Really?

A good many of my friends, at times it even seems like it amounts to the majority of my friends are democrats. I like them, they are my friends, and nearly all of them believe me to be a democrat also - though I am a republican, granted, I am known in one circle of extremely active democrats as "the most liberal republican (insert name of passionate active democrat here) ever knew" - aka mlrmpek. This is mostly due to a strange phenomenon, I am unbelievably -- really unbelievably diplomatic about politics, [those who know me well, know that I am seldom diplomatic about ANYTHING] and also because I truly am not really either party on many issues - I am pro gun-control (limited); I am pro-choice; I am for limited government involvement and opposed to social programs (mostly); I am supportive of a strong military; and here's a kicker I don't share with friends much, I am pro-capital punishment. I find however that it's quite easy to share my opinions and even when it's about something where I support the opposite viewpoint of my friend, we can have a nice pleasant conversation, frequently without them ever suspecting that my voter registration reads the same as their "obnoxious right-wing bible thumping neighbor".

Alas, the point of this post is not actually to expose my politics so much as it is to wonder, how can I fit in so well among my legions of "liberal" friends and yet when it comes to the simplest thing, like my friends kid just had a super ugly baby -- I have trouble not betraying my true opinion? [in fact, I said something along the lines of "bet you are glad the wait is over"] But I also question, have I ever unwittingly, amongst a group of "conservatives" where I felt comfortable being more passionately open about oh say 'captial punishment' made my "liberal" counterpart feel as though they have managed to conceal their true political identity? -- well that's a digression... back to my point, my 'total' lack of diplomacy.

I was in fact amongst a group of liberals for drinks over the weekend, and as is the usual with folks our age, politics did become part of the discussion - my two friends among the group who know my true political identity shared knowing looks with me and one even patted my leg at one point when she thought I might be feeling a bit overwhelmed with the passion - a sweet gesture moosema - thanks! Strangely, later in the night I blurted out one of my famously non-diplomatic remarks, like 'well she's always been a bitch why would that change' or some other type remark, and they all said "I love how momumo is so blunt, you can always count on her for truth" -- and I am always truthful (unless absolutely prevented by decorum, if point blank asked if I think that the new baby is cute, I will probably be forced to lie - I mean you really can't say something like "wow are you sure that one's done cooking?").

How do I find it so easy to be a diplomat with politics and so unnecessary and near impossible in every other situation?

Parenting Teenagers

hahahaha! If anyone ever presumes to tell you they have the answers to raising teenagers, run before they ask you to drink the koolaid! My darlings have all cost us just about $200 for some random bunch of crap

- Friday night the boy texts me, yes re-read that TEXTS ME "I split my chin open on the gym floor and the trainer thinks I should get stitches" -- ps. he wasn't participating in the sport, he was a fan at the basketball game -- and I was drinking at the casino with hubby - 1. he CHOSE to slide across the gym floor toward a dog pile of kids (with his new Tommy John elbow that is NOT fully recovered, ugh) 2. he texted me, not a call, a freaking text message 3. when I called him to find out the details he asked if he could wait until after the game to go get stitches in his THREE INCH laceration (is actually just over 1 inch, I really was picturing his lip flopping around as if he had gauged it when he said 3 inches) -- So, I informed him (not without a little bit of guilt) that he is 18, has his own insurance card and can drive himself to the ER for stitches (then I called his older sister to meet him there)

- Sunday night, after driving to Wyoming and back, daughter asks at 10:00pm if she can drive back to Wyoming to see boyfriend, we actually allowed this against our better judgment because when we were nineteen, we would have wanted to do it too and would probably have figured out how to get it done. Yeah, so today, she lets us know that she will be later than expected getting home because she got a speeding ticket - for quite a damn bit over the speed limit, needless to say, not happy

- This afternoon, youngest daughter goes to new eye doctor and gets and extended eye appointment because her old contacts (that she wore for TWO years) never did work right, but she didn't want to tell us that because we would make her wear her glasses

Going to post an ad on Gypsy-bay.com that they are all for sale, no returns, ugh

To make the day better, the younger two did not do at all what I asked them to do around the house today and then tried to sell that I underestimated the time required to complete those chores. Really 3.5 hours in the kitchen and it's still not clean -- um yeah, I could practically fuckin remodel the kitchen in 3.5 hours -- and 2 hours cleaning ONE shower and well apparently doing something in the living room, but all I could tell was the mail was on my desk and she moved a small pile of stuff off of a christmas box onto my desk chair -- oh and the job on the shower, the dog coulda licked it cleaner. SO PISSED.

Anyhow, tomorrow is supposed to be baking day, should be glorious I'm sure.

OOOps underestimated the nosiness of oldest daughter

As many of you (all two of you) know, my family is unaware of this blog - so today, one aunt contacted oldest daughter via facebook asking for another aunts address -- the fastest way I could think of to retrieve it was to give her my thumb drive from my old laptop files and tell her to look for it among the documents on there. Well also stored on that thumb drive are some of my posts from this blog -- she is thoroughly enthralled with and enjoying my 'dirtiest stories ever' document, which contains all of those stories as posted here so long ago. Maybe I should have given it a more boring title, I can see how running across 'dirtiest stories ever' would make a 19 year old, or really any aged person, rather curious.

As for the rest of my life, it just feels like it's on hold. No news on mom, not a lot going on with anything else, probably going to try to start some holiday shopping today. Need a great 'small' gift idea for the dh -- he got a new high def flat screen blah blah whatever television earlier this year and has made it clear that it was his father's day/birthday/christmas gift all in one, but I am not gonna sit here and hand him a package of underwear on Christmas morning while the rest of us tear into fun and exciting gifts - besides, he also said he's good on undies this year and doesn't need those either, lol. I feel a little behind the gun on this one gift, would love to have a great idea pop into my head maybe having written it down will motivate the universe to manifest that for me.

Happy Friday -- I'm off to finish cleaning the toilet and shower, oh joy.

Happy Holidays

Yes, Happy Holidays - not because it's politically correct, read a few of my posts, I could give a shit about pc-ness - because we celebrate more than one holiday in our home, we have friends who celebrate different holidays and for YEARS, yes YEARS, I have chosen to wish people Happy Holidays, or actually to be more exact, I usually tell people to "Have a Great Holiday".

