Tag Archives: Family

Updates and Stuff

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Things have been crazy for the last few weeks. Quick snapshot – I may elaborate on some of these things later:

  • Mom’s health: still a mystery. Another trip to Mayo, another frustrating round of no answers. She’s on a super antibiotic now (just in case it’s an infection), and she’s made an appointment to see an OB/GYN (just in case it’s a female issue). She’s moody, short-tempered, and not a lot of fun right now. All of which is understandable, given the intense pain she’s been experiencing for nearly six months now.
  • Lauren’s speech: She has a handful of words that are clear and understandable to non-family. It’s an interesting mix of vocab that she’s using now. And some words, we’re not sure where she heard them (like, “b0ob” which is not a word we use in the house but she can use it and point to the appropriate place on her body).
  • Ethan: He’s looking forward to starting school next week. He’s finished with camp – the last week at camp was not a good experience. He had to change locations (all summer he attended camp at his school, which is now being cleaned so it’s not a viable camp location for the last few weeks). This brought about a whole new mix of kids and counselors – including one super mean kid named Pete. First day of camp, I arrived just in time to see Pete THROW Ethan into a steel pole. Ethan’s forehead and cheek hit the pole hard, leaving red marks and bruises for days. Pete’s an older, bigger kid – probably 11 years old, so it’s a little suspicious that he’s playing with the 7 year olds. (I expect it’s because kids his own age would kick his ass since he’s obviously not a nice kid.)
  • Mike: His ashes are finally buried. I didn’t invite his parents – it was just the kids and me (and my mom). We had a few minutes with one of the priests from my alma mater. Ethan struggled a bit with saying goodbye. He had some private time at the gravesite, and from the car, I could see him crying, holding his hands to heaven, and talking (but couldn’t hear the words). He spent about 10 minutes at the site, I sat with him for another 10, then he had another few minutes alone before deciding it was time to go. E seems to be in a good place since then. Hoping he found closure and peace, too.
  • Work: Started a new job yesterday. From agency to corporate to academia – lots of changes, but hoping that THIS is exactly what we all need. I’ll have a lot of flexibility, which I’ve NEVER had. I have a lot of work to do in the next two weeks before classes start, but I’m looking forward to it. I really think this will be the answer we all need.
  • Life insurance: Related to making the new work situation possible, the final life insurance check arrived. Now I just need to find a financial planner to help me sort through what to do with it. It definitely eases the financial hit of this new job, but I also need to be responsible and invest a substantial portion of it. Figuring out the money stuff remains on the to-do list (but now there’s hope that I can actually DO my to-dos!).

 

Taking Off the Golden Handcuffs

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I learned the meaning of “golden handcuffs” today.

I was “walked down” to Human Resources this afternoon to discuss my resignation. It was about time – I submitted it 1.5 weeks ago, but it wasn’t turned over to HR until yesterday… It’s not like they were trying to convince me to stay; we didn’t mention it after the original I Quit conversation. Whatevs. (Sidenote: “Walked down” is employer code for an employee-HR meeting. They are not usually positive experiences.)

HR Chick opened a manila folder and pulled out my resignation email, quickly shutting the folder again. “I just need you to sign this,” she said, handing me a pen. I signed.

She opened the folder and pulled out another piece of paper, quickly closing it again. “This is information about COBRA and insurance. These are all the phone numbers you’ll need after your employment terminates.”

“OK,” I said.

She opened the folder, pulled out another piece of paper and turned it toward me. It was a regular piece of paper, nothing on it, except for a bright pink Post-It with numbers on it. “This is what you owe us for your relocation. If you’d only stayed on for a full year, this would have been reduced by half. But, you didn’t make it to the one year point,” she said.

I looked down at the paper. Two numbers were written with some words:

$5000 signing bonus

$81,657 relo

That’s $86,000. Eighty. Six. Thousand Dollars. Fuck.

I didn’t know what the cost for my relocation from St. Louis totaled. I figured it somewhere between $50,000 to $60,000. I was prepared to pay it back and walk away.

