I'd like to say that I'm back with a bang or a vengeance or even just back with the confidence that I'll blog at least once a month. Knowing my history of 41 years of not finishing anything (stay tuned for my dad's take....), I'll just say I'm back.
I've had several friends ask recently, "When are you going to blog again?" Seems they enjoyed my ramblings. Weird, I know. I can't figure it out but I do aim to please. Hey! Two character flaws in one!
Let me address the whole never finishing anything thing. I started college at Muskingum College, a terrific institution in Ohio. During our orientation lecture, we were told to look to our left and right, absorbing the fact that one of those idiots (my word) wouldn't be graduating. I wondered which dolt it would be, never thinking it might be me. It couldnt' be me. Much was expected. Much had been earned in scholarships. It wouldn't be me.
:::insert sound of long record scratch here::: Young people should google long record scratch sound bite. I won't do all your work for you for fear you'll turn out just like me.
Things didn't work out at Muskingum as I was 102 pounds, insecure and refused to eat. Didn't seem like quitting at the time but it was. Without "getting" it, I was quitting Muskingum by my actions. 'nuff said....
At about 103 pounds, I enrolled at Thiel College. I'd visited as a high school junior and got to see Thiel through the eyes of my fun loving, Lambda Chi Alpha, guitar pickin', dead-head brother. Seemed like a great Plan B at the time. Brian had a ball at Thiel. At least I'd have fun, right?
Seems no one told me about the work involved. Oh, I had fun. I had more fun than is legal to tell my kids about. I had more fun than is legal. I laughed and I drank and I smoked and laughed some more. I had terrific boyfriends, horrible boyfriends and boyfriends whose names I really wish I could remember. Some were all of the above. I pledged THE sorority. I wanted so much to be one of those pretty girls. I wanted those letters strewn across my back. Why? Because I loved all of them? Nah. I hated myself and believed AGD on my jacket (hung low,of course) would trick others into thinking I was pretty and worthy and all that shit.
I'm getting off-track, aren't I? Well, kind of. I didn't finish any of that,either. I remember handing a five or ten dollar bill to the Alpha Gamma Delta treasurer and saying, "I'm not coming to the meeting." I remember my dear, true friends saying things like, "Sue-Bee, Thiel isn't a hotel. You can't just live here. This isn't your apartment." You guessed it. I didn't finish Thiel.
What's a girl who doesn't finish college to do? Duh! She marries the hometown boy. Did that. Married him, got pregnant, won't go into details as his grandmother is still alive, left him... Another unfinished project.
GAH! What are we up to now? No. Don't tell me. I don't really want to know.
I've started numerous businesses and quit. I've started this blog and quit.
A few weeks back, I had to go in for a colonoscopy. Husband was out of the country, Mom was out of town, daughter was working. It fell to my father to take me. He was a great sport about it and was sweet about my nerves. When we first arrived, an aide said, "Come on back," only to be met with my, "Wait, this isn't how it's supposed to work. I have books to read. I'm early and thought I'd get to sit for awhile...." She took me back anyway but realized she'd made an error and sent me back to my comfort zone, the chair next to The Old Man in the waiting area. The Old Man and I chatted about many things until I told him that I was considering taking one course at a local college. I KNEW he'd be tickled because it's his alma mater. I knew it until he sighed and said, "You've never finished anything in your life...."
At that very moment, as if to prove God's existence, that aide reappeared and said, "Mrs. Karson, are you ready?" Ready for anesthesia? Ready for a camera to be guided up the pooper? Ummmmm, YESPLEASE!
She saved me from his words,his truth. She interrupted at precisely the right moment. Next time, I probably won't be so lucky and I might have to explore why I can't finish anything. For now, I'm simply thankful for that aide and that camera's schedule.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
The Road Back
I hesitate to announce that I'm back. After several years of deep, dark depression during which I spent the majority of my time hiding in my bedroom, I feel like I'm coming back. I'll always love a nap but they're no longer daily or eight hours long. This is a work in progress. I'm not done. This is a road and I'm hoping it doesn't have an end. My hope is that this road remains as fun and beautiful and eye-opening as it's been so far.