I am never offended by being wished Happy Hannukah or Merry Christmas, the person making the wish means to give me a word of cheer. Wouldn't it be wonderful if people meant to give words of cheer more often? No one wishes you a cheerful day and means to insult you, sure you may not celebrate that day, but actually, for those who don't celebrate anything, are we insulting them by wishing them a happy anything? You never hear them complaining (about that... yet).

The intention is to be cheerful and kind, and so, those people who are having a fit about people taking the Christ out of Christmas, they need to think again - that may not be anyone's intention at all. And if they are such devoted Christians, then kindness to others should be much higher on their list and prevent them from being so insulting and rude and judgmental. I'm sure a good many of them haven't even thought of it this way, they are concerned about the twice a year Christians, or those who don't even worship watering down what is to them a religious observance first and a gift giving egg nog drinking party second (or they want to pretend that it is), and they have a right within their own family and home to make sure that the religious observance comes first - they do not have a right to make others feel dirty for trying to be kind to all, including Christians and non Christians who are also celebrating a holiday, and in the case of Hannukah, a religious observance that is thousands of years old and is much more about the celebration of faith than gifts and food (although Latkes are probably as much looked forward to or more than many favorite Christmas treats in our home).

What? MOMUMO has a blog? Serendipity

Well, not that I think anyone is actually still reading this, but maybe I'm still on someone's feed and they'll discover I've actually posted something. I was reminded this morning that I do have a blog, a friend put a line in his own blog, something along the lines of "wanting to get away from limiting all my online communication to facebook" - yes evil facebook has taken me from this wonderful, fairly anonymous outlet. But... the timing for re-discovery couldn't be better, could really use this outlet right now, and the freedom that it gives me to express myself.

Since we last spoke... oh seriously, that would be too much like a freaking holiday letter, ugh! (which I should really think about writing, haven't written one for years and every year I hear how people miss it)

So, aside from catching up with old friends on Facebook, losing my job (because of the economy... and of course the completely inept woman who threw me and my co-worker under the bus to save her own position, which she ended up losing due to her incompetence), having my oldest daughter away at college, Tommy John surgery for my baseball pitcher son (yes this is his Sr. year, and no he won't be pitching this spring, baseball folks - it is like you imagine) getting two new puppies to replace my dear old friend that we lost this past spring, and of course all the mom stuff that goes with two teenagers in high school, I've pretty much evolved into this strange woman that I don't always know.

I still stay very busy with all my volunteer stuff, and I still try to run my house, but I've never been a super duper Donna Reed about that - in fact as I type this there is a sink full of dishes and a washing machine full of wet towels from yesterday not to mention dog hair EVERYWHERE, I actually found a dog hair in a coffee cup that I was pulling out of the dishwasher that had just finished running! [note to self: remember last week when you said you were going to vacuum more than once a week?].

So why such serendipity at re-discovering my blog, well I'll tell you, for the next while this blog may be more about dealing with the frailty of my parents then about me or my kid stuff... weird huh?

My parents suddenly became old on me a few years ago, I've sort of pulled an ostrich act about the whole thing, refusing to entirely accept that they can't just jump in a raft and float through some white water rapids with me any old time I please. My mom had a bypass surgery, 5 grafts, 4+ years ago, it pretty much sucked. She had a stroke (or maybe several) during surgery/recovery - the doctors always say it happened during the procedure, but we are pretty certain it happened during recovery. Anyhow, strokes really suck, if you haven't experienced someone close who has gone through it, I don't have a good analogy, so just read on and maybe it will become apparent. Strokes suck for many reasons, but the one that has probably sucked the most for ME (yes me, this is my blog, not my mom's) is that they affect personality. My mom is still in there, and she makes appearances fairly frequently, but there are days when the woman that lives inside of my mom's body is a stranger to me, and she's mean, and she's not very funny, and frankly, I don't like her very much because I like my mom, and she's an intruder. You know that mouthy Uncle that comes to family dinners, either uninvited, or invited because it's a fucking holiday and you're obligated? -- and he hogs the whole conversation with shit that is super boring and he bitches about everything and he goes on and on and on about himself (yes, I recognize the irony) - well apparently his doppleganger has somehow body-snatched my mom. Also, the woman who freely let her daughters (and possibly my brothers to some degree) know that there were things about dad that she didn't always like that much, but she loved him and couldn't imagine a life without him, seems to have left the building altogether when it comes to Dad. He's a freaking saint, I have not heard her say a tender loving word to him in over 4 years, and he still just does whatever she asks and cares for her as best as he can. They are that generation where she cared for him and he never much had to make those decisions, he's not as helpless as some of his peers, he can cook, he can keep house (his way), he can shop, etc. Laundry mystifies him a bit, and deciding on stuff like what to shop for or what doctor to go to, those are out of his league, but it's okay she still manages to do that. I never saw my father as a saint like that before, of course I loved him, and all that daddy/daughter stuff, and he was fun, took us camping and to parades and to the rodeo and concerts and the symphony and out to eat -- my dad is awesome about eating out, never bats an eye if my mother wants to eat out and loves taking any of us to lunch, breakfast, brunch whatever. We were really quite spoiled, which I never knew and totally took for granted - I doubt anyone else did as many things and with as great a variety as we did -- seriously everything from the Ballet to the Demolition Derby, and breakfast at a hole in the wall to gourmet dinners at the new trendy Haute Cuisine hot spot (on a side note, with a couple of exceptions, the Haute Cuisine hot spots seldom became favorites, the hole in the wall dumps almost always did!)

So Mom, my mom, who I love dearly and who has ALWAYS been in total denial about any health issue -- not just that whole, "I'm the mom I don't have time to be sick" but total and complete denial that she disguised as a combination between "I don't have time" and "I like to take a more holistic, homeopathic approach to things" - ps. I really do believe in homeopathy and you can not be homeopathic and not holistic also. Alas, my mother for some strange reason that has never been identified, is terrified of clergy, and apparently all western medicine doctors fall into that category as well. She doesn't trust them, will not follow their treatement protocols, and hates anything that has Rx on the label. So of course this is all oh so compatible with recovery from Bypass surgery, stroke and the deteriorating kidney function that accompanies high blood pressure and bypass surgery.