But EIGHTY SIX THOUSAND?!

Damn.

“OK,” I said. “Not sure what you want me to do with that.” I laughed a little, nervously.

“Well, some people just write a check on their last day,” HR Chick answered very nonchalantly.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” I responded. Visions of numbers running through my head.

“What kind of repayment plan were you thinking?” she asked as if this wasn’t an obscene amount of money.

“I’m not sure. I’m just learning the total sum. I would like a break down of that total.”

“I’ll see what I can do about a breakdown and I’ll talk to accounting about options others have used to pay back,” said HR Chick

I was pretty upset when I left the room. But the more I thought about it, this isn’t about the money. If it was, I wouldn’t leave this ridiculously well-paying job. If it was about the money, I’d stick it out to meet the one year point, and have the amount reduced by half. If it was about the money, I wouldn’t leave – I’m not going to make this kind of money anywhere, ever.

I’m leaving this job because my family needs me. And you can’t put a price on that. Screw the golden handcuffs. It’ll get figured out.

On a related note, I officially accepted an offer yesterday night that will provide the level of flexibility with the family that I need. It’ll be a totally different work experience than I’ve ever had, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to try. I just always thought it would be toward the end of my career, not in the middle. Unfortunately, the pay sucks – but it’ll be enough to pay bills and enjoy life a bit, with some adjustments to our lifestyle. It’s also only a one year contract, but has the potential (STRONG potential) to become multi-year contract or even a permanent job next year. I can’t say much yet, but will give details soon. It’s an exciting, and a little scary, change.

The Last Decision

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I heard from the cemetery guy this week. He picked out a “nice” spot, near a new walking bridge, close to the river, on the side of the cemetery closest to campus. “You can walk to Saint Joe’s from there,” he told me. I’m sure it’s a lovely spot.

We even settled on the date to lay Mike’s ashes to rest – August 17.

In my mind, I envision this as a very private moment for the kids and me. Maybe one of the college priests. And my mom, of course. In a way, I just want the closure. Just want it to be done. The bigger a deal is made of this, the harder I think it will be for Ethan, and that won’t be good. And, I really don’t think Mike would have wanted this to be a spectacle.

But…

I’ve thought a lot about if I want to involve Mike’s parents. They ignored me at the showing and the funeral mass. They haven’t reached out to me or the kids (other than sending the kids each very impersonal card for birthdays). There’s no relationship between me and them or them and the kids. Hell, Mike didn’t even like them and made sure I knew it every time I talked to him.

Honestly, his parents were always assholes. There was a deep-rooted, one-way hatred toward my dad. (And my dad was the most laid back, likeable person you could EVER imagine.) It made my dad laugh, when Mike’s dad would start something with him. The laughter and trying to blow off the situation only infuriated Mike’s dad more. Which just continued the cycle of my dad irritating him and laughing. Over and over.

Things didn’t warm up with Mike’s “condition.”  They refused to come to St. Louis when I called them during Mike’s last binge. The blaming that started with the phone call telling me Mike died. The way they acted toward me, the kids and my family at the funeral. The planning of the post-mass lunch against my direct orders to NOT have a lunch.

I’m sure there’s NOTHING harder than losing a child, especially one who refused to get help. One you watched waste away, knowing there was nothing you can do to stop it, to change it. And I can’t imagine talking to my child, then finding him dead in the morning. That has to be the most difficult, awful thing imaginable.

Have I reached out to them? No. We didn’t talk when Mike was alive. They would call his cell phone – not the house phone – to make sure they didn’t have to talk to me. (Sidenote: when I say Mike hated them, this is a good example. He would let their calls go to voicemail every time. He would have to work up the strength to call them because he knew it was such an ordeal to have a conversation with those people. He usually wouldn’t return the call for two or three days, and when he did, Mike was a grouch in the hours before he placed the call and for hours afterward.)

I have no reason to reach out to the former in-laws – I am the mother of their only grandchildren. I am the keeper of the ashes. I hold the cards. And, I don’t have anything nice to say to them.

