I was drying my hair this morning when Isaac came in and said "Mom, I need to tell you something!" So I turned off the dryer to listen.
"You can eat apple seeds, but they might give you a tummy ache."
"Oh, OK. I don't wnat a tummy ache, so I won't eat any apple seeds."
"Yeah, don't eat any apple seeds, OK?"
"OK. Would I grow an apple tree in my belly if I ate an apple seed?"
"Well, Bictoria (Victoria) ate an apple seed and an apple tree grew up in her belly!" He said, drawing his finger up his belly to illustrate the growth of the tree.
"Really? What do seeds need to grow in?"
"What?"
"Dirt, right? Is there dirt in Victoria's belly?"
"No, but the seed spit out its own dirt and water and started to grow."
"Seeds also need sunshine to grow. Is there sunshine in Victoria's belly?"
"Her bones made the sunshine and kept her company. And the tree started to grow and grow and it went all the way up (showing me on his own belly chest and neck the growth of the tree) and came out her mouth and we picked the apples and ate them! And Bictoria was a great big apple tree!"
"Did Victoria the apple tree still have pretty red curly hair?"
"Yeah, and she talked!"
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Words of Wisdom from the Wee Man
I don't understand how someone so little can talk so much, so fast, for so long and never take a breath. But, yes, my dad used to tape-record me and I know I did the same thing when I was four, but as a parent...I'm wowed and worn out!
I love all of his "Isaac-isms" and when he grows out of each one, I mourn a little. One "hanger-on" I dearly love is "up-in-the-morning," which is not the same as "morning" it is the time when we are all "up!"
"Mom, can I have a donut before I go to bed?"
"No."
"Can I have one up in the morning?"
"Can I watch my train movie up in the morning?"
**********************************************************************
Lately, he's been talking about what things will be like when he grows up. But he never says, "when I grow up..." he says "when I grow up to be a dad" or "when I'm a dad." I love that, already, being a father someday is a "given" to him. Of course, he's got lots of time to change his mind! We once wondered if the priesthood would be in his future (and it still could be. We don't know God's plans) but the older he gets, although he loves Fr. Jack, he knows for sure he doesn't want that vocation!
His CCD class had a special guest (a seminarian) on Sunday and I asked Isaac lots of questions about the class and what they talked about. He said "that guy who talked to us? He is getting ready to be a priest!" I was impressed that Isaac paid attention, and that the seminarian had told the kids that. I told Isaac that was true, he is going to be a priest and asked him if HE would like to be a priest someday. "Nooooo!" he laughed. Well, OK. "But I do want to be the guy who stands up there and talks in the microphone!" Ah, a lector. That's a good way to minister, too.
************************************************************************
"When I grow up to be a dad, you can come visit me at my house!"
"Well, that's nice of you!"
"You can come over anytime you want!" (I'm sure he'll change his mind on this one!)
"OK, I'll come visit, but I'll call first, OK?"
"OK, you'll say 'can I come over?' and I'll say 'sure!'"
"Thank you for that! I like that I can visit you at your house!"
"Yeah, but you gotta bring dinner."
************************************************************************
Tonight, on the way home, we were listening to one of my mix CD's and there is a Don Henley cover of Warren Zevon's "Seaching for a Heart," to which I was singing along. Isaac said "How come you can't start it like a car or stop it like a gun?" Now do I try to explain metaphors to such a young kid? Hm. I said that love can be hard to explain and it isn't always easy and sometimes we don't understand why we love the people we love, we just do. And when we do love them, it is hard to stop. (or something like that).
"I could stop love. I could stop loving my mom."
(WHAT?!?!)
"Not you, my other mom."
(Ooh! Adoption conversation?!)
"You mean your birth mom?"
"No! My OTHER mom, the one I'll have when I grow up to be a dad."
(Hm...)
"Do you mean your wife?!"
"Yeah!"
(HA!)
"I could stop loving her. I could just say 'you're annoying, I don't love you anymore'."