Where did this journey begin? And, did I just use that term? Journey is such an Oprah-y word. Yeee-uch. I'm gonna go with it but know that I'm ashamed of myself for using it. I think this began when I switched doctors. I'd been seeing a great doc who had allowed his practice to grow too big, too fast. I wasn't feeling heard anymore and I'd been handed more prescriptions than I was comfortable with. He's gifted but it was no longer the right place for me. Dr. Malvar was recommended by several people and he's the friendliest person in our neighborhood so I gave him a try. That's where the seeds of change were planted.
When I started with him, I was taking a maximum dose of concerta and high dose of cymbalta. I'd been diagnosed with adult ADHD and depression. I was also taking a pill for high blood pressure each day. That was a lot of medicine for a 40 year old woman who still felt like crap. My first appointment was spent sitting and talking about family history, the depression, work, kids, lifestyle and so on. Dr. Malvar spent one hour and fifteen minutes just talking with me. Unbelievable. He let me talk. He asked all the right questions. I trusted him immediately.
That day, I left his office with a plan. He agreed with me that the cymbalta wasn't working for me but heard me when I explained that I'd had one hell of a time coming off of other antidepressants and was terrified that I'd go through it again. He heard me. He didn't roll his eyes or nod and smirk. He respected my fear of brain zaps. After discussing my work vs. home life, he quickly realized that I did not have adult ADHD at all. My ability to perform at work but not at home was clearly a symptom of the depression and anxiety. Step one was to get me off the concerta. It was easy to come off of and I felt a little better right away. Next up was the scary part, weaning off the cymbalta. It took us several months but I got there. Because my depression is very real, he prescribed a different antidepressant and it's working very well for me. I've also stopped taking the blood pressure pill because my blood pressure is back to normal.
**Just because cymbalta didn't work for me doesn't mean it won't work for anyone. It put me into what I call a cymbalta-coma only because of my chemistry. It might be just the right medicine for many people.**
During my monthly appointments, we'd discuss my weight. I'd tell him what I'd bought that month, from my "magic shoes" to P90x. I'd also admit that I wasn't using them like I should. I think I had to get my head straight before I could tackle my weight. He was encouraging and gave me some great tips to start my weight loss. The exercise was just something I wasn't ready for. I never felt judged or scolded. I also never felt alone in this process.
My weight... This is hard. My weight, on my home scale, was up to....this is really hard... It was high. I mean really, really high. I'd been right around 100 pounds during high school and college. 120 after Meg was born. Ugh, I should just type it, right? This is going to hurt but here goes.... My weight had reached 204. My size 14 pants were fitting a little tight and some days, I didn't really need to tie my scrub pants. I was chugging diet pop, eating in my car more than in my house and to say I was sedentary would be laughable. I was comatose. So, there it is. 204 pounds.
Something in me clicked, finally. The desire to lose weight was always there. I have proof in the form of exercise programs, a full gym in my basement, a pilates machine in my bedroom and these "magic shoes" of mine. What I needed was a desire to get healthy. I was missing my kids' lives. I wasn't really living at all. I had to get healthy and I had to do it right.
As I type this, I'm still on the road to health. I'm down to 175 pounds and look much better. Sure, I'd like to lose fifteen more pounds and I will but it'll be a process. I'm going to write about the program I'm using in another post as this one has gone on too long already.
Why would I put this all out there? It's not the most comfortable thing to share. Here's what, though. I'm certain I have many friends who struggle with weight, depression, self-loathing, and more. I might be the only one to admit it so openly but I'm certainly not the only one to deal with it. I want people to read this and know that, when you're ready, there's a way out.