Still…

The question remains: should they be invited to the, what should I call it?, the ceremony (seems too great for what I’m planning), the event (again, too lofty), the burial (um, maybe). Involving them would only make a difficult day more awkward and painful than it needs to be. Ethan and Lauren really don’t know these people, and involving them would be weird. I don’t know how they would react to being there and part of it, so I can’t prepare the kids for what would be an amazingly dramatic performance, I’m sure.

Besides, after the mass luncheon fiasco, I can’t trust they would honor my request to keep this a very small, private, intimate affair. I imagine they would invite all sorts of random relatives who would like to spend a Friday afternoon at a rural cemetery ignoring me.

On the other hand, is it wrong to NOT notify them? Can I send a letter after the fact with the location of his remains? Am I stooping to their level of asshole-ishness if I don’t “invite” them? Does it matter? What if I sent a nice note with a map to the cemetery afterward?

I have a few weeks to decide what I’m going to do…

Ready to Move on? A Widow’s Thoughts on Dating

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Even though I’ve turned in my notice at work, I’m still putting in a ton of hours. Not as much as before, but a few extra hours at night. Last night was no exception. Laptop fired up, I settled into the couch to draft a meeting recap. The kids and my mom were in bed, and the TV was on as background noise to drowned out the sound of Ethan’s rock tumbler outside. (He’s making me some sort of jewelry for my birthday.)

I was only half listening as the narrator of the TV show introduced the new innovative dating show concept. “Yeah, right,” I thought, “This will be like the scads of other dating shows.” It would be the perfect mindless background to my evening of boring memo writing.

Some blonde chic was introduced. She was a bubbly, 20-something, and all she wanted in life was to be a wife and have babies. A random gal from California was introduced next. No mention of wife and babies, but definitely “looking for love.” I was pretty tuned out at this point.

But the third and final woman made me stop, put down my laptop, and start to tear up. She was in her 30s, had two small kids, and was widowed. She talked about how she was ready to find love again. She also discussed how it was hard to even approach dating as a widowed mom – would people think it was too soon? Would people understand? She wanted to do right by her kids, but she also wanted to find love.

I set my laptop down. I was rooting for this woman to find someone. I could relate. I was having many of those same thoughts and feelings and questions. I wanted her to be happy, screw whatever criticism she would get for wanting to find love.

I’ve thought a lot about what the next chapter of my life might look like. The kind of person I might want to share it with. My situation is different from, but still somewhat similar to, the woman on the dating show – she lost her husband after a three-year battle with cancer; she had time process losing him and at some subconscious level to start thinking about where her life might go.

Mike and I were separated for five months before he died, but our marriage was over long before that. When I think back and really reflect, there were significant problems in our marriage well before I learned he was drinking, which was about a year and a half before I filed for divorce.

A few months after Mike moved in with his parents and I moved to Wisconsin, I started researching online dating services. I had met several people who met their spouses this way, and being new to the area, I thought it might be worthwhile. I filled out the survey for one national service and waited for my computer-selected matches to arrive in my inbox.

It’s probably important to note that I didn’t sign up for the “paid” part of the service. Heck, I wasn’t sure this was even a route I wanted to go, so just “seeing” how it might pan out seemed like a good idea (without the financial commitment, which is kind of steep).

Every week, a group of 10 potential mates was sent to me, and it was a pretty easy choice to hit the decline for all of them. There was the guy just looking JUST to get lucky (wow, was that a descriptive – but very honest – profile!), the guy with the photos of his pick up truck (no photos of him, just his vehicle…um, weird), and the guy with the sketchy, shifty eyes in what looked to be a mug shot (no thanks!).

The choices were so BAD, that I looked forward to getting the email every week just to see what kind of goofy, horrendously bad choices were “matched” with me. I took advantage of the “free” weekends to see what sort of other men were on the site. But then Mike died, and it felt wrong that I even signed up in the first place. I stopped opening the emails and after a few months, the emails stopped coming.

Then, there was a little flirty thing on Facebook with a guy I know from way back when. I was quite excited with our little flirty messages over the course of a few weeks and wondered where it could lead. It felt REALLY good to flirt and to be flirted with. We were even making plans to see each other (he lives in another state). But just like that, he moved on, apparently interested in a recently separated woman who used a very busty boudoir photo as her Facebook profile pic, lived in the next town, and was able to spend every waking moment at his side. (Sidenote: Why don’t people use FB privacy settings?!)  Turns out, dude was much needier than I could have dealt with, and I’ve even wished him luck with this woman.

I’ve kept all of this private – not telling anyone about joining the site or the flirting on FB. I’ve kept it to myself because I don’t know how people will react. If they will judge because it’s too soon or talk about it behind my back about how I’m moving on (before Mike is even, technically, laid to rest). I’m not usually the kind of person who cares about what others think, but on this issue, it’s holding me back.

I don’t have a master plan. I don’t even KNOW anyone locally I would WANT to date (working 80+ hours a week really limits the social calendar…) or even what the “rules” are for dating when you have kids. Heck, Mike and I started dating in college, so I have zero “real world” dating experience. But, I know that I want to find someone to share my life with. I’m ready to move on and anxious find love again.

I’m going to keep watching this random dating show, and I’ll be cheering for the widowed woman to find love. She deserves it. And I think it will help me realize that I can do it, too (just not on a reality show).

How are the Kids? Ethan Edition

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Ethan. My baby boy. My sweet, sweet pumpkin.

He’s struggling. Not necessarily at home, but definitely away from home. Not with us, but with just about everyone else. And by all reports, it’s becoming an issue.

At home, he’s (usually) polite, very helpful, extremely loving. Away from home (by accounts of teachers and others, as well as limited personal observation when he didn’t know I was around), he can be rude and angry, disrespectful and uncompromising. It doesn’t matter if it’s another kid or an adult. It’s not all the time, but he’s just not someone you’d want to be around sometimes.

He’s overly bossy. He gets very angry, occasionally becoming physical. He will argue and yell at anyone, showing no fear or anxiety if he’s sent to the principal or another authority figure. He argues when he perceives someone is cheating – whether it’s a kid taking an “extra” turn or not following the rules.

He doesn’t sit still – that’s something we DO deal with at home. He’s constantly moving, wiggling, unable to remain motionless. Some of that might be “being seven” or it might be more.

Ethan was dealing with issues before Mike died. He was seeing a counselor in St. Louis, before we moved, to deal with the death of my dad (his beloved grandpa) in 2010 and our separation in August.

Ethan saw some very tough things over the last few years. Once I drove home in the middle of the night from a trip because I knew something wasn’t right. I found Ethan sitting up in bed, next to Mike, who was passed out. Ethan told me he was worried his dad would die, so he wanted to be by his side. Ethan was five years old. It was 2 a.m. After slapping him awake, I convinced Mike to go to the ER. He was four times the legal limit.

Stuff like that is hard for a kid (or an adult) to process.

He talks, quite openly, about his dad’s drinking and what happened when Mike drank. He talks about seeing Mike try to hide the liquor in the ceiling tiles or under the couch.He talks about how mean Mike was to me when he drank and how he yelled at me for no reason. Ethan also talks about how he’s the only kid at school without a dad. It all breaks my heart.

School administrators and counselors are worried about him, especially going into second grade. Apparently, second grad is a critical year for kids socially, and Ethan is at risk. His school has been fantastic, really creating an accepting environment and wanting to make sure Ethan is successful, happy, well-developed and well-loved.

Ethan has a really good counselor here. They’ve really bonded. If Ethan is struggling, he’ll tell me that he wants to talk to Mr. Robb.

Ethan’s well-being and happiness definitely played into my recent decision to step away from my career. I can’t be involved, I can’t be a mom, by only spending 15 minutes with the kids each day. I want to be a regular fixture in his classroom. His teacher and I are going to be working closely all year. Ethan is going to get involved in several social and sports activities.

It’s going to take a while. It’ll be a long, hard road (for both of us), but I just KNOW that Ethan will be okay.