(OUCH)
"Well, we don't stop loving people just because they annoy us sometimes. Your daddy annoys me sometimes, but I still love him."
"Yeah, you just get mad at him."
*********************************************************************
Isaac has always had good balance and good hand-eye coordination. Like many other nervous parents, I watched all of his early milestones very carefully and he had great fine motor skills very early on - grabbing things, pushing buttons, making things "work," and he walked by the time he was 10 months old. He loves to build and create with his Legos. So, not that you can tell at FIVE...but maybe someday he'll be in engineering or architecture.
Tonight when we were cuddling at bedtime, he told me this long, breathless story about the house he will have when he grows up. In his bedroom, there will be a TV on every wall, so no matter what position he is in, he can comfortably see the screen. Pat and I will both have beds in his house. Pat's will be round and black and mine with be heart-shaped and pink with "sparkly things" on it. I have heard about heart-shaped beds, but never imaged one in my SON'S house!
He said that the dining room table and chairs will be up in the air, so you have to climb a ladder to get up there (I wouldn't want to set THAT table!). I asked him what he would cook for us and he said "scrambled eggs and bacon and biscuits and bread with butter and jelly...YUM! And...soup!"
"What kind of soup?"
"Brown noodle soup."
"What can we have to drink?"
"Coke."
(OF COURSE)
*************************************************************
And finally...Isaac kissed the tip of his thumb and pressed it on my chest while we were talking."There, now you have a kiss-print on your heart!"
I'm a lucky (but often tired) mom!
I love all of his "Isaac-isms" and when he grows out of each one, I mourn a little. One "hanger-on" I dearly love is "up-in-the-morning," which is not the same as "morning" it is the time when we are all "up!"
"Mom, can I have a donut before I go to bed?"
"No."
"Can I have one up in the morning?"
"Can I watch my train movie up in the morning?"
**********************************************************************
Lately, he's been talking about what things will be like when he grows up. But he never says, "when I grow up..." he says "when I grow up to be a dad" or "when I'm a dad." I love that, already, being a father someday is a "given" to him. Of course, he's got lots of time to change his mind! We once wondered if the priesthood would be in his future (and it still could be. We don't know God's plans) but the older he gets, although he loves Fr. Jack, he knows for sure he doesn't want that vocation!
His CCD class had a special guest (a seminarian) on Sunday and I asked Isaac lots of questions about the class and what they talked about. He said "that guy who talked to us? He is getting ready to be a priest!" I was impressed that Isaac paid attention, and that the seminarian had told the kids that. I told Isaac that was true, he is going to be a priest and asked him if HE would like to be a priest someday. "Nooooo!" he laughed. Well, OK. "But I do want to be the guy who stands up there and talks in the microphone!" Ah, a lector. That's a good way to minister, too.
************************************************************************
"When I grow up to be a dad, you can come visit me at my house!"
"Well, that's nice of you!"
"You can come over anytime you want!" (I'm sure he'll change his mind on this one!)
"OK, I'll come visit, but I'll call first, OK?"
"OK, you'll say 'can I come over?' and I'll say 'sure!'"
"Thank you for that! I like that I can visit you at your house!"
"Yeah, but you gotta bring dinner."
************************************************************************
Tonight, on the way home, we were listening to one of my mix CD's and there is a Don Henley cover of Warren Zevon's "Seaching for a Heart," to which I was singing along. Isaac said "How come you can't start it like a car or stop it like a gun?" Now do I try to explain metaphors to such a young kid? Hm. I said that love can be hard to explain and it isn't always easy and sometimes we don't understand why we love the people we love, we just do. And when we do love them, it is hard to stop. (or something like that).
"I could stop love. I could stop loving my mom."
(WHAT?!?!)
"Not you, my other mom."
(Ooh! Adoption conversation?!)
"You mean your birth mom?"
"No! My OTHER mom, the one I'll have when I grow up to be a dad."
(Hm...)
"Do you mean your wife?!"