*** side note (and still no expert here) - deteriorating kidney function accompanies almost every other health problem and treating it is bad for everything else and treating everything else is bad for the kidneys ***

Alas, fast forward to last Monday, oh did I mention she also refuses to believe that smoking has anything to do with anything and hasn't quit. She didn't sleep all night Monday night because of "Angina" - which Tuesday morning she told me was her hiatal hernia and that she was on her way to the chiropractor to have an adjustment. She knew it was angina and was just doing the whole ostrich thing. It continued to bother her all the rest of the day Tuesday and somehow through some grace of the Universe my brother was able to talk her into seeing her doctor - they of course sent her to the hospital in an ambulance and then proceeded over the next 5 days to reveal that she had a heart attack, her bypassed vessels were mostly occluded, two completely closed, two partially closed and one that was fairly open, severe kidney disfunction, and an abdominal aortic aneurysm. They also determined that her meds that she was on (not that she was following instructions anyhow) were all messed up and should not have been being given in conjunction with each other,etc. Oh and, with all those occluded vessels around the heart, the blood isn't getting nearly enough oxygen and so she needs additional oxygen - which she refuses to use. So they sent her home to "heal" before they address the kidneys and the aneurysm - with oxygen and all these new pills. She claims one minute to be doing exactly what they say and the next she claims she doesn't need oxygen at all she's fine.

Wow... my husband said to me the other day that as I get older I add more and more detail to my stories and it isn't necessary -- hmmmmm....

So the point of my post, maybe, is this... One of the doctors pretty much told her she needs to make the decision to live or die, and if she makes the decision to live, it may result in a long, miserable, painful, slow, death - and if she decides to just wait for the aneurysm or another heart attack to kill her it would be quick and painless (remind me to send him a cheery note - fucker!). I AM NOT READY FOR THAT TO HAPPEN - does my logic brain say, wow, I could see her choosing the quick painless route, you betcha. I have three children and some nieces and nephews who really truly need her, I can't even begin to describe how much some of them NEED her,and I can't imagine telling them "she chose this". I am vascillating between pissed at the Universe, pissed at her, depressed, feeling amazingly selfish, and nevermind all that I'm gonna stay upbeat and flood this situation with prayer and positive energy and get the outcome that I desire.

I plan to vent here a lot, it could get rather boring, like that asshole uncle at thanksgiving dinner - or it could be filled with bizarre and interesting facts about how a huge family deals with a crazy matriarch who won't conform, time will tell.

holy baloney more than a month...

I have been a lousy blogger of late, I apologize to anyone who cared (all three of you?). I found Facebook, at first when the kids were pestering me to get a facebook I said, 'nah, that's weird for a mom' then I started hearing of these other moms who have them -- so I relented. On Facebook, I have been able to be in touch with many of my friends from overseas -- so that is most exciting and wonderful, as I am a lousy correspondent with regular mail - add that to the list of things I don't do as well as I would like. Also, I have a new boss, I'm sure I mentioned that before -- and well honestly, she's requiring a much longer period of adjustment than I had expected (damn expectations, they are never based in reality) -- and that is taking up a lot of my time. Also, she works in the office damn near every day, which cuts into my usual - 'hey I think I'll take a break and go blog' time.

So my world is a new and confusing place in which I am trying to maintain a little normalcy -- which is pretty much just amounting to an occasional beer or manhattan in the evening and still watching my secret soap opera on Monday's while I work from home.

Be assured I am also still continuously amused with myself, more frequently than might be considered fully healthy, and yet no one has had me committed to a facility yet.

Today's amusement:

a little late...

I've been tagged by Baseballmom for a new meme...answer the following questions using the first letter of your name-try to use a different answer if the person before you has the same initial. It's harder than it looks!
What's your first name? Amy
A four letter word- ass (assbag, asshole, asswipe, ass-for-brains, etc) – I realize that ass only has three letters, and the rest have more than four – so if you were looking for literally a four lettered word – well then ‘amen’
Boy name? Ass
Your occupation? Accounting
A color? Ass? – that’s probably not a color, um auburn
Something you wear? Ascot
A place? Albuquerque
Something found in a bathroom? Ass (duh)
A reason for being late? Ass (getting some)
Something you shout? Assbag!
A food? Almonds

I'm tagging moosema, neveradullmoment, and anyone else that is looking for a post.

Yes I am that kind of helicopter mom...

I know I say plenty of derogatory things about helicopter parents... and, having worked with them as volunteer and in the classroom and as another parent, basically -- they need to let loose a little. However, and maybe I am just being too hard on myself and this isn't helicoptering -- if any of you watched Desperate Housewives (spoiler ahead) this week, you saw Lynette starting an account on a social networking site to get her son to talk to her. She was deceptive about it, and that is never a good idea. I am also a snoop, and I also have a social networking site account - for the mere purpose of snooping on my kids -- here is the difference, they know it's me. They know they a. have to provide me with their passwords to myspace, facebook, email, whatever I ask and b. they had better approve me as friend so that I can see what they are posting. I have asked more than once that one of them change something because I don't think it is appropriate to everyone who might be viewing their profile. Yesterday in fact, I went into my son's facebook and changed his "status" myself because I was unhappy that he had used an expletive in it. As you all know, I am potty mouth number one, and I don't really care if my kids use expletives, depending on venue, audience, and circumstance. The thing is, you cannot always control venue, audience and circumstance of the viewers of your facebook. (Along with that, I pay for their cell phones so they know that they have to hand them over randomly and on demand for me to peruse their text messages... could they just delete anything that comes in that I would find objectionable, you bet... I'm banking that if I am random and unpredictable enough they will be too comfortable and I will find that rare item...) even more, I'm banking that they know I may look, so they will watch what they are presenting to the world, which is in fact the goal. None of us parents can sit back and say we never thought things like so and so is a f-ing bitch, or fuck the team that I don't root for, or damn that was fun doing that really outrageous rude thing last night, we just didn't publish it. My mom always said "if you don't want it on the cover of the Rocky Mountain News, don't write it down!" -- I think that advice applies well to texts and IMs and social NW sites. I also think that you don't have to deceive your kids to engage them in conversation and responsible action. So I helicopter -- but I kind of swoop in and helicopter and then swoop out again.

So after having changed my son's status from "F the other team" to "in trouble with his mom" yesterday -- I was curious this morning, as to what he might have done with it last night. He put up some other insult to the other team again, this time in much more appropriate language and I left it... but what I found out was... he is friends with a girl who my daughters know outside of school, sports, etc. A girl he has maybe met and doesn't remember, and has no reason that I can think of for being friends. She is graduated from high school, though she attended the same school as his girlfriend, and she is not involved with his work or any of his activities. On Facebook, you can click on someone and see "friends in common" -- so I fully expected to see his sister or his girlfriend, because there is no other reason for him to know this girl exists -- she is not friends with either of them. I have a mystery to inquire about today, and I can't wait.

you ever open your big fat ass mouth and...