Where did this journey begin? And, did I just use that term? Journey is such an Oprah-y word. Yeee-uch. I'm gonna go with it but know that I'm ashamed of myself for using it. I think this began when I switched doctors. I'd been seeing a great doc who had allowed his practice to grow too big, too fast. I wasn't feeling heard anymore and I'd been handed more prescriptions than I was comfortable with. He's gifted but it was no longer the right place for me. Dr. Malvar was recommended by several people and he's the friendliest person in our neighborhood so I gave him a try. That's where the seeds of change were planted.
When I started with him, I was taking a maximum dose of concerta and high dose of cymbalta. I'd been diagnosed with adult ADHD and depression. I was also taking a pill for high blood pressure each day. That was a lot of medicine for a 40 year old woman who still felt like crap. My first appointment was spent sitting and talking about family history, the depression, work, kids, lifestyle and so on. Dr. Malvar spent one hour and fifteen minutes just talking with me. Unbelievable. He let me talk. He asked all the right questions. I trusted him immediately.
That day, I left his office with a plan. He agreed with me that the cymbalta wasn't working for me but heard me when I explained that I'd had one hell of a time coming off of other antidepressants and was terrified that I'd go through it again. He heard me. He didn't roll his eyes or nod and smirk. He respected my fear of brain zaps. After discussing my work vs. home life, he quickly realized that I did not have adult ADHD at all. My ability to perform at work but not at home was clearly a symptom of the depression and anxiety. Step one was to get me off the concerta. It was easy to come off of and I felt a little better right away. Next up was the scary part, weaning off the cymbalta. It took us several months but I got there. Because my depression is very real, he prescribed a different antidepressant and it's working very well for me. I've also stopped taking the blood pressure pill because my blood pressure is back to normal.
**Just because cymbalta didn't work for me doesn't mean it won't work for anyone. It put me into what I call a cymbalta-coma only because of my chemistry. It might be just the right medicine for many people.**
During my monthly appointments, we'd discuss my weight. I'd tell him what I'd bought that month, from my "magic shoes" to P90x. I'd also admit that I wasn't using them like I should. I think I had to get my head straight before I could tackle my weight. He was encouraging and gave me some great tips to start my weight loss. The exercise was just something I wasn't ready for. I never felt judged or scolded. I also never felt alone in this process.
My weight... This is hard. My weight, on my home scale, was up to....this is really hard... It was high. I mean really, really high. I'd been right around 100 pounds during high school and college. 120 after Meg was born. Ugh, I should just type it, right? This is going to hurt but here goes.... My weight had reached 204. My size 14 pants were fitting a little tight and some days, I didn't really need to tie my scrub pants. I was chugging diet pop, eating in my car more than in my house and to say I was sedentary would be laughable. I was comatose. So, there it is. 204 pounds.
Something in me clicked, finally. The desire to lose weight was always there. I have proof in the form of exercise programs, a full gym in my basement, a pilates machine in my bedroom and these "magic shoes" of mine. What I needed was a desire to get healthy. I was missing my kids' lives. I wasn't really living at all. I had to get healthy and I had to do it right.
As I type this, I'm still on the road to health. I'm down to 175 pounds and look much better. Sure, I'd like to lose fifteen more pounds and I will but it'll be a process. I'm going to write about the program I'm using in another post as this one has gone on too long already.
Why would I put this all out there? It's not the most comfortable thing to share. Here's what, though. I'm certain I have many friends who struggle with weight, depression, self-loathing, and more. I might be the only one to admit it so openly but I'm certainly not the only one to deal with it. I want people to read this and know that, when you're ready, there's a way out.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
My Kindle Came Out of the Closet
Dear Kindle,
While you've been hiding in my closet, I've been reading real books with paper pages and print and all that great stuff. As you know, per our conversation the day we met, I prefer a real book. I'll always prefer a real book.
Why will you never measure up, you ask? You don't smell anything like the New Castle Public Library. I can't flip through you. I can't stack you next to my bed in a pile that's high enough for me to rest my water on. I'll never plant my kids in the coffee shop area at B&N while loading up my arms with you. These are simple things but these things delight me.
Don't frown, Kindle. Good things have happened while you've been away. I've reevaluated my feelings. While I'll always, always prefer to read Diana Joseph's I'm Sorry You Feel That Way in paper form, I will finally concede that you have a place in this world of ours. You are the easy option when I cannot decide which book to carry to a soccer game. You are lighter than the laptop bag full of books that I've been carrying to swim team practice. You are lightweight and easy on my 41 year old eyes. After 183 games of Solitaire on my droid, my eyes thank you.
In other words, I'll compromise. You, Kindle, are NO book. You will never fill the shoes of a book. You will, however, fill a need. In the spirit of transparency, I admit that my initial search for you was only an effort to find, list and sell you on eBay. Now that I've found you, you're mine, all mine.
Fact is, I'm not sure if I found you, really. I choose to believe that you hid from me while I learned the lessons necessary to appreciate you. I think you crawled into that tote bag in my closet, knowing all the while that you'd be blanketed in clothing and laundry and bags and receipts in no time at all. I think you are a clever one, Kindle, and for that, I thank you.
G'night, dear friend. I will love you until the next upgrade......
While you've been hiding in my closet, I've been reading real books with paper pages and print and all that great stuff. As you know, per our conversation the day we met, I prefer a real book. I'll always prefer a real book.
Why will you never measure up, you ask? You don't smell anything like the New Castle Public Library. I can't flip through you. I can't stack you next to my bed in a pile that's high enough for me to rest my water on. I'll never plant my kids in the coffee shop area at B&N while loading up my arms with you. These are simple things but these things delight me.
Don't frown, Kindle. Good things have happened while you've been away. I've reevaluated my feelings. While I'll always, always prefer to read Diana Joseph's I'm Sorry You Feel That Way in paper form, I will finally concede that you have a place in this world of ours. You are the easy option when I cannot decide which book to carry to a soccer game. You are lighter than the laptop bag full of books that I've been carrying to swim team practice. You are lightweight and easy on my 41 year old eyes. After 183 games of Solitaire on my droid, my eyes thank you.
In other words, I'll compromise. You, Kindle, are NO book. You will never fill the shoes of a book. You will, however, fill a need. In the spirit of transparency, I admit that my initial search for you was only an effort to find, list and sell you on eBay. Now that I've found you, you're mine, all mine.
G'night, dear friend. I will love you until the next upgrade......
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Resolutions? Sure. I'll play.
I used to do the whole new year, new me thing. As I became more self-aware, I realized that I was adding unnecessary pressure to an already fragile sense of self. With this realization, I Quit with a capital Q. I would even go so far as to say that I was anti-resolution. I puffed myself up as I said things like, "That is such a silly tradition," and "I'll make changes when and how I see fit."
After this past year-from-hell, I'm ready to shake things up a little. This year, I resolve to do some things. This year, I will write them and even click that scary little "publish" button. Yes, this year, I will make resolutions and I will share them with you. Readers, your job is to keep me accountable. Trust me, it's not asking much. Read on....
In the year 2011, I shall:
1. Watch This Is Spinal Tap from start to finish. I won't laugh because I feel I must. I will laugh only if it bubbles up within me. I will also watch in their complete form, the following: Gone With the Wind, It's a Wonderful Life and The Godfather. I might hide my eyes a few times during The Godfather. This is the year I stop pretending to have seen these movies.
2. Do a flip turn. I think my last flip turn was 1980ish? Yes, I swam on swim team. I was no Donna DeVarona but I loved it. I felt at home in the pool and swam my little heart out without ever winning a thing. I returned to swimming when my Jack was a baby. I swam five days a week at the Sewickley Y. I swam but I didn't try a flip turn. Why would I? I was in shape. I was proud. I didn't need no stinkin' flip turn. While watching my girls practice and work their tails off at swim team several times a week, I realized it's time. As The Duchess so kindly pointed out, I'll need to get in the pool to do a flip turn but she's promised to help me with minimal laughter.
3. Get this house together. Look, I am no Martha Stewart. Note that I didn't link to her site. That's because she falls in the pressure category for me. I don't insist on a crazy clean, perfect home. I just want to be able to walk into any room without having to goose step. I don't want to wonder any longer if My Heart has hidden a body in his room or if that is, as he says, just dirty laundry. I don't want to search for a pen or a screwdriver or, well, wine.
4. Make every single appointment for my kids/parents. I won't make an ortho appt months in advance and neglect to add it to my phone calendar. I won't insist my mother tell me what day and time her next appointment is with her oncologist, only to neglect to write it down and hear about it after the fact.
5. Blog at least once per week. Tune back in one week from now to find out what a loser I am. No, wait, this is a resolution. Resolve: –verb (used without object) to come to a determination; make up one's mind; determine (often fol. by on or upon ): to resolve on a plan of action. I WILL blog at least once per week. I mean it, kinda.....
6. Ride a bike. Again, it's been years. It won't be as difficult as the flip turn but it'll hurt the next day if I do it right.
7. Golf regularly. When we had Jack, I remember thinking that we'd become the perfect foursome. I couldn't wait to golf with my kids. Even when Katherine came along, I figured I'd golf with my kids when John was out of the country. Again, perfect foursome. This year, we golf! I don't care if we're at Borland's or the country club. We're going to golf. We will spend time at the driving range. We will laugh and carry on. I will drool over Big Daddy's calves mid backswing and when golfing only with him, I will bring a book to read during the back nine.
8. Drive to Wilmington, Ohio. That's no big thing, right? I'm going. I'd love it if all the New Castle-ish Wilsons could caravan but if I have to drive alone to Wilmington, I will. I will show my sister that she is as loved by us as we are by her.
9. Eat at The Tavern 2x per month. Alone. Yes, I will take a book and a $20 bill and enjoy some alone time twice a month. Do NOT tell my husband or kids about this. I miss The Tavern. One of the bright sides of chemotherapy was lunch at The Tavern after sessions. Naturally, I don't wish to repeat that reason but I do wish to repeat my lunches.
10. Do what I say. 'Nuff said....
After this past year-from-hell, I'm ready to shake things up a little. This year, I resolve to do some things. This year, I will write them and even click that scary little "publish" button. Yes, this year, I will make resolutions and I will share them with you. Readers, your job is to keep me accountable. Trust me, it's not asking much. Read on....
In the year 2011, I shall:
1. Watch This Is Spinal Tap from start to finish. I won't laugh because I feel I must. I will laugh only if it bubbles up within me. I will also watch in their complete form, the following: Gone With the Wind, It's a Wonderful Life and The Godfather. I might hide my eyes a few times during The Godfather. This is the year I stop pretending to have seen these movies.
2. Do a flip turn. I think my last flip turn was 1980ish? Yes, I swam on swim team. I was no Donna DeVarona but I loved it. I felt at home in the pool and swam my little heart out without ever winning a thing. I returned to swimming when my Jack was a baby. I swam five days a week at the Sewickley Y. I swam but I didn't try a flip turn. Why would I? I was in shape. I was proud. I didn't need no stinkin' flip turn. While watching my girls practice and work their tails off at swim team several times a week, I realized it's time. As The Duchess so kindly pointed out, I'll need to get in the pool to do a flip turn but she's promised to help me with minimal laughter.
3. Get this house together. Look, I am no Martha Stewart. Note that I didn't link to her site. That's because she falls in the pressure category for me. I don't insist on a crazy clean, perfect home. I just want to be able to walk into any room without having to goose step. I don't want to wonder any longer if My Heart has hidden a body in his room or if that is, as he says, just dirty laundry. I don't want to search for a pen or a screwdriver or, well, wine.
4. Make every single appointment for my kids/parents. I won't make an ortho appt months in advance and neglect to add it to my phone calendar. I won't insist my mother tell me what day and time her next appointment is with her oncologist, only to neglect to write it down and hear about it after the fact.
5. Blog at least once per week. Tune back in one week from now to find out what a loser I am. No, wait, this is a resolution. Resolve: –verb (used without object) to come to a determination; make up one's mind; determine (often fol. by on or upon ): to resolve on a plan of action. I WILL blog at least once per week. I mean it, kinda.....
6. Ride a bike. Again, it's been years. It won't be as difficult as the flip turn but it'll hurt the next day if I do it right.
7. Golf regularly. When we had Jack, I remember thinking that we'd become the perfect foursome. I couldn't wait to golf with my kids. Even when Katherine came along, I figured I'd golf with my kids when John was out of the country. Again, perfect foursome. This year, we golf! I don't care if we're at Borland's or the country club. We're going to golf. We will spend time at the driving range. We will laugh and carry on. I will drool over Big Daddy's calves mid backswing and when golfing only with him, I will bring a book to read during the back nine.
8. Drive to Wilmington, Ohio. That's no big thing, right? I'm going. I'd love it if all the New Castle-ish Wilsons could caravan but if I have to drive alone to Wilmington, I will. I will show my sister that she is as loved by us as we are by her.
9. Eat at The Tavern 2x per month. Alone. Yes, I will take a book and a $20 bill and enjoy some alone time twice a month. Do NOT tell my husband or kids about this. I miss The Tavern. One of the bright sides of chemotherapy was lunch at The Tavern after sessions. Naturally, I don't wish to repeat that reason but I do wish to repeat my lunches.
10. Do what I say. 'Nuff said....
Friday, December 24, 2010
It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like a New Year.
It's December 24, 2010. May I please start revving up for my kick in 2010's ass now? May I breathe yet?
I've seen some bad years in my 41 years here. There was the year my dad was laid off just as I became engaged. There was the year I had my heart shattered and left college. Most recently, there was the year I called my mom's "blood doctor" only to hear them answer the phone, "UPMC Cancer Center. How may I help you?" Yes, I've seen some bad years.
This year, this year of 2010, will likely be counted among my worst. This year started with the norm. The norm. Ha! Remember that? If you think you know the norm, you just haven't met reality yet. This year, we met reality. It was real, sure. It was also ugly and mean and painful and nothing we could have imagined.
2010 saw our continuing fight with Wells Fargo, a job loss and continued worry over the aforementioned cancer. Mostly, though, 2010 saw us trying to fight a machine for and with our cherished daughter. The year watched her go from popular kid in good relationship with great guy to a casualty of overblown egos who attack the weakest among them.
Our Duchess made some stupid, stupid decisions this year. As with most stupid decisions, she was held to responsibility for them. Her responsibility came far sooner than with most. She had to make life-altering, difficult decisions. She had to take ownership and step up. Wait, doesn't that sound almost adult?? It does. Our 17 year old found herself forced into adult decisions and faced them. She didn't beg us to fix anything or decide anything for her. She grew into a role of ownership. She knew she'd screwed up and she dug in and made up her own mind. Sure, it would have been easy to cave to pressure from friends (or their boyfriends) or society or even her mother. Glimpsing wisdom, though, she didn't cave. She lived.
We thought we were through the worst when the worst was over but, boy, were we wrong. We hadn't anticipated small-minded bigoted boys with less tolerance than a 4 year old and more bravado than could ever possibly be attributed to a mere 17 or 18 year old. We did what we had to do as parents. We fought for our child. We stood up and held administration to task. Sadly, our administration is so closely tied to our school board which is so closely tied to our precious, untouchable boy-heroes that our facts and insistence held nothing.
Sure, we could have sued. Some say we should have sued. Some say we should have shut the hell up and taken it. Others say we are alarmists. I say, "We are her parents." Would you have done less? More? I've seen, and believe me, I feel your judgement. It will NEVER outweigh our love for our girl.
As 2010 comes to an end, I can hold my head even higher knowing that The Duchess has a doll of a boyfriend with a terrific family. She has swim team to hold her up. She has siblings and parents who are supporting her when she doesn't even realize we're here. She has TRUE friends who haven't faultered one inch through it all.
She has taught us all a valuable lesson. We can and will all be dealt horrible hands throughout life. We could all learn from Meggie and meet them face to face, take a deep breath and tackle.
Thank you, Megs, for all the lessons you've taught us throughout this year. You're not yet a woman but you are well on your way. I am so proud of you!
I've seen some bad years in my 41 years here. There was the year my dad was laid off just as I became engaged. There was the year I had my heart shattered and left college. Most recently, there was the year I called my mom's "blood doctor" only to hear them answer the phone, "UPMC Cancer Center. How may I help you?" Yes, I've seen some bad years.
This year, this year of 2010, will likely be counted among my worst. This year started with the norm. The norm. Ha! Remember that? If you think you know the norm, you just haven't met reality yet. This year, we met reality. It was real, sure. It was also ugly and mean and painful and nothing we could have imagined.
2010 saw our continuing fight with Wells Fargo, a job loss and continued worry over the aforementioned cancer. Mostly, though, 2010 saw us trying to fight a machine for and with our cherished daughter. The year watched her go from popular kid in good relationship with great guy to a casualty of overblown egos who attack the weakest among them.
Our Duchess made some stupid, stupid decisions this year. As with most stupid decisions, she was held to responsibility for them. Her responsibility came far sooner than with most. She had to make life-altering, difficult decisions. She had to take ownership and step up. Wait, doesn't that sound almost adult?? It does. Our 17 year old found herself forced into adult decisions and faced them. She didn't beg us to fix anything or decide anything for her. She grew into a role of ownership. She knew she'd screwed up and she dug in and made up her own mind. Sure, it would have been easy to cave to pressure from friends (or their boyfriends) or society or even her mother. Glimpsing wisdom, though, she didn't cave. She lived.
We thought we were through the worst when the worst was over but, boy, were we wrong. We hadn't anticipated small-minded bigoted boys with less tolerance than a 4 year old and more bravado than could ever possibly be attributed to a mere 17 or 18 year old. We did what we had to do as parents. We fought for our child. We stood up and held administration to task. Sadly, our administration is so closely tied to our school board which is so closely tied to our precious, untouchable boy-heroes that our facts and insistence held nothing.
Sure, we could have sued. Some say we should have sued. Some say we should have shut the hell up and taken it. Others say we are alarmists. I say, "We are her parents." Would you have done less? More? I've seen, and believe me, I feel your judgement. It will NEVER outweigh our love for our girl.
As 2010 comes to an end, I can hold my head even higher knowing that The Duchess has a doll of a boyfriend with a terrific family. She has swim team to hold her up. She has siblings and parents who are supporting her when she doesn't even realize we're here. She has TRUE friends who haven't faultered one inch through it all.
She has taught us all a valuable lesson. We can and will all be dealt horrible hands throughout life. We could all learn from Meggie and meet them face to face, take a deep breath and tackle.
Thank you, Megs, for all the lessons you've taught us throughout this year. You're not yet a woman but you are well on your way. I am so proud of you!
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Katherine's Manifesto, er, Christmas List
We've been presented with quite a list from our Katherine this year. We've read it individually and as a family. We've puzzled over the meaning behind some of the items and giggled over others. I'm not sure what her grand plan is but you can be sure that there is a grand plan. The list is as follows, typed exactly as it's written:
A big tv with cable, a stuffed cat, a new backpack, fake glasses, dog tags, a jump rope, candy, books, a stuffed Spongebob and Plankton from Spongebob the tv show, pajamas and slippers for Rebecca the American Girl doll, Phase 10 and War game cards, a baby doll, a hair dryer, stickers, a beanie baby, some movies, a Taylor Swift cd, a dress, a piggy bank, new shoes, a ball cap, a laptop, a 64 pack of crayons, Vera Bradley pants size 7-8, a Vera Bradley purse, a Vera Bradley clipboard, a pack of markers, a fridge for my room, a radio, magnets, a digital alarm clock - make sure it's pink, a Hannah Montana bedset with Hannah Montana pillows, hairspray that is Tresemme, my own water bottle, a phone! a fake credit card, a pink cat collare that says Bella, a blue collar with the name Scout on it, a chair that can hang from the ceiling, a real clarinet, a 150 page notebook, a christmas box that has Santa on it, a free kid meal from McDonalds 6 piece chicken nuggets instead of frieds I want apples and I want a girl toy with it, 3 Barbie dolls, fake blood, glasses for my American girl, a small bed for Rebecca, Julie's slippers, Julie is an American Girl, Lanie the Amer girl and bunny and laptop and laptop case, Lanie's camper and everything inside it, Lanie's hammock, Julie's bed, Kit's dog, Kit, American Girl clothes, winter boots, A DSI, a DS, A DSIXL (on top of this page she notes, "Make all the DSIs pink but the DS dark blue!), a guitar lamp from Best Buy, a scrapbook, a Barbie Jeep, a Demi Lovato cd, a size 7-8 t-shirt with Winnie the Pooh, a big, giant mirror like Mom's, some money like 20 dollars, a small piano like Jack's, a poster with a pony on it, some papers with designs on them so i can choose what I want for my room, a tissue box, a Kesha cd, flowers to pretty up my room, a pink hair bow, an ipad, 2 picture frames, a children cookbook, a chalkboard, a white board, a locket necklace, a fake mustache, a sofa for my room, a bracelet box, a trophy shelf, a PSP, a new pair of clogs, a long, brown hair wig, a regular lamp, a long red silky dress, ear muffs, a spy camera, a toy that I'll like, a purse, a bookshelf, a toybox, stuffed dog, sweatshirt, Kicking and Screaming lyrics sheets, an encyclopedia, makeup!
She added a page that states in large letters, "MY TV WILL BE PINK AND CHANNELS UP TO 800. P.S. Same cable as family!"
I'd love to know which of these items jumps out at you. Any ideas as to why a seven year old girl would need a fake mustache and fake blood? What might she do with dog tags? Thoughts??
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Home, Sweet, WAIIIITTTTT!!
This week, as soon as I receive more details and numbers from my husband, I'll be sharing with you an eye-opening, personal report of how mortgage companies are screwing families over across the country. It can't be just us. In fact, after our research, we know it's not just us.
Here's a tease, a reason to tune in a few days from now for more information... What began 2.5 years ago as a request to refinance at a lower, deserved finance rate became our worst nightmare. We're told, over and over and over and over again that we were put into the "wrong department" and that in order to rectify this, we'll have to jump through their hoops. Trust me, if you called my office and scheduled a cleaning and I accidentally (stupidly) scheduled you for a root canal, we'd FIX it. If you scheduled said cleaning with Wells Fargo, you'd HAVE to have the root canal first.
See, they don't fix it. Ask me and I'll tell you my opinion at this point. I honestly have to believe that a few years back, this was a common, intentional scam that may have worked for years. Thank God, I have a husband with a brain and knowledge of the legal wranglings involved. What they've done is illegal at best. What they've put John through is simply criminal.
When you read the number of hours he's spent on the phone with anyone who will listen at Wells Fargo, from the lowly customer service kid to the supervisor's supervisor, you will be floored. It's been a second job.
Here's what. They want paperwork that has been submitted more times than I can count. They want a hardship letter when no hardship exists. We can more than handle our mortgage. We just want them to allow us to pay it. Hell, we paid it for months and months only to receive a slap-in-the-face check in the mail for the amount we'd paid.
Look, we're ready. We'll hire an attorney and have already contacted the state. Thing is, that doesn't erase the shame of having your name in the paper with no explanation of Wells Fargo holding you hostage for years for no good reason. It doesn't help reclaim the hours and hours of time spent on the phone, resubmitting paperwork and tears over the situation.
Like I said, stay tuned for the cold, hard facts. Meanwhile, please, if you care, watch this episode of The Daily Show. It was the first time John and I felt like the TRUTH was being reported and exposed.
It isn't just the Karsons.
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