"Yeah!"
(HA!)
"I could stop loving her. I could just say 'you're annoying, I don't love you anymore'."
(OUCH)
"Well, we don't stop loving people just because they annoy us sometimes. Your daddy annoys me sometimes, but I still love him."
"Yeah, you just get mad at him."
*********************************************************************
Isaac has always had good balance and good hand-eye coordination. Like many other nervous parents, I watched all of his early milestones very carefully and he had great fine motor skills very early on - grabbing things, pushing buttons, making things "work," and he walked by the time he was 10 months old. He loves to build and create with his Legos. So, not that you can tell at FIVE...but maybe someday he'll be in engineering or architecture.
Tonight when we were cuddling at bedtime, he told me this long, breathless story about the house he will have when he grows up. In his bedroom, there will be a TV on every wall, so no matter what position he is in, he can comfortably see the screen. Pat and I will both have beds in his house. Pat's will be round and black and mine with be heart-shaped and pink with "sparkly things" on it. I have heard about heart-shaped beds, but never imaged one in my SON'S house!
He said that the dining room table and chairs will be up in the air, so you have to climb a ladder to get up there (I wouldn't want to set THAT table!). I asked him what he would cook for us and he said "scrambled eggs and bacon and biscuits and bread with butter and jelly...YUM! And...soup!"
"What kind of soup?"
"Brown noodle soup."
"What can we have to drink?"
"Coke."
(OF COURSE)
*************************************************************
And finally...Isaac kissed the tip of his thumb and pressed it on my chest while we were talking."There, now you have a kiss-print on your heart!"
I'm a lucky (but often tired) mom!
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Good, Bad and Ugly...the weekend saga.
Good:
On Friday night, we attended a fund raiser to start a special education department in one (and hopefully, one day, all) elementary school in the Diocese of Tulsa. ETL (where I work) will be providing some of the training for the teachers and staff and my employer sponsored our table at the fund rasier. It was a music trivia night and I would have paid for my spot at the table and gone even if my employer had not been so generous...it was a blast!
We had David, Angela, Tom, Kathleen, Rusty and Kathleen's mom, Nancy as our tablemates/teammates. There were 10 rounds of "Name that Tune" and trivia questions. My husband is a ROCK GOD! (No offense, since this was a Church event!) I knew he was an awesome source of musical knowledge, but he impressed everyone last night! (I thought I did OK, myself, but I was the one filling out our answer forms, and it was hard to decide which answer to put down when the whole table was not in 100% agreement. I learned to listen to Tom - but not to David. HA!) There were probably 60 teams and we tied for 4th. We were in first place after the 8th round of play and had high hopes, since each member of the #1 team won an iPod, but the 9th round was FIGHT SONGS. Oh for the love of...fight songs??? C'mon! But, to be fair, a lot of the players in their 60s and 70s rocked that round (and only that round...) And for bonus points on that round, "name the year the school was founded" um, sure...easy. I only know Missouri and I only know that because it is on my t-shirt! (And Missouri was not one of the answers, though I thought it was!)
But it was all for FUN, even though we're pretty competitive. It would have been nice to at least nudge our ways up into 3rd place to take home some kind of prize. I loved hanging out with friends and we had a lot of laughs. A lot of laughs and a lot of drinks. David was so funny. Halfway through the evening he announced he was becoming Catholic because Catholics like to drink. Later, after one of the announcers got a little rowdy on stage, he discovered we like to cuss, too! His kind of Church, apparently.
And yes, there was drinking. For me, there was a lot of drinking. I won't go into details for privacy reasons, but I've had some rough days at the office lately and it felt really good to cut loose and unwind.
Also good was Saturday...when Pat let me sleep in! Then we got a late start on going over to the Train Show in Bixby. I don't know how well I would do living in any of Tulsa's "surrounding areas" even Bixby felt like FOREVER to get to. It was just a lot closer when I was a kid and we were starting out at 81st and Memorial instead of now, when we were starting out at 12th and Harvard!