(I will get back to the family saga... I just really needed a break before the next one)

... state that you are going to "post that on my blog"

GEEK SCHOOL

That one reader out there that knows where my kids attend school will probably confirm that it is in fact a geek school... for the rest of you, I could completely make shit up to convince you... but I don't have to!

The school won a math award, a rather prestigious math award... and so... the school motto for games and stuff is "Mean and Green" -- well since 'mean' is also a math term... and can be communicated in writing (as a formula) and green can be communicated in writing as a gamma wave... they have t-shirts that say in math/science speak "Mean and Green" -- tell me that's not geeky!! (ps - I own and wear mine proudly)

also... they were featured on a South Park, okay featured is an exaggeration, but they were on SP -- the SP kids came to Denver to play basketball against our school and the kids from our school were on the court with their TI-87(or whatever designation) calculators calculating their shots, lol. I actually haven't seen the episode, only heard about it -- I have tried looking for it and cannot find it, if anyone knows which episode I would love to know at least what season it was.

Many of the students also post this on their myspace... (it changes some each year, and I am not posting the complete list)

You know you go to (Insert name of Geek School here)

Your definition of having a social life is hanging out with your friends to have a study group

You don't have a social life in the summer either

You regularly stay up till 2 or 3 in the morning and then get up at 5:30 and call it a good night's sleep

If you have a B average you are in the lower quarter of your class and consider yourself to be the stupidest person alive

The "bad kids" are the ones who ditch activity period a couple times

The coolest kids have straight A's and are in mathletes

If you're not at least one year ahead in math you are a loser

The senior pranks always suck because the administration has no sense of humor

You drink 2 or 3 coffees a day and finish it off with a red bull

If the teacher doesn't teach you anything you actually get angry and demand to be transferred to a different teacher...and of course no one listens to you

Every single person in the school has either a TI-83 or a TI-84 calculator (well duh! there all in algebra by at least 8th grade, and then you're on the stupider end)

If you get a C you start to worry that the only college that will accept you is community college... and even then it's a stretch

The senior privilege that you look forward to the most is being able to cut in the lunch line (o baby! I've been waiting for that since I was a sevie!)

You're a slave to P-E-A.

You know just how many problems are on a problem set sheet.

You dreaded going to the library because of the half hour lecture explaining
How to use Gale and EBSCO. Every. Damn. Time.

The cast of the musical included several football players.

You won any sort of sportsmanship award.

You know what goes in and what goes out... (Say it!)...WATER WATER!!!!

You took Photo just to be able to screw around.

You know exactly why fysics is phun.

Any of your teachers joked about sending you across the street for
Detention.

You're certain your ACT scores will be the best in the state. Again.

Another semester means your term paper is 500 words longer.

You've rebelled by getting something from the vending machine between the
hours of 7:30 am and 2:30 pm.

You learned someone else's student ID to see their grades.

You sing along to twinkle, twinkle little star, voltage equals I times R.

You loathe any form of standardized testing.

You actually went to after prom.

You had to get your planner signed to go to the freaking bathroom.

You ever came straight from football practice to marching band practice.

Instead of taking all art classes your senior year like "normal high school students" you continue to take every AP class possible, and throw in some classes given by UCD just to be sure you have plenty of college credit, before you actually go to college.

The only reason you dressed up for pirate day was so you could wear a bandana and ripped clothing.

I love geek school -- my daughter who is now in College took what I thought was going to be a brutal schedule for a freshman, she is bored to tears, is always done with exams and homework way before her friends, and has too much time on her hands... I'm proposing she double her credit hours next semester, save me some money on something by finishing early!

a quick meme...

to break up the family saga

TYPE ONLY 1 WORD. IT’S HARDER THAN YOU THINK!!!
1. Where is your cell phone? desk
2. Your significant other? R
3. Your hair? cut
4. Your mother? amazing
5. Your father? amazing
6. Your favorite thing? peace
7. Your dream last night? weird
8. Your favorite drink? bourbon
9. Your dream/goal? happiness
10. The room you’re in? living
11. Your fear? heartache
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? here
13. Where were you last night? here
14. What you’re not? diplomatic
15. Muffins? lemom
16. One of your wish list items? tickets
17. Where you grew up? colorado
18. The last thing you did? puzzle
19. What are you wearing? pajamas
20. Your TV? big
21. Your pet? skinny
22. Your computer? old
23. Your life? pleasant
24. Your mood? mellow
25. Missing someone? yes
26. Your car? lincoln
27.) Something your not wearing: shoes
28. Favorite Store? Kohl’s
29. Your summer? short
30. Your favorite color? pink
31. When is the last time you laughed? today
32. Last time you cried? saturday
33. Who will/would re-post this? moosema
34. Four places I go over and over? Work, home, store, temple
35. Four of my favorite foods? Eggs, lasagne, roast, gravy
36. Four places I would rather be right now? Lodge, europe, alaska, moutains


