Category Archives: We’re Going to be OK

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One year ago today, I left the kids with my mom and moved seven hours north to start a new job. They would join me at Christmas, but until then, it was up to me to prepare a new life in a new state.

When I started job hunting in the summer of 2011, Wisconsin wasn’t on my radar. I had vacationed there when I was very young. As an adult, I had driven through, but I had never BEEN there and I certainly never thought about LIVING there. A head hunter convinced me that it wasn’t too far from Chicago so I should consider the southeast part of the state. Why not, I thought. I didn’t have anything to lose.

When the plane landed in Milwaukee for my first interview, I felt a sudden and overwhelming sense of calm. I was at peace. Everything that was happening with my marriage, all the financial trouble we were in, having to find a job – it all faded away. I felt like I was home… And the plane was still taxi-ing to the runway.

I was picked up from the airport and driven to a trendy hotel on the outskirts of downtown. I couldn’t stop smiling. I looked out the windows with eager anticipation. I wanted to take it all in. Breathe it in. Absorb it. It felt good, this unfamiliar place. It felt RIGHT.

I’ve only had that sense of peace and feeling of home one other time in my life – when I visited the college that would become my alma mater. My dad and I had just driven through the front entrance on our way to admissions when I said, “Dad, this is where I’m going to school.” He thought I was crazy. We weren’t out of the car yet, he said. We haven’t talked to anyone. We don’t even know what programs they offer, let alone financial aid packages…  Yet, every college and university was measured against that school. There was no contest. To this day, as I participate on the college’s alumni board of directors, campus is very comfortable to me.

In the last 365 days, I haven’t regretted the decision to move to Wisconsin. It still feels good; it still feels right. Even after all the drama and sadness of the last 10 months, I’m confident that this is where I’m meant to be right now. Even when I knew the job wasn’t working out and I needed to move on, I never considered leaving.

This is home. We are home.

Last conversation: REVISITED

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So what would I have said to Mike if I knew it was our last conversation? I don’t know…

Would I have reminisced about the old days? When we met in college and started dating? What about his confession of love at the reflecting pond? Remember the corner of my dorm room that I let him decorate with beer signs? Or how about when we moved to St. Louis in the heat of the summer? How about when he proposed in our tiny campus apartment (still my favorite engagement story of all time)? How about our wedding reception at the haunted brewery – and getting locked in the haunted B&B the next morning? Remember what a fun time everyone had, some even calling it the “best wedding ever!”?  Remember how we didn’t even know if we’d have wedding guests, since it was weeks after 9/11 and people weren’t sure if they’d be safe? How we didn’t know if there’d be a honeymoon since it was supposed to start in NYC? What about finding our first house and moving into it – how excited we both were that we could afford a brand-new house? Oh, and what about the home improvement projects (the deck and the “Dr. Seuss shelves” and the tiled backsplash), and how we always joked that Mike was “handy for a lawyer”? Remember when I decided I wanted to be a mom, and how Ethan was born almost EXACTLY nine months later? Remember taking Ethan home the first time and not knowing what to do? How about when he let Ethan slide out of his car seat in my parents’ living room and his panicked “don’t cry, don’t cry!” plea to a tiny baby? Remember why we bought our second house because I said our first house was too small for another baby? And how Lauren was born nine months exactly after we moved into the Highcliff house?

Or maybe I would have just screamed at him, begging for answers. When did the drinking start? Why did it get so bad? Was this the reason he lost his last two jobs? Was he even applying for jobs in the two years he sat in the basement? How many times did he blame OD’ing on his depression meds, but it was really because he was drunk? Why couldn’t he just stop? Didn’t he love us enough? Why did he throw everything away for a bottle of cheap ass vodka? Did he ever drive drunk with Ethan in the car? When did the smoking start? Did he not care that he was putting our lives at risk when he smoked in the basement (and put out the cigarettes on the carpet – which we found after he moved out)? How COULD he trash the basement with his empties, cutting open the couch to hide bottles in the cushions, pushing aside ceiling tiles to hide cans, pulling out insulation in the storage room to store empties between the cement wall and the drywall? Rehab, AA, detox – nothing worked, but why? Couldn’t he stick with a program? Weren’t our kids “enough” for him to get his act together? Wasn’t I “enough”?

Or would I just say goodbye, hold his hand, and watch him go?

Would there have been a message he wanted to share with our kids? Or would he just say good-bye? Would he have even wanted to see the kids? (After all, Mike refused to have Christmas with the kids last year because he “didn’t want the kids to see him like this.”)

I just don’t know what I would have said to him…

Halloween

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Happy Halloween from the cutest Harry P and Hedwig ever! (Thank goodness we trick or treated on Sunday – the weather is cold and windy today!)

Harry and Hedwig, trick or treat!

Musical Flashback: Silly Little Love Songs

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Driving to Target today, the Paul McCartney / Wings song “Silly Little Love Songs” shuffled to the speakers from my iPhone.

It was the song Mike would sing after Lauren was born. I remember him singing it (accompanied by Ethan) to Lauren while I was giving her a bath. Night after night, for months.