The show was um...interesting. These "model train enthusiasts" don't mess around. It was fun to watch Isaac's eyes as he walked around in his own little train paradise. But curious eyes lead to curious hands and a serious case of "I want"s and after the severalist time of saying "we look with our eyes, not with our hands" and "hands down, please," we just had to go.
We had lunch at Ron's and enjoyed some Spanish fries, a treat I can only indulge in once a year or so. Then we stopped at Wal-Mart (nothing about Wal-Mart belongs anywhere NEAR the "GOOD" category, but I don't want to lose my flow) to pick up Isaac's birthday party invitations and a few necessities and ended up getting back to the sane side of town way later than anticipated.
Saturday night was "Mom's night off," but I didn't feel like going anywhere. I thought about maybe taking a book or my paper journal to Starbucks, but after the Spanish fries, my tummy was in no shape to handle coffee, so I holed up in the bedroom with the dogs, messed around on the computer, listened to Bruce Springsteen and Mat Kearney and the thunderstorm outside.
We went to church today and instead of Sunday School, they had a special program for the kids. Several years ago, in response to the abuse allegations, the Church started the Virtus program of training for all people who work with kids. I did the training when I worked at St. Vincent de Paul. Now they have the flipside of the training for the kids. We read all of the information when the Church sent it to us several weeks ago and we are really glad the Church is offering this. Pat, with his experience as a Social Worker, was especially impressed.
Of course the training is broken down by ages and Isaac's class, today, talked about "safe adults" and "SPECIAL safe adults" and the difference between the two. They talked about "good touches" and "bad touches" and what to do if someone touches them in a way they don't like. They gave him a coloring sheet "Passport" to work on and he drew a picture of us on the front. The instructions on the inside said to draw pictures of his "safe adults" and he drew pictures of robots in all of those spaces. Um...OK! I'm all down with freedom of expression.
We reviewed with him a few times during the day and he responded appropriately every time, i.e. for a bad touch "leave me alone!" "I don't like that!" "No!" and "I have to go now!" and said that if anyone (even another kid) touched him in a way he didn't like, he would come tell us or the police.
It was "Momma & Isaac Day" (when Pat works) which usually means an outing, but Isaac was super-content playing with his trains after church, so I let him do that while I read the paper. But we needed a few groceries (so much for Saturday's Wal-Mart "necessities") and batteries one of his trains and we had been talking about taking Sammy to the dog park. Oh, and I had forgotten to do something on Friday at work that we could quickly stop by and take care of.
The dog park was a super-cool place. For dogs. And dog owners over the age of 12. Sammy ran himself silly and slobbery and sleepy. Even though our yard is large, it is full of toys and trees and other obstacles. At the dog park, he had a whole baseball field where he could just R-U-N. And he loved it. And I loved that he loved it.
Back home to unload, then pick Pat up at work. I made some of my most successful fried chicken for dinner (I still don't make it as well as I like) meaning that the chicken was cooked through and the crust was nice and brown. The mashed potatoes were soooo good, but with weather in the 70's this week, I don't think I'll be making the leftovers into potato soup (too bad for David!)
Dinner was late, there was a lot of housework to get done, but my kitchen is clean, my favorite comforter was washed with lots of Downy, then hung in the little bit of sunshine and lot of wind we had today to dry and it awaits me on the bed with a man who is NOT snoring (yay!) and a boxer who will dream of running tonight.
Bad:
My stepmother, Betty is in the hospital. A little bit of backstory? Betty is a life-long heavy smoker. She has already lost two sisters to cancer and heart disease and a third sister has required full-time oxygen for the last 5 years. Betty was diagnosed with congestive heart failure almost 5 years ago. She has COPD and emphysema. She has lost a ton of weight and she was always a very thin woman. She looks like a skeleton wearing skin. And her skin looks terrible and scary because her circulation is so bad. OK, end of backstory.
Betty started coming down with a cold around the same time as the Bruce Springsteen concert - April 7. They watched Isaac that night and I hoped he hadn't gotten her sick. I talked with her last Saturday and she said something about still trying to get over it. Dad called on Thursday and apologized profusely that they would not be able to watch Isaac for us for Friday night's trivia fundraiser, because she was still sick. I asked him if she had been to the doctor and he said something about that being a good idea and he would suggest it (sarcasm is a family trait). I guess he had been trying all week to get her to go to the doctor. She has really been having a hard time breathing.
Dad took Betty to the emergency room Friday afternoon and after hours of tests and a CAT scan of her lungs to rule out a pulmonary embolism, they decided to admit her for further observation. She did NOT have a P.E. (thank God). But her heart rate was in the 180's and she couldn't breathe. They have had her on IV meds to keep her heart rate down, IV steroids for her lungs and breathing treatments. Today, they told her that she will need to stay on supplemental oxygen for the rest of her life. Dad is trying to come to grips with that in a "male" way, focusing on equipment and tanks and technology. Things he CAN do something about and that's probably a good thing.
When we moved back to Tulsa in '05, I remember Dad trying to prepare me for Betty's decline. Her doctor told her she would be dead in two years if she didn't quit smoking. She has not quit for longer than a few weeks at a time since then. I do not claim to understand the mind of an addict and I struggle with how she could let herself go like this, especially when she has so much to live for and when there appears to be so many new therapies to help people who want to quit smoking. I am very sad for my dad because he has seen this coming and he wants and deserves the retirement he has worked so hard for: to travel and enjoy life with Betty, but she does not want to travel, nor is she healthy enough to and I'm concerned that this is the inevitable beginning of the end.
That, of course, brings up the whole aging parents thing we are so new to dealing with. I am getting a little better at it, I think. I feel less like "I can't do this! I'm just a kid!" but I am very sad to see this part of my life coming so soon. Pat's step-dad is our oldest parent at 70 (and probably the healthiest, next to my Dad) and I had hoped for another ten years or more of good health for ALL of our parents. I really want them to be around for Isaac! I knew, starting my family late, that he might not have as much time with his grandparents as I had with mine, but I want him to have several more years of building memories with them! I appreciate your thoughts and prayers for Betty.
Also Kinda Bad:
We have been able to rely on Dad to watch Isaac for us on the sorta-rare occasion that we go out. In the back of my head, I'm always thinking we need a "Plan B," as this week proved. We don't have a sitter. I would not even know how to go about getting one, especially on late notice. Besides, my house is a mess since I've been sick all week and I have issues with a total stranger being in my home and watching my kid. Several of my coworkers have used and recommended the "drop off" child care places. Without their recommendation, I would N-E-V-E-R even consider leaving Isaac there! It just seems wrong and I can't even fully express why.
Well, one reason why is parental guilt. We would be picking him up from one child care situation and dropping him right back into another one. It is different if he is spending the evening with his grandparents. He is having fun, getting spoiled and bonding with them, building those family memories and relationships. But with strangers? I couldn't see it. But Krista was not available, Mom is too far away (and I swore I would never leave my kid with her unsupervised and I stand by that!) and I thought about asking Ms. Kelley from his school if she could do it, but she lives kind of far, too and has four kids of her own. So...we went and checked out the "Tot Spot."
I was worried that Isaac would not want to stay there. He is fine with drop off at school in the morning (most mornings - sometimes he is a little clingy) but we have a hard time getting him to go to Sunday School or the church nursery, although he is familiar with the friends and teachers there. I thought it would be nearly impossible to leave him at the Tot Spot, but when we checked it out Thursday night, he didn't want to go home. They are accredited, all of the teachers have all of the background checks and CPR/first aid and some continuing education in child development (the girl working there Thursday night that we talked with is a college student). Very comparable to his daycare center/Pre-K.