amazing how many of my actual answers are more than one word

L

L –

This one is going to be harder. I know that my sisters are both going to be harder to write about. There is a fondness for your brothers that you can never feel for your sisters, at least for us three girls. I know they feel it too, it’s just different, some sort of ‘they-could-blow-up-puppies’ and it would somehow be forgiveable, but with your sisters there is a bond that comes from sharing the deepest secrets, your innermost fears and anticipations, your embarrassments, you can brag about your accomplishments – big and small – no humility or dignity required at all. Sisters could probably blow up puppies too – but the difference would be that you would have known before they did it that they were contemplating it, and why – and for some unG-dly reason, you would have found a way to support that (or you would be the one person on the Earth who could convince them to do something different). My oldest sister is eleven years older than I am. That’s a lot when you are young, she was feeling teen angst while I was still peeing the bed – the bed we shared. Our great grand-father lived with us when I was a baby/toddler – he died when I was three. He had the master bedroom, my parents had another bedroom, then we girls had a room and the boys had a room. After he died, my parents moved into the master bedroom and we girls split the two upstairs rooms and the boys continued on with the one room downstairs. Anyhow, we shared a room for a few years, and she was a tween (not a term in the sixties) and I was tiny baby. She adored me – or so she reminds me, more frequently than I think is necessary. I had a heart on the end of my nose and she loves to tell me about it. She was a regular wanna be flower child, she loved all the hippy stuff, but she also loved good hygiene – my mom says she was the cleanest hippy on the hill. She has a magical way of attracting all of the most unique people, all of her friends for her entire life have been the most interesting people in the room. She is the most generous soul you could ever hope to meet. For her gift giving is an art, and it feeds her soul. She is not complete when she is unable to select what she feels (and is almost always right) is the perfect gift. She is also hands down the most loyal person in the family. I think I’ve made it clear that we are all very loyal to each other and would support anything – but she is more loyal than that somehow. I can’t put into words her loyalty, but you dare not utter a syllable that could even be interpreted as against one of us – she will exact a vengeance, and she will make it clear to all who are witness that you do not mess with her family. She is also the most vengeful – I don’t remember her being as vengeful when we were kids, but she spent 17 years in Boston, and she picked up some character traits there that are as ingrained in her as anything she learned at home. She too, like Markie, loves completely and utterly and with a deeper passion than many people ever know – but rarely, very rarely. She has had two true loves in her life – she married neither. She never had children, but she has always made it very clear that it is her goal to be favorite auntie – and she has spent many hours finding just the right way to express her special love and loyalty for her many nieces and nephews. She is very careful what she lets people see of her inner self, very guarded. I would say that only one person outside of family really knows her at all – and it’s not the man she did marry. She did love her husband, and they had a good life for awhile, but he had addiction problems (he was recovered when they met and married, but eventually replaced drugs with gambling and eating) and that can tear a marriage apart. It doesn’t help that she also has a drinking problem – she wasn’t what I would call an alcoholic then, though she probably is now. She has always suffered from Alcohol Induced Psychosis however. I don’t want to give a long description of this – just to say my grandmother and my sister both have it – and it’s so unfair that my mother has had to suffer through the behaviour again and again all of her life. Drunks are ugly, but they eventually pass out or something. Psychotic drunks are far uglier, and they never pass out – they can go and go for days and days like some sort of demented energizer bunny. I don’t want to focus on that though, but I want to give a complete picture – so there it is, one of the ugly skeletons in the family closet. My sister is so much more than her drinking. She is one of the most beautiful women you could ever meet – she turns heads from nine to ninety. At one time, while she was living on the East coast, she was doing makeup for a Marilyn Monroe review and she looked so much more like Marilyn than the stars it was uncanny. She did herself all up in her Marilyn look and flew home. My dad said that walking through the airport men were actually stumbling and falling as she walked by. Mom always says that yes, she’s as beautiful as Marilyn when she does Marilyn, but she’s so much more beautiful than Marilyn when she doesn’t do Marilyn. She’s not just physically beautiful though, her soul is tremendous. Generous, loving, loyal – she exudes an excitement for happy things that catches anyone and everyone in it’s wake – you can’t help but get excited too – it can be Mom’s cooking, decorating the house for a holiday, a kids kindergarten recital, a rose blooming in the garden, a vacation, a baby, any happy occasion and she will involve and excite all who come near. She always wants to make everything bigger and better – if the neighbors had a piñata – she will have two piñatas and they will be stuffed with better bigger candy. If the last wedding had a well known band, she will have a better known band, and they will play all night. She’s also the queen of getting what she wants – it doesn’t matter how absurd it seems, she will find someone who can get it for her – but, it’s usually not for her, it’s usually for her to give as a gift to someone she loves. Oh and artistic, she is amazing – hair, makeup, decorating, clothing, ideas – always new and eccentric and people just ooh and ah. She also has an uncanny knack for impressions – she does so many so well – we laugh and laugh. I have so many funny stories, I can’t seem to choose one to share. So her artistic side, and her ‘hey-I’m-so-excited-side’ took over on a fishing trip one time. She packed a “fishing outfit”. It won’t sound quite so strange in 2008 as it did in 1985ish – keep in mind… she has always been ahead of her time. It was part glamour, part hippy – like pretty much everything she wears – it was like a collage of blue cotton rags, all hanging here and there on this shirt and Capri pants – she really looked like shredded blue burlap from a distance – and a turban of the same material…so this turban had shreds of fabric hanging here and there too. Her makeup was flawless – her hair just jutting out of this turban thing here and there, and she headed for the dock to drop a line in the water. She was clearly out to entertain my mother’s friends – as she had been bloody-worm-gut-your-own-fish fishing many times when we were growing up – but it had been awhile since she had fished. She headed down to the dock with her Boston accent and said to my mother – or perhaps no one in particular – “I’m here to fish darling, how do you like my outfit?” – my mother laughed at her and said, all those rags will come in handy for wiping up worm guts. She proceeded to cast her line out into the water, catch a fish right off and as she was reeling it in to the dock another of the seasoned fisher-women on the dock (also a very glamorous woman actually, but could dress down and be her raised in South Dakota regular gal when in the right company and venue) said to give it a tug to set the hook – so my sister yanks her rod and reel hard and the fish flies outta the water up over her head across the roof of the boathouse and down the otherside where I am sitting quietly fishing and reading a book – amidst quite a cacophony of squeals and drama from my excited sister – “I caught one, I caught one, I just put my line in and I caught one” – laughing and squealing. We never heard the end of the “lucky fishing outfit”.

Bart

Markie –

My brothers and sisters brought home lots of strays over the years – hell so did mom and dad for that matter – mostly dogs, occasionally we would sneak in a cat or snake for a day or two – dad is allergic to cats and deathly afraid of snakes – we had a monkey, goats, rabbits, gerbils, turtles, birds, lizards, frogs, salamanders, crabs, hamsters, fish, dogs and cats – my sister brought a dog home one time and she thought the dog was so beautiful that the only name that would fit would be her own – so she named the dog after herself! She also brought home Mark. She was 14, he was 14 – just a few months difference in their ages. Mark had been going to Jr. High with her, and he was cute and fun and everyone loved hanging out with him – besides he was the new kid in school and that offered all sorts of possibilities since his parents didn’t know who was who or what was what. It was 1969 – summer of love and all that. Mark had recently moved in with an uncle in a foster care situation – his single mom of 5 boys and 1 girl – all hellions couldn’t handle the older three boys anymore and shipped them all out to foster care. Mark and his twin brothers – Uncle was not the best foster parent on the planet – well in fact, he really wasn’t equipped to have any kids around – some people have to learn in baby steps and having a few teenagers plunked on your doorstep isn’t much of a baby step. Mark’s first twin (btw, they are the least connected twins I have ever been around, it’s impossible for people to believe they are twins) was last out of uncle’s house, but ended up with some great foster parents that kept him for the rest of his growing up years. The other brother bounced from here to there and eventually just ended up on his own, which he always did very well anyhow. He had been born overseas, in Germany, a military brat. I don’t really know the story on his biological father, they lived with their mom and grandmother – the grandmother was quite the hard ass – the boys rebelled big time – and it being the late sixties, there were plenty of creative opportunities for rebellion. Mark came to us – it didn’t take my parents long at all to decide that they could do a lot more good for this boy than the uncle was doing. Mark had already been in quite a bit of trouble with the law and had a few habits that continued getting him into trouble – and it was 1969 – a lot of kids were getting into trouble. Eventually Mark ran away (I think it was more “running to” for those kids in those days – at least the ones in my family, cousins, inlaws, sister, brothers – they were always running to some cool event that they weren’t going to be allowed to attend – maybe even a long-term, open-ended return on a sneaking out – they weren’t running away from anything, they were running toward an opportunity to be a sixties kid) one too many times for the foster care people to put him back in our house – they sent him to a boy’s home – but he never lost touch or quit participating in the family. He eventually fell in love with a great girl and had two beautiful babies with her. My first niece and nephew – both parents themselves now. The relationship didn’t last – Mark drinks too much and the passion fell away from their young love and they parted ways – but Mark never lost touch with his kids, and neither did we – we saw them all of the time, at times they spent huge chunks of their summers or other vacations with us. Mark shared so much of his life with us, it was like a puzzle piece we didn’t know we were missing until he filled the spot. Mark eventually married again and had another daughter – she lives with her mom in another state – that marriage ended also. Mark loves very passionately, he falls very hard for the women he falls for, and then he usually gets his heart broken very deeply. It’s been hard to watch him fall and hurt and heal over and over, but it has never dampened his spirit – he continues to love passionately, all of his family, to share anything he has with anyone he loves, to be there to help or support regardless of what you’ve done or how inconvenient it is for him to get there for you. I know that any of my brothers or sisters would do ANYTHING for me – you know “help me bury the body” type of help – but Mark would be there first, and he would stay to the end making sure I was okay – even if it meant missing work or traveling a long distance – it’s just part of his passionate way for things. And he is always up for some sort of party – he loves people, women, talking, drinking, dancing, music – he may not always be the first to arrive at the party, but he is generally the last to leave. I have so many fond memories of hanging out on the beach at the lake, drinking beers and listening to George Thurogood – going to the racetrack to watch he and my other brother, or just to watch the races even if they weren’t driving and then drinking in the pits till the early morning, always laughing, always singing. His children hold a very special place in my heart, watching them grow, seeing them become beautiful wonderful passionate people like their parents, and watching them grow more beautiful children with that same amazing passion for life and love.

Spud

He was Lee. He was seventeen years-old, dating Mom’s housekeeper, and working as a wrangler at a local stable. He was super handsome – James Dean handsome – gorgeous thick slicked back hair and a perfect duck butt in the back. He was built like a brick shithouse and could turn heads from nine to ninety. He’d seen more in his short seventeen years than most screenwriters can dream up in a lifetime of imagining awful drama that happens to other people’s kids. I’m going to write a little about his childhood, but I may edit it out later. He had been born to a woman who had a knack for choosing lousy men – of course she came from a long line of lousy men – and lousy women. They were from the poorest Irish neighborhood in Denver – and folks who knew of their family said there was lots of violence, beatings and incest -- no one from that part of town had much respect for the family. I don’t even know if she was married to his father. All I know about his father is that when my brother was old enough to still have memory of it as an adult, and little enough for no one to think anything of it – he watched his father shoot a man in the parking lot of a bar. He was supposed to be sleeping in the car when he woke up and saw his father shoot another man. His father went to prison for murder and he never saw him again. His mother married a man far worse. He had three sisters, I think they are all half-sisters, children of the second marriage, but I am not certain about that. The man drove a truck. They lived in the mountains – rural, away from folks. That man was abusive like something out of a book – I know there are stories that I have never heard because they are worse than those that I know. He tore into the mom on a regular basis, beating the hell out of her and the kids. I’m sure from things I’ve heard, and having met the man, that he wouldn’t have blinked twice at doing the unimaginable to those kids. While my brother was still too small to attend school, he would play with his toys outside – often under the big truck/trailer that the old man drove. Like most kids, when he was called inside for supper or chores, he would forget his toys and leave them where they were. The old man was furious, and sent the little boy under that truck to retrieve those toys – then he intentionally ran over his hands, mutilating his young growing bones. He locked him in a tin shack on the property and beat the hell out of his sisters for sneaking food and water to him – I don’t know what prompted him to feel that punishment was warranted. There was a neighbor down the road who was somehow aware the boy was locked in the shed – he would let him out and feed him whenever he could without the old man finding out – he saved my brothers life, I have no doubt. He hated that man, and was gone as soon as he could earn a living on his own, at about 13 years old – strangely though, he could never completely break that tie with his sisters and his mother – he hated her too, for allowing the abuse – but he never lost touch with them. And so he met my parents – and they treated him kindly, trusted him, loved him, and respected him – he blossomed into another kind of man than what he probably would have become. He joined the Navy shortly after my parents were married – he served aboard a ship during Viet Nam. I don’t know many details of his service, I just know that he doesn’t like to talk about that either. I remember him always always being so excited for family time – so into the holidays, the gifts, the meals, the sharing and the love. He would find that one gift that no one else could find and make the biggest deal out of not just the gift, but the whole experience of giving and receiving a whole separate memory worth holding in your heart forever. He made reindeer hoof prints in the snow, and sooty santa boot prints on the hearth when I was little. He hid easter eggs in the most exciting places – you would have to talk him into a shoulder ride to find them all. It wasn’t just for me though – one year he was certain he wouldn’t be home for Thanksgiving – mom was very upset, she’d never had a Thanksgiving without all of her kids gathered around her. It was awful weather in Montana, and he didn’t think he could beat the highway closures. We were all sitting down to eat when we heard the jake brake coming down the hill – my mom ran to the door and ripped it open – tears streaming down her face. He jumped outta the truck clear down the hill and across the street and shouted – “hey ma, I brought some pie”. She ran out to meet him and he took her up the hill and behind that huge trailer and whipped open the doors to reveal two pies sitting right there in the back of the empty trailer! I had pet rabbits when I was growing up – rabbits were my thing. I had this wonderful rabbit, Jacques for years – my Jacques stories could fill an entire entry on their own! – Jacques was probably 3-4 years old the morning that my father found him dead in the yard – having been attacked by neighborhood dogs. I was heartbroken, I thought no pain could compare to my grief for my beloved pet. JL (he was JL by then, having changed his name to ours – the J for my dad’s name and the L for the Lee that his mother had given him) had come home a few nights later after a long trip of driving. I didn’t know my mom had even told him about my awful loss – I was pouring my heart out to him as he sat at the kitchen counter eating something. All of a sudden he was certain he had left his sunglasses in his car and could I run out and get them. I didn’t want to go, I wanted to keep talking to him, but he was really insistent, he needed those sunglasses right now. So I ran out to his car… and there on the seat of the car was a little tiny white baby bunny – hopping around and pooping – just like bunnies do. I couldn’t get up the hill and into the house fast enough. It was the perfect medicine for my broken heart – and he thought it was so funny sending me for sunglasses in the dark of night. He did equally passionate, loving or funny prankster things nearly every time he came home. He married a lot – too much. He had a hard time finding women who could be good enough for him and still put up with his baggage – no matter how much healing you find, there’s still some baggage from a life like his. His longest relationships were those that he had with women he didn’t marry – they became important parts of the family also. He has one son – named after my dad and another of my brothers – spitting image of JL. We danced, we were dance partners. We had so much fun, dancing Country swing and two-step and triple and whatever was required to compete in the competitions at the local country bars. We were good – very very good. We had so much fun hanging out in the bars together – oldest brother and baby sister – so many years difference in age and still such close friends – and when people would ask how old he was or I was – since I wasn’t 21 and he was older than he wanted people to know – I would just say “he’s twice as old as me” – that left them wondering. The string of tough relationships with pain in the ass women and a couple of nasty accidents that left him unable to drive a truck anymore made life in a tiny town in the Texas panhandle look pretty appealing. We knew where he was, but the rest of the world would only wonder. He worked that farm in Texas for a long time, driving a tractor – when he would come home to visit he would charm my kids with stories about the farm and his big tractor and how he would take a potato in the morning and stuff it full of onions and butter and whatever he had around and wrap it up in foil and put it on the engine of that big old tractor – then he would work all morning and when he stopped for lunch he’d have a nice stuffed, baked potato. Somehow my kids took to calling him Spud – the name stuck, darn near everyone calls him Spud now and all those other names are forgotten. His biological mother and her husband are dead, and he sees his sisters only for brief visits every now and again. So his new life as Spud, rotten childhood behind him, crappy marriages all but forgotten, and just Uncle Spud to the kids has him as contented as is imaginable.

where to go from here

I wrote a piece about my oldest brother -- you know way back in part 1 when I said I would go from oldest to youngest -- I used real names (which I will change) and right now it feels like I'm somehow violating his privacy -- and then I thought -- well I could post it for a short time and take it down again -- only my regular readers that have been reading thus far would probably be interested anyhow...

I'm not sure what I'm going to do now... I guess I will go write about my next brother and see where that takes my heart

so my question to you dear readers (all three of you, lol) is are you feeling voyeuristic enough to want to read about my siblings now that you know how crazy our attachments are - or would you rather I went on to something new?

part VII

My parents live on a strange piece of land, which if you were there, all the description of what and how might be interesting – but to be as brief as I can, the location of their land, and the shape of their land, and the road that runs through the land make it the ideal neighborhood shortcut for kids needing to get to the houses higher up the mountain. A couple of those kids spotted the puppies one day. They were reaching over the fence petting these adorable little black-lab-hey-come-have-fun-and-play-with-me-kid-magnets several afternoons. Mom let them have their time for a few days and then stepped out her back door to ask the boys if they wanted to walk the pups. It scared the hell outta the boys who were sure they would be in trouble for having used the shortcut, and worse yet gotten caught so close to the house. But, clearly Mom’s not very scary, and the boys took the dogs on many walks on many days. The one boy began to tell Mom a little about his life – well be damned if he wasn’t having a shitty childhood with misguided parents who weren’t capable of treating him like he should be treated, or his little brother either. There’s a big deal in the County where I grew up in 6th Grade. It’s called “outdoor lab” – you go away with your classmates for a week and live in a sort of a summer camp environment and you study animal scat and meteorology and hiking and survival and eco-systems, etc. Everyone looks forward to it for their entire time in school. Well one day the kid confessed that he couldn’t go to outdoor lab cuz his mom, who was a drunk and unemployed, didn’t have the money to get him the needed equipment. Mom said, hey, we probably have most of what’s on your list around here, you can borrow it. So he got out the list and sure enough Mom and Dad hooked him up – sleeping bag, flashlight, duffle bag, rain gear, wool socks, etc. They even found him a pair of boots. He was SO excited – he went home to tell his mom all about the nice “old couple” down the hill who were loaning him what he needed. Well his drunken abusive mom freaked out and made him take her to see these weird people. Mom and Dad charmed her, just like everyone else, and she left convinced they weren’t some weird pedophiles or religious fanatics that were gonna do something strange to her kid. But… she still wouldn’t allow him to go to Outdoor Lab. That kid, the only kid I ever knew who missed, had to sit at home that week with his drunken mom and know all his friends were at Outdoor Lab. He continued coming around to walk the dogs, or even just to avoid going home though, and started occasionally bringing his little brother too. After some months passed he showed up really needing some advice. His mom was being evicted and had told the boys (then 11 and 13) that she was going to go live in a box and they needed to find somewhere to live. Well they all discussed it and mom had two other boys already, and only really had room for one more – and the brothers notoriously did not get along well, and mom really didn’t want to referee all the time. Well the older brother decided he had a friend who lived nearby that he could ask and the younger boy moved in with Mom and Dad. Eventually the friend’s parents asked him to see if he could make some other arrangements; they hadn’t realized it would be so difficult and expensive to have two boys in the house. So he ended up at Mom and Dad’s too. My two little brothers hadn’t been loved or trusted or respected in a long time – and a little trust and love gave them a great foundation. Lots of other complicated crap happened to them… but eventually, they both managed to become fine young men. One is a Sergeant in the Marine Corps and the other has a college degree and a great career. The older one had so little respect for his biological father that when he was about to get his High School diploma he went to my parents, and asked if he could take their name. He didn’t want to ever use that other name again. It was so touching and we all sobbed through the entire graduation events every time they would proudly say his new name.

You should know, he wasn’t the first “foster” brother to choose to change his name. My oldest brother – since he couldn’t get that adoption he wanted – when he was in his twenties and about to get married – he didn’t want his bride to have his birth name, and he too changed his name to ours.

Now we were nine, with three extra exchange students.

part VI

When I was in High School, I had the house pretty much to myself. My healthy brothers were married, my sisters were both in Boston, and my other brother had chosen a completely anti-social existence that excluded everyone, including his mom, our mom and dad, and all of us. It was very empty, and then when I graduated, I became an exchange student – well that lit a fire for Mom. She wasn’t about to have that house empty, so she got an exchange student. I was living at home for college, so it was me and the French exchange student for a year. Then they contacted mom the next year needing a temporary place for a Brazilian kid whose host family didn’t want him (can you imagine!) She agreed, and of course he stayed for the whole year. Then they called to ask if she could take a Dutch girl a couple of years later – well yeah. So, then we were sort of 10 – really after you spend a year with someone, particularly at our house, they do feel like family. I cry when they have babies and get married; the French girl even had my parents at her wedding and treated them completely equal to her own French parents. They have all been back, the girls for visits, and the Brazilian came back and lived another year here while he attended college. It was during that year that my #2 brother’s ex-wife contacted my mom and said… “Hey I’m having trouble with this kid, and I think that your neighborhood would be much better for him to try to get through school than here in the city”… so my nephew moved in. My mom had the nephew in High school, the Brazilian kid in college, and two new puppies.

part V

Time passed, and everyone got old enough to bring home stray cats, dogs, and my oldest sister even brought home a stray kid or two. One of them was in foster care in the neighborhood – and the foster care wasn’t working out so peachy keen – he was in the foster care of a relative, and that wasn’t much accomplishing anything to help with his self-image, etc. My parents spoke with his foster parent and biological mom and they all determined maybe a new environment might really help him to thrive. He became our foster brother – so wow – we were three girls and four boys in a relatively moderate house – this meant four boys in one bedroom at some times, it worked out okay though, as our oldest brother was already an adult and was driving a semi over the road – he was gone for weeks at a time and home for only a few days here an there. No reason to have his own place when he wasn’t around much, and not much of an inconvenience when he was home as he was an adult, and I personally as the baby thought he was quite fun! Also, middle brother and sister were there like half-time – and in fact he was choosing to be around less and less as he became a teen and was unfortunately afflicted with schizophrenia, which at the time wasn’t diagnosed, but none the less made him anti-social. It was really very awesome – the seven of us, being loved and taught how to be great adults who contribute to society by our parents who had more than enough love to go around for us and any other strays that needed some comfort at various times.

Monday Monday

SIGH... I know I said I was gonna quit using this as my bitching outlet, but I just gotta

I have two meetings tonight, my son has a double header for baseball, and I have a meeting at work tomorrow that I should be spending today preparing for but instead I am cleaning my house as one of the meetings that I have tonight -- I am supposed to hostess -- UGH

also -- WTF is up with all my drafts posting on the day that I typed them instead of the day I click "post"?

part IV

Mom’s job, the one she had to get to feed her kids, was working as a bartender at a popular bar/restaurant that happened to be attached to a bowling alley. Dad was having his “boy’s night out” with some industry colleagues every week by bowling on a league – hmmmmm, I wonder where Dad was bowling? Well I know where he was drinking! It was an instant chemistry – but they were both a little gun shy – particularly Mom. In the end, Dad won her over and they started dating.

Ironically, they started dating around the time that Dodie decided to up and run off from her job and her boyfriend – she apparently was too fond of a few of Mom’s valuables to leave them behind though. The boyfriend showed up to pick her up for a date at about the same time Mom was panicking who would take care of the kids so that she could go to work. He offered his time until she could find a new housekeeper – and then he kept hanging around after that – he was fond of the kids and mom – and his own family life was more hideous than any Hollywood movie ever depicted child abuse being.

The magic eventually resulted in a marriage – and the blending of their four… well actually five kids. The Wrangler, who was seventeen, asked if they would adopt him – his own family clearly didn’t care about him, and he had never felt like he was loved or belonged anywhere before. They discussed it, and determined that adopting a seventeen year-old was a bit more than they could bite off with a new marriage – but he was welcome to be a part of the family in every way. It worked out that Mom was willing to give the baby making thing one more shot, and she and Dad didn’t have much trouble creating a little one once they set their sights on it. Five soon became six after I made my first appearance. I was absolutely adored and spoiled, or so all five of them would have me believe – my cousins and occasionally my mom will actually rat them out for various levels of neutrality or even annoyance with my existence. Dad adopted Mom’s two kids – their biological father was no peach and they needed the stability of having a good dad and the same name as their mom and siblings. Dad’s two contributions to the family continued to live with their mom, and spend weekends, holidays, and a good part of the summer with us. Though they lived with their mom (the address and phone number are still right at my fingertips in my memory!) we saw them often and were very close.

part III

They were a match made in heaven – Mom and Dad that is – but they had some more learning to do, and part of that was to have other marriages first. Thus came four of my siblings.

Mom and her first husband had a daughter and son – but he was abusive and in order to survive and protect her kids Mom made the brave (and very unpopular choice in the early sixties) decision to get a divorce. This left her in the unique position of being a single mom that had to work to support her kids. There was no such thing as daycare, so she hired a housekeeper – you know like Alice or Hazel or Mr. Belvedere – Mom’s housekeeper stories alone are enough to fill a blog for a few months – wow! Anyhow, after hiring, firing, and chasing a few away with the pet monkey – mom had a cute little young housekeeper named Dodie that was dating the cute wrangler at the stables – this was handy, as Dodie could take the kids out horseback riding for an activity with some frequency, and the kids became as fond of the wrangler as they were of Dodie.

Meantime, Dad was trying to have children with his first wife and things were not working out in the ordinary way – so they took themselves over to the local Catholic orphanage and spotted and adorable baby boy – they took him home and named him after Dad – well at least his middle name. A little time passed and they thought, heck, let’s go get another one. Though thinking they would bring home a baby, Dad’s first wife spotted a toddler girl in a green dress and a miserable expression – she determined this poor child who no one else had wanted had spent enough time in the orphanage and needed the love that she and Dad could give her. She was right; she fit in very well and thrived in their care. But, some lessons are harder to spot, and as it turns out – Dad’s youth had caused an awful lot of damage to his self-esteem, and he really had just settled on the first girl who would have him, and there wasn’t a passionate love to keep them together – and they had different ideas about the future as well, which was a frustration to them both.