They sang it dramatically. They sang it humorously. They sang it seriously. They sang it together to Lauren. It became a nightly ritual.

It was just about the time I realized Mike had a drinking problem. Still, it’s a happy memory because Mike seemed (somewhat) in control. He was still (somewhat) involved with the kids at that point.

The song would make Lauren smile and giggle. It made Ethan happy. It brought a sense of “things will be okay” to me.

Mike stopped singing the song around Christmas 2010. I don’t think I’ve heard it since.

I listened to it today, and it made me feel nostalgic. I didn’t cry but felt a sense of peace. Someday I will play the song for Ethan and ask if he remembers. Someday I will play it for Lauren and tell her that her daddy used to sing it to her when she was a baby. I hope they remember.

Sleeping on a submarine

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I spent Friday night sleeping with 40 men and boys.

That sounds much more risqué than it was – it was a Cub Scout overnight in a WWII submarine. A couple dozen boys and their DADS… I was the only mom.

When Ethan learned I signed us up for this adventure, he said, “You’re going to hate this – I bet the sub will smell like MEN!” Observant boy…

I’m a bit particular. Some may even say high maintenance. I’m pretty picky about the hotels I’ll stay at and I knew a submarine wouldn’t live up to my usual overnighting standards. But this wasn’t about me. It was about Ethan, and I knew he really wanted to go. I didn’t make a big deal out of it.

It was a unique opportunity (and, of course, completely amenity-less). Some observations and learnings:

  • There’s a weird assortment of things missing from our move earlier this year. Things we can’t find: my favorite cocktail shaker, our sleeping bags (which we’ve previously used for “camp outs” in the back yard), my muffin tin, a small purple duffel bag. Strange things is, that this stuff was in different places in the old house, so how it all ended up missing is a mystery. So, Ethan and I had to buy new sleeping bags for this adventure. It’s probably not a bad thing to have Ethan in a “big boy” sleeping bag (instead of the “Cars” one that is now MIA).
  • The sleeping arrangements were surreal. Forty beds in a tiny room, smaller than my living room. Bunks three high. Single bunks on either wall, double bunks (like two twins) in the center. Ethan and I slept side-by-side on the top double bunk. I was terrified all night that he’d roll off and fall the six feet to the hard, steel floor. But the middle bunk didn’t have enough room to sit up and the bottom bunk did not allow enough room to even roll over. Plus, I got my hair stuck in the bed springs of the middle bunk when I was checking out the space. I had to scalp myself to break free. (Of course, I was hysterically laughing at my predicament, thinking that only *I* could get my hair stuck in the beds on a submarine…)
  • Speaking of the sleeping arrangements, I had one dad’s feet nearly touching my pillow (uncomfortable), and another dad (who’s like 6’10”) was sleeping on the bunk on the other side – he really tried hard to keep his legs and feet on his bed. He slept diagonally to keep his legs on his bed and not intrude on my space.
  • Dads apparently don’t “hear” kid noise. Imagine dozens of 7- and 8- year old boys running around, “playing” submarine at 10 p.m. The noise was ridiculous – and the dads were standing around talking to each other or looking at their smart phones. Ethan wasn’t even the loudest or most aggressive or craziest kid there (thank goodness!). The noise level would NOT have been tolerated (or probably even attempted) if moms were there.
  • Imagine the “lights out” call and three boys continuing to SCREAM for five minutes, then 10 minutes… I had ear plugs in – I could have slept through, but Ethan wasn’t going to go to sleep as long as something was going on, so I called it. “Boys! Lights out! Any questions about what that means? Shut it and go to sleep!” Several dads snickered, but none chimed in to encourage bedtime. Luckily, the boys obeyed.
  • Lights out at 11:30 p.m. is WAY too late for boys who are used to 8 p.m. bedtimes (as confirmed from conversations with moms). Boys were breaking down before the activities even started at 7:30. A handful of boys were reduced to tears for a variety to reasons including not understanding the fire drill instructions and lost stuffed animals.
  • It was crazy hot inside the sub. Outside was around 30 degrees, but inside (on the top bunk) was around 85 degrees. I was a hot, sweaty mess in the morning – and I never even got under the sleeping bag covers.
  • Ear plugs are crucial when sleeping around men and boys. Imagine the snoring and grunts and other weird nighttime noises coming from dozens of snoozing bodies.
  • Being the only mom on the trip meant that the women’s restroom was extremely clean, so that was an awesome positive.
  • TMI observation (you might want to skip to the next bullet. You’ve been warned): nothing made the night more uncomfortable than being on my period. Yep, an overnight trip with men and boys, and I was bleeding heavily, like I had been shot in the vagina. Just one more thing to think about all night (“Please don’t let me bleed all over myself, my yoga pants, my bedding and the pleather-esque mattress and have to explain to young boys why there’s blood everywhere!”) Luckily, everything was okay. Whew!
  • Finally, I have complete and total admiration for the men who served aboard subs. The space is incredibly tight and it’s hot and stuffy. Men would spend months on subs like these in the hot, steamy Pacific. I can’t imagine… but I am entirely thankful for their sacrifice.