They always have a kid-friendly movie playing in a corner with some comfy kid furniture, there were 3 computers for games, a play house, some play equipment over a padded floor, and lots and lots of toys. Isaac was more than cool with that! So we sprung for 10 hours pre-paid for $35.00 and got our night out and have another night coming to us for dinner and a movie sometime!
Oh, so you're still waiting for the "bad" part, right? Well, when we went to pick him up, I noticed that the lights were low inside. They had said that at 9pm, they start trying to settle the kids down to watch a movie or whatever until parents pick up (they are open until midnight on weekends). I wondered, and actually thought, that Isaac would probably have fallen asleep since we were picking him up around 10:15 and it is very rare that he is ever up past 9:00 and I knew he hadn't had a nap that day.
I waited in the car while Pat went inside to get Isaac and I saw my monkey playing happily on top of one of the play structures, very much awake! As he was leaving, he went into the "snack area" (they have two vending machines) and came out grinning and carrying a 20 oz bottle of Coke, half EMPTY! I know my jaw dropped. He knew what he was doing, too. He took off the cap and took a swig with me watching him and I swear he even did a little triumphant dance! The stinker! I know having your kid all loaded up on sugar and caffiene at 10:15 at night is far from a tragedy, but he has never had more than a small sip here or there of caffienated soda! Ten ounces of full-power Coke? You could see the energy coming off of him in sparks! The teacher told Pat that Isaac waited until AFTER being allowed to purchase his snack and drink that he was not allowed to have caffiene. He was so proud of himself for getting one over on us. I remember that feeling. Having a sitter meant that we might get to watch a TV show or movie that might otherwise be forbidden, or we might get to stay up past our bedtimes, as long as we were in bed when Mom and Dad got home.
Isaac was furious with me when I took his Coke away. I didn't really get onto him for having it, I was just focused on what we were going to do with him when we got him home. We were tired and I'd had a few beers and we were anticipating picking up a sleeping, or at least, sleep-y, kid. There's one for you new parents or parents-to-be. Kids will teach you that you can't anticipate anything. Stay on your toes!
We let him play with his trains for a bit when we got home to wind down, then I put him in bed with me. There was nothing on TV, and definitely nothing he would be interested in watching, so I turned it off and we talked. It reminded me of sleepovers with my cousins or friends when I was growing up, just rambling on and on and drifting in and out of consciousness. I fell asleep a few times when he was still talking. He finally announced that he was going to sleep, curled up against my side, and that was it. And that was good. I don't know how late it was, but Pat came in around 2 and put Isaac in his own bed. I heard a few sleepy protests, but he did fine. I hope he sleeps late this morning, though I don't anticipate that he will.
Ugly:
OK, NOW Pat is snoring...but that's not really ugly. I'll roll him over when I get in bed.
I wanted to go see Betty last night. I know she is OK. She has cable and her Kindle, so she has stuff to watch and read. To tell you the truth, that's all she does at home anyway. Watch TV, read, smoke and sleep. She gets out of the house once a week these days, if that. But I wanted to go see her because THAT'S WHAT YOU DO. For God's sake! One of your parents, someone who helped raise you and shape you into the person you are today. The "mother" who out "mothered" your own mother...you GO to the hospital when she is in the hospital.
But not if she doesn't want you there.
And she does not want me there.
I called Dad last night to check on her and almost said "well, I'm getting ready to leave the house, I'll be there in about 20 minutes, what can I bring you?" when what I did say was, "can I come see her, would that be OK?" And it wasn't OK. She has had no visitors but Dad and that's how she wants it. I respect that, I really do. She is the one who is sick, she needs to get better on her own terms. Brenda (Betty's daughter) hasn't been up there either.
But it does feel a bit like rejection.
I talked with Dad tonight and he said he wanted to make sure I was not offended because Betty did not want me up there. I told him that was fine, she needs to be comfortable and if she is comfortable with no visitors, that's fine. BUT...
"When and if YOU ever end up in the hospital, I WILL be there, no matter what you have to say about it!"
He chuckled and said that was ok, he expected that.
Another uncomfortable thing in the inevitable aging of the parents...the STEP parents and STEP siblings. We've all come a long way and a lot of years from the "you're not my REAL mom" days and I don't even like making the designation anymore. Betty is one of my moms. Brenda is my sister. But I know the designation will be made at some point, if ya know what I mean. If Dad were gravely ill and Betty were healthy? I totally anticipate it would come to some kind of fight as far as my involvement was concerned. Same thing if anything happened to Mom and her husband were healthy. We have already experienced some ups and downs with Betty, especially in the year Dad lived in Houston. Telling us we don't see how tired Dad gets and we don't know what a front he puts on when he doesn't feel well.
Um, sorry. I have been his daughter my whole life. I am his flesh and blood. You married him in 1985. I'm going to be a brat about this, so Katy, bar the door.
But, as it happens, Betty is sick, Dad is well. Mom is OK and her husband is ill.
Last night I had two connected and very troubling dreams. In the first, Zac (Brenda's son) came to us and told us that Betty had passed away. We were at Dad's house and were all very upset. Then Dad brought Betty home from the hospital and she was very much alive (but sick). It was just a case of miscommunication.
Then I dreamt that I needed to get to the funeral home because my mom had died, and the only way I could get there was for one of my dad's friends to take me. My dad has this friend. I guess it is pretty common that there is a friend of the family or an uncle or cousin once removed who is just...creepy. A little too close, always wanting hugs and kisses, always teasing and being completely lecherous (and no, I'm not spell checking...deal). My dad's friend is like that. When I was little I thought he was OK, but as soon as I hit puberty, I thought "WHOA! What a jerk! Keep me away from that dude!" which was hard because his daughter was one of my best friends...but I digress.
So, it was THAT friend who was taking me to the funeral home. And he kept trying to "comfort" me in the car and I couldn't get away from him and he had to stop at his house for something and wanted me to come inside. Then the dream jumped (like dreams do) and I was in a little garden by a stream with some of Mom's relatives. It was a beautiful setting and we were all looking at the programs from her funeral. I felt kind of numb, but not sad. Just dealing with it all. Very disconnected, almost business-like.
My cell phone rang and it was my therapist. She asked me if my mom's name was Karen A.___ and I told her it was and she asked if she had recently passed away. I told her yes and she said she'd seen the obituary in the paper and offered her condolences. I thanked her and made a comment about "we don't need to talk about my mother anymore, she's dead." (For the record - and maybe for another post - my therapist and I don't discuss my mother, though I anticipated that we would. We do discuss my relationship with my mother and what it has and hasn't been through the years). My therapist said that we definitely DID need to discuss my mother. It was more important now than ever.
When I woke up, I didn't want to get up. I didn't want to go back to sleep either. I just wanted to lie there and snuggle with Sammy and rub his stubby little nose and stroke his silky ears and not think about anything more profound than dog noses and dog ears.
On Friday night, we attended a fund raiser to start a special education department in one (and hopefully, one day, all) elementary school in the Diocese of Tulsa. ETL (where I work) will be providing some of the training for the teachers and staff and my employer sponsored our table at the fund rasier. It was a music trivia night and I would have paid for my spot at the table and gone even if my employer had not been so generous...it was a blast!
We had David, Angela, Tom, Kathleen, Rusty and Kathleen's mom, Nancy as our tablemates/teammates. There were 10 rounds of "Name that Tune" and trivia questions. My husband is a ROCK GOD! (No offense, since this was a Church event!) I knew he was an awesome source of musical knowledge, but he impressed everyone last night! (I thought I did OK, myself, but I was the one filling out our answer forms, and it was hard to decide which answer to put down when the whole table was not in 100% agreement. I learned to listen to Tom - but not to David. HA!) There were probably 60 teams and we tied for 4th. We were in first place after the 8th round of play and had high hopes, since each member of the #1 team won an iPod, but the 9th round was FIGHT SONGS. