in the twilight zone or what?

After pulling myself together, I realized that I needed to call into work and let them know that I would not be in today.

“Hi, this is Christin, I won’t be in today because my car got stolen”

“Would you be able to come in later, we need coverage in your department”

Was she serious right now?

“No, I can’t come in, I don’t have a car to get there at the moment because it has been STOLEN”

“Oh okay, well will you be in tomorrow?”

Really?! They are more worried about me coming into work than my $20,000 car being taken, probably by hoodlums that are headed to the Mexican border so they can strip it or sell it to the cartel for some beer money.

I hung up the phone, speechless at the lack of urgency anyone had about the situation. Jen and Alphonso were cool as cucumbers, work wanted me to come in and the dispatcher acted like this was the least of her worries.

A few days later and still no car, we needed to groceries. Neither Jen or Alphonso had a car so we had to walk. Alphonso was at work, so Jen put Vinnie in a stroller and the three of us set off for the store. Imagine seeing our little trio walking down the highway: Jen in full hair and makeup with her ankle boots pushing little bald Vinnie in his stroller and me, well, I was irritated and a mess.

An hour later we get to the store. Jen and I were exhausted, but at least Vinnie was sound asleep. We made our way down the aisles, grabbing what we needed, not thinking about how we were going to get the bags home.

After checking out, we hung as many bags as we could on Vinnie’s stroller without it tipping. We still had so many bags. We managed to get all the bags and began our trek home. By about half way home there was no circulation in my hands from the bags, Jen had bags in one hand and pushing a stroller in the other, so we stopped to catch our breath. As we are calculating how far we have to go, a black Mercedes Benz pulled up on the side of the road. I looked at Jen and she looked at me.

My first thought was to run, but how would we run with all these bags and a baby?

“What should we do?” I asked Jen, hoping she could be the voice of reason at this very moment.

“I don’t know, maybe he just needs directions or something.”

“Oh, shit Jen, he’s getting out of his car”

“Just calm down, let me handle it”

As the tall, dark, and very handsome young man came towards us, I just knew we were going to be on the front page of tomorrows newspaper. “Two Federal Way Women and A Baby Are Missing”

“Hey ya’ll, I saw you guys standing on the side of the highway, did you guys need a ride somewhere?”

I looked over at Jen because she said she would “handle it”.

“No, we’re okay. Thanks.”

The young man walked closer and held out his hand.
“Hi, I’m Jordan, nice to meet you”

……

I “think” I am a controlling person by nature. The OCD type of control, not the “bad” kind of control. “Where are you going, who are you with, are you wearing that?” That is something Lifetime “Movies of the Week” are made of. Yes, I am talking to you Tori Spelling.

I do like to be in control. In a perfect world I have every single hour accounted for during my day, and when something does not go as planned, then I have issues. Huge issues that usually end up with chocolate being involved. I suppose I may have food issues as well.

Pretty sure I was born this way, so it is kinda not my fault.

This week has been one of those weeks where I had everything perfectly planned out, and God had a pretty good laugh.

First up is moving. Still have no idea what is happening with that, yet according to my trusty appointment book, I have written down “Should know where we will be moving to!” I hate this. I hate the not knowing and feel anxiety (or chocolate) coming on because of this.

Also, I did not have written down that Gracie would have another seizure this week, and now I have a bunch of “add on” appointments I was not expecting.

My typical daily routine is volunteering in a classroom at one of my daughters schools. For lack of better word, I am a “room mom” while also doing PTA work. This particular class had testing all week, which means I was unable to be in the room. These test are no joke. Completely understand, although I missed my daily routine.

I saw two little girls in this class today.

Girl # 1 ~ Mrs. Pedro, how come you are not in our class?

Me ~ Awww, well, you guys have testing this week. It is very important you get that done without anyone other than your teacher in your room, but I am thinking of you and believe that you will do good.

Girl # 1 ~ Well I think you should just lock yourself in the office. No one will know you are there.

I kinda love this one. It made me feel so good that even though I had to change-up my daily routine, I was missed.

Girl # 2 ~ Mrs. Pedro, where are all your bags?

Me ~ What bags?

Girl # 2 ~ All the bags you have with you that you take to the classroom.

Me ~ Awww, remember, you guys have testing this week, I cannot be in your room, but I am thinking of you and believing that you will do amazing on your test.

Girl # 2 ~ Do you know we have three more test next week?!

Me ~ I know, but you guys can get through it! After next week I will see you more often.

Girl # 2 ~ I do not like this.

Me ~ I do not like it either.

Point being, my routine is not the only one changed this week, and these two special little girls noticed that….while feeling my pain.

The next four days are completely out of my daily/weekly routine. Lots of packing, appointments for Gracie, and waiting to hear from the apartment. My experience showed me today that sometimes breaking away from your routine is okay. Everything will work out just the way it is supposed to work out.

I can only hope these next four days will prove the same.

4:15 am. Sofia comes running into my room. “Mom, it’s happening again.” Immediately I shot out of bed. I knew what “it” was. Gracie. Gracie was having a seizure. I run to their bedroom, Sofia closely behind, and I see my daughter, my miracle baby, Gracie, laying on the bed convulsing. Her entire body had taken on a mind of its own. There was saliva foaming at her mouth, followed by sounds of , well, sounds I have never heard before. Gasping. I quickly turned her on her side, I pull her hair out of her face. I make sure she did not wet herself, which happens often during a seizure. She did not. “Sofia, go grab the medicine!” Sofia knew right away what she had to do.

“Gracie, Gracie, can you hear me. Gracie?”

Nothing.

More convulsing, gasping for breath.

I had to stay in control. Joe was at work. Quite frankly there was no time for me to think of anything else other than making sure Gracie was laying on her side, while Sofia went to grab the medicine.

“Here Mom.”

I grabbed the medicine, tore open the needle, fumbled with the vial of the magic stuff that will take her out of the seizure. My hands were shaking. How in the hell am I supposed to have a steady hand? Where is the applicator?  I cannot do this…..”Sofia, help, hold this for me!”

“Okay Mom, whatever you need.”

By the time it took me to prep her “recovery med”, Gracie was out of the seizure.

It took a few minutes for her to come to.

“Gracie, do you know who I am?” I have learned we have to ask these questions because if she does not know, then we need to head to the ER ASAP.

“Yes, my mother.”

“Who is that?”

“Sofia, my sister.”

“Who is that?”

“Why is the cat on my bed?”

“Do you remember anything?”

“I remember I hate Vinnie.”

And now I can relax. She is okay.

For now.

This is Gracie’s fourth seizure. This is also the first one I witnessed. Two have been at school and her very first one, we walked in on right as she was coming out of it.

I will never forget seeing her there, laying on the bed, helpless, shaking. This image will haunt me until the day I die. Yet, I know this will not be the last.

If you are reading this, please, for a moment, picture your son or daughter, your loved one. Whether they are three years old, thirteen years old, twenty-three years old or forty-three years old. Picture your little boy, or little girl, your niece or nephew, laying on the bed (and this is if you are lucky. Seizures do not always happen on the bed.) Shaking uncontrollably. Your son, daughter or loved one take on a form you have never seen before. You are helpless, you are their strength. You are your weakness….and while you are picturing all that, tell me what you would do? Because, I know I need to do better. There is no room for mess ups where seizures are involved.

Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy (SUDEP) is a real thing. Although rare, it is real.

I find my self questioning everything. Why me (why not me, right?) I am not strong enough. I hate this. I hate this so much. Everything in my life now is revolved around Gracie and her seizures. She does not deserve this. No one does.

Sofia, my God, Sofia is my hero. This little girl has seen it all. She is feisty yet shy. She is determined yet a follower. My mind is all over the place, but what I need you to know, especially if you have the pleasure of knowing Sofia. She has seen things that no ten-year old should see. She has seen it all with Gracie. If she seems “out of it” during school, or maybe a little bit quiet, or stressed, or perhaps wants to punch Christopher in the face, please understand. She has the weight of the world on her shoulders, and as much as I try to take some of that away from her, she has seen too much. She has changed, we all have changed.

We have been broken.

 

 

 

In 2014, I decided to go back to school. I really didn’t have a clear path of what I wanted to go to school for but I had always told myself “when the kids get older, it’s my turn.” My turn for what exactly, I wasn’t sure, but I knew someday I would have more time to chase the dreams I had to sacrifice because I was too busy raising two kids on my own. 2014 was my time to start. My first few quarters had me questioning if I had made the right decision. I hadn’t been to school in 15 years and had no idea what the ending result would be. To be honest, I didn’t even think about the ending result, I just literally took one step at a time, one day at a time. It wasn’t until this year, that I realized what my passion was. I was meant to help others. I want to help others that have been down on their luck as I have in the past. I want to be the person that empowers, encourages and elicits change in others. In deciding to move forward, I applied to WWU to continue my education beyond my Associates degree, which I will be receiving in June.

For the last two months, I literally run (walk fast) to the mailbox after I see the mailman leave. I quickly shuffle through each piece of mail, in hopes that today would be that day. Day after day, nothing but junk mail and bills. Day after day, disappointment and doubt. Maybe what I did wasn’t enough. I had a few rough quarters but nothing (in my opinion) that was too heinous. I mean, my math courses really gave me a run for my money. Sleepless nights, thoughts of throwing my book and laptop out the window, maybe even slightly hoping that the Instructor would… well, I won’t divulge that thought completely, but you get it. So, many times I thought “Am I too old?” “Does my brain even work the same as these younger folks that potentially are close to the age of my own children?” Maybe I set my sights a little too high. It sure wouldn’t be the first time. The hope was dissipating along with dreams. Who says you can’t have dreams when you are approaching 40. When technically 36 but it’s all downhill from here, so they say. Well, today I did my usual jog( fast walk) down the driveway, and quickly shuffled through my mail. An electricity bill, Coupons for horse training ( Last I checked, I didn’t have one) and my IPSY bag. Thoughts of how I needed to hide my monthly bag of make-up samples from Kharizma ran through my mind briefly. Then there it was. A letter mailed from Western Washington University. Should I open it now? Maybe I should prepare myself for the worst. You know that old saying “ Expect the worst, hope for the best”, well I was expecting the absolute, undeniable worst. In fact, I was sure of what was in that letter. Rejection. Slowly, I walked back up to the house. I sat down at the computer and here I am writing about what the letter revealed.

Dear Christin Crider,

We would like to offer you acceptance to the Human Service Bachelors Program for Fall 2017…

 

“It’s never too late to be what you might have been”

-BJ Gallagher

 

Christin.

Joe and I are both “off” on Saturday. He does not have to go to work, and I do not have to take the kids to school, or deal with any other appointments that usually arise during the week. It is my one and only day where I can sleep in, lay in bed while reading, and just relax.

Joe is a morning person and always has been. Even though he does not “have” to be up early on Saturday, he always is. Sometimes I want to kill him.

Today, he took the girls to the grocery store. He truly enjoys it. This is not something he feels he “has” to do, he offers, I happily agree, because I am not a stupid person.

Joe and I have two totally different experiences when we take the girls to the grocery store.

The Girls With Joe ~ They listen. Perfectly well-behaved little princess’.

The Girls With Jen ~ “Mom, I want this.” Can I ride in the cart? (No, you are 10) “Gracie, lets see who can run to the ice cream first.” “Sofia, watch, I can do a cart-wheel.”

While laying on the sofa, book ready to go, The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills playing on the t.v, I write him a list. They leave and I am in heaven. Down time is important, downtime for me is a necessity.

Two hours later they return from the store.

Two and a half hours later I am now throwing my clothes on. Off to the store I go to pick up everything that they forgot.

Fred Meyer was a freaking mad house. It seems that most people forgot that tomorrow is Easter Sunday, and the whole city of Federal Way met up at Fred Meyer to pick up last-minute essentionals……kinda like I was doing.

……

I am now home from the store. At this point all I want to do is take a nice long hot bubble bath. Kids are occupied, Joe is occupied, surely I can do this without being missed.  I only have one bathroom I have to make the rounds, asking if anyone needs in there before I lock myself in the comfort and quite of my sanctuary for the next hour….and then….the phone rings.

Crap. It was for Joe. I throw him the phone. He is talking to his family member while I am gathering my essentials. Headphones, book, freshly laundered robe, my fancy bubble bath….”Jen, they are on their way, will be here in 10.”

I have a few options here. I can pretend I did not hear him and head to the bath. Or, I could do the “right” thing (although for the record everyone has their own definition of what the “right” thing is) and throw on a pot of coffee and put some snacks out. I decided to play it safe “Oh…..does this mean you want me to wait on my bath?”

I did a quick run through of my living room. Since we are in the process of moving, I have boxes everywhere. Now that we are having visitors I had to manuever the boxes so there would be room. I mean standing room only but at least there would be room.

Imagine my surprise when the visitors brought us  three new boxes……filled to the brim with odds and ends to take to our new place that we do not even have yet. I just love surprises like that. Between you and me, if I am able to pull this move off without having a nervous breakdown, it will be a freaking miracle.

……

It is now 9:40 pm. Guess who is in the bath! I will give you a hint, it is not me. I am not sure how the rest of this night will progress. I still have to help the Easter Bunny out with Easter baskets, do meal prep for tomorrow, take a blasted bath, and find a way to lose 10 pounds by Monday.

Do not even ask.

I was volunteering at the school today. We are about nine weeks out until summer break. There’s a lot of PTA paperwork that goes on behind the scenes. Fundraisers, membership,  how to increase our membership for next year, board elections, and now my latest struggle, cookies and popcorn. Trust when I say that deserves its own blog post.

I am working hard, “getting it done!” You know the drill. I have my spreadsheets, I have my trusty notebook and pen in hand at all times, I am totally working this PTA President thing (despite what a select few may believe.) Next thing I know a phone call comes in. “Jen, go to the office, Joe is here.”

I freak out, just like I always do. Why is he here? OMG did something happen? Gracie…..I had my phone on me all day, did she have a seizure? Why is he here, why didn’t he call me? Oh yeah, he refuses to have a cell.

Frantically, I make my way down to the office. Trying to figure out what on earth could have happened. This is unusual behavior, I just know something is wrong. I pass a teacher in the hallway. “Hey, do you know you have visitors in the office?” I am almost running, “Yes, I know on my way, is something wrong?” I am gone before she could even reply.

As I turn the corner, I see both Joe and Gracie sitting in the office. Naturally, I am thinking the worst. Omg, what is happening?!?! I burst through the door, out of breath, look at Joe, look at Gracie “Whats wrong?!?!?!?!?!”

“Everything is okay…….I just could not remember if I had to pick the girls up early today?”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

Gracie is laughing, Joe looks confused, I am drenched in sweat.

“Well I saw a note you left me and I did not know if….”

“THAT WAS FROM LAST WEEK WHEN YOU PICKED THEM UP!”

Gracie is now rolling her eyes at both of her parents.

“Oh, so I did not need to pick them up?”

“So everything is okay? No seizure, everything is okay?”

“Well……yeah……so you do not want me to get Sofia?”

I am slowly starting to calm down.

“No. I did not even need you to pick Gracie up.”

Gracie is now in full-blown laughter.

“You guys are weird.”

Joe, Gracie and I say our goodbyes. I make sure he understands that I will bring Sofia home, once school is over with.

Fast forward two hours.

School is now over with. I meet up with Sofia. Sofia has this odd “look” on her face. I know something is up.

“Mom, was AJ at my school today?”

I have no idea where she is going with this.

“No, AJ is at work, why?”

“Some of my teachers told me my brother was at the school.”

“Oh…………that’s weird………..no……..AJ is at work, I mean Dad and Gra…………wait a minute…………OMG………….Dad was here………….OMG, they thought Dad was your brother?!?!?!?!?!”

“I do not know Mom, I was told my brother was here.”

Kill me now.

Seriously.

Basically, “some teachers” saw Joe with Gracie. Because “some teachers” know Gracie but not Joe,  then assumed that Joe was Sofia’s brother, which would make him my son?!?!?!

Are you kidding me?

So…..what we have now learned from this little blink of my day, what is our “take away”

1. Joe is no longer allowed at the school.
2. I will be making an appointment for some (apparently) much-needed Botox.

 

During my days of volunteering at the school, I come in contact with many parents. It may be a simple “Hello” followed by a smile from the Spanish-speaking Moms, or it may be hearing the life story of Billy’s mom during the morning announcements. I like to think I am one of those people who is pretty easy to talk to. However, as it has been pointed out to me in the past, the reality is I am just one of those people who attract the more “colorful” people of the world.

Tommy’s mom is a new mom who I am slowly getting to know. My first encounter with her was at a parent facilitator class I was running. Tommy’s mom had a list of everything she was not happy with, everything she wanted to change, and she wants it changed NOW. During the class, other parents along with myself, had the pleasure of hearing about how her children were out of her custody for a short period of time. Each one of us listened closely as she was talking about a domestic violence situation going on, which led to her childrenbeing taken away.

During my “Parent Facilitator” training sessions, we were not trained on how to deal with this type of parent. How do you calm someone down when she is standing up in the middle of the room yelling F bombs after F bombs? You can’t. Not at least without intervention of a higher up. My partner and I had no one. So we gave her the floor….or she took it.

As the weeks went on, I would try to avoid Tommy’s mom whenever I would see her in the lunchroom or hallways. I could not give her the answers she needed. I was out of my element, I was not trained for this. On occasion, she would find me, and give me a brief 30 minute rundown of what was happening in her life. The only advice I felt I could offer her was “Just concentrate on getting your background check complete for the school. Once you have clearance, we can certainly use you in the PTA.”

I always felt I needed to be very careful with her. I am a volunteer PTA Board member. The only training I  had was an all day class titled PTA and the Law.  For my parent facilitator position, I get paid a very small stipend. It was important to me to make sure I did not cross any lines with her, the school, or my parent facilitator position. I do not officially have a “boss” that can come back me up when things get out of hand. I am treading on thin ice.

Monday morning. During chaos that surrounds the morning routine at the school, Tommy’s mom literally bumps into me. There would be no avoiding her today.

“Oh hey, I am sorry I did not see you there….Guess what?”

Yep. No avoiding her today.

“Hi, how are you?”

And then it happened.

“I am doing great, guess what you are not going to believe this, him and I are back together. We are back together and I know it will work this time. I did not call him for five whole days and he missed me, so then we talked and he promised he would do better and not hit me anymore and he will be out here next week sometime and I am just so happy!”

And that is when I knew. This was my one moment. I had to put aside my fear of not having the “proper training” I knew I had to try to talk to Tommy’s mom, one on one, woman to woman.

“What do you mean you are back with him? The same person who beat you up?”

“Yes, but he has changed. I can hear it in his voice, he has really changed. My boys will be so happy.”

“Where did you get that scratch that’s on your face?”

“That’s just from my cat.”

“It’s interesting how a cat can make such a nice clean scratch that goes from your forehead to your mouth.”

“I just feel so much better about things now, I can’t wait for him to come out here, you should meet him. He feels bad for hitting me before.”

“Listen, if I may speak freely, I am speaking to you as a person, not as a PTA member, not as a parent facilitator.  I need you to know something. Right now things just feel better because this guy has broken you down and rebuilt you the way he wants you to be. This is his way of implementing control over you, I promise you this, if you allow this person back in your life, back into your sons’ life, things will not get better they will get worse. And if he hasn’t already, he will eventually go after your sons, it will start off as emotional abuse and escalate to physical. You and your kids deserve better than that. This is what needs to happen, you need to work on you….again, we can use all the help we can in the PTA. Once your background check clears, come to the school, I will work with you, I will show you how you can take your brokeness and change it into something positive, you will see firsthand how volunteering your time in the school is one of the best gifts you can give to yourself, you may not believe that right now, but I believe the next chapter of your life deserves more than getting the shit beat out of you on a daily basis, and one day you will believe that too.”

I have no idea if my words got through to her or not. We were cut off, morning announcements were starting.

The reality is, I did have training. It may not have been official training, but training for this moment, I had.

I had my experience with domestic violence. I have had experience with the police being called, “rape kits” in the emergency room. I have had the experience of being called a whore, of being told I will never be good enough,  and that right there in this moment that was all the training I needed.

My hope,  one day, years from now, Tommy’s Mom is in a better place, and she will be able to offer the same advice to another woman who feels this is all she deserves.

Today we made some good progress with packing. When I saw “we” I kinda mean Joe. Between you and I, I have no idea how I will get this all done. But…we cannot tell Joe this. He thinks I totally have this.

See, the problem is, I have soooooooo much stuff. I am not one of those people who can just throw a picture, that is hanging in the living room, into a card board box. Nope. I am always taken back to a time when I first bought said picture. Then, somehow the picture (or shirt, candle, piece of paper, whatever it may be) brings up all these happy emotions in me that I can somehow equate with a song. Before you know it I have gotten nowhere on the packing, but I have a pretty bad ass play list ready to go.

A few years back my Dad sent me all of his New York Giants memorabilia that he needed to find a good home for. Naturally, mine was the perfect place. I remember when the pictures came in the mail (already framed mind you) I felt like a child on Christmas morning. It was the best day ever and I took so much joy in displaying my New York Giants memoribilla on the wall. It was a pretty serious ritual with me. My children were occupied, I made myself a drink, threw my headphones on, and while listening to Jethro Tull’s Bungle in the Jungle, I set out to find the absolute perfect place for my New York Giant pictures to be displayed.

I do not remember how old I was when Dad first introduced me to “Bungle in the Jungle.” I lie about my age so much, I do not remember my real age, but I was young. Pre-teen – teenager. Immediately I fell in love with it. It was the opening, you hear a lion (or maybe a tiger) roar, and because I have always loved the wildcats, this was now my new favorite song.

Let’s bungle in the jungle — well, that’s all right by me.
I’m a tiger when I want love,
but I’m a snake if we disagree.

No idea what the actual song is about, but there is a tiger in it, and tigers make me happy, just like the New York Giants memorabilia did many years ago. So…..long story even longer, “Bungle in the Jungle” I equate with being happy. However I was not feeling so happy today when it came time for me to take the memoribillia off the wall. Nope! What I felt like doing was curling up on the sofa and reminiscing.

However because Joe is such a drill sergeant that did not happen.

Now I needed a song to “pump me up!’

Scorpions always do it for me. Usually my go-to would be “Rock You Like a Hurricane”, yet today, going through the emotions of packing up an apartment that I have 12 years history in, I felt like listening to “Rhythm of Love.” The song came out in 1988, most likely around the same time dad introduced me to it.

We were driving. I cannot even remember where we driving to, and he just purchased their new cassette tape. Yes, I said cassette tape and if you have no idea what that is then you are too young to be reading this blog. Dad thre the tape in, told me to listen to their new song, and I was transfixed.

“The rhythm of love
Keeps me dancing on the road
The rhythm of love
Got the groove that hits the bone
The rhythm of love
Is the game I’m looking for
The rhythm of love
Is the heartbeat of my soul”

As the years went on, whenever I needed a good “pump me up” song, “Rhythm of Love” would be one of many. I mean seriously, how good are the Scorpions?!?!?!

I was doing pretty well with the packing until I came across a letter that I had hanging on my wall. This was a letter that my family wrote in 2014. The goal being we would open it up in October 2015. The contents were, each one of us listed our goals and dreams for the next year. This was right before my brother’s first deployment. It was important to me…..because if you have not figured it by now I am quite a sad sap!

Well, through life’s circumstances, we were not able to open it all together in 2015. Not all of us were there, and that was the one rule. We all had to be present to open the letter. Enter October of 2016, here in my apartment, we were all together. On our last night, drinks in hand, emotions filled with the sadness of having to say good-bye in just a few short hours, while being thankful that we had this visit, we all opened the letter. Each one of us read our own entries and Holy Hell I was a complete mess. I will cherish these letters forever. Right before we said our teary good-byes, I hung the letter on my wall. As a reminder, of life, family, and The Bond.

Today, here I was face to face, with this letter. I am not ready, I cannot take it down of my wore torn dining room walls without knowing where I will put it next. Again, my music took me back to a time. Blue Oyster Cult “I’m Burnin’ for You.” I was also introduced by my dad, in a two bedroom (or was it three?) apartment that had the prettiest bay window you had ever seen. We were on the second floor. 1981, and dare I say it may have even been a record. No….in fact I am sure it was a record. Dad brought it out, and my sister and I started singing along.

” Burn out the day
Burn out the night
I can’t see no reason to put up a fight
I’m living for giving the devil his due

And I’m burning, I’m burning, I’m burning for you
I’m burning, I’m burning, I’m burning for you”

Naturally my sister and I messed up the lyrics, but today, thirty plus years later, while I am staring at the letter that is hanging on my wall, I know those lyrics by heart.

Clearly I was not getting anything accomplished. I mean I packed a picture and Joe packed a room. I cannot have him showing me up, so I decided to work on the kitchen. I mean what on earth can I have in there that would bring up memories?

My playlist was now on The Rolling Stones. Much to my dad’s dismay, I only became a fan of theirs a few years back. I grew up listening to him sing all their songs. He went to the concerts, and he tried, he really did try to get my sister and I into them. It just did not work.

Again, fast forward quite a few years, here I am standing in my kitchen, not knowing quite where to begin and The Rolling Stones’ “Play With Fire” comes on.

“But don’t play with me, ’cause you’re playing with fire”

Damn, why did I not give them a chance back in the day. Honestly, I have no idea if my dad even likes “Play With Fire.” Originally a B side song, it was later included on their album “Out of Our Heads” in 1965. So I am going to say Dad at least knows the song.

Now it is time to take my pictures down that occupy my front door. These are not your usual pictures, these are my children’s art work. These pictures have had a safe place on my door for 12 years. I have never moved them.

It was Halloween of 2010. The kids and I set out to make some Halloween crafts. Although I still have the paint stain on my carpet to prove that this indeed happen, the finish product was absolutely imperfectly perfect.

“September When it Comes” is now playing.  The haunting duet between Johnny Cash and his daughter, Roseanne. A song that my dad and I have sung together, yet never do it justice. A song that leaves both of us teary eyed at the end.

“I plan to crawl outside these walls
Close my eyes and see
And fall into the heart and arms
Of those who wait for me
I cannot move a mountain now
I can no longer run
I cannot be who I was then
In a way I never was”

And now, I am pretty much finished. There is no way I can get anymore packing done, at least not tonight.

I will continue to pack up my 12 years of memories that I have in this place, while looking forward to creating more memories in our new place, and in it all, I will cherish my memories of the soundtrack of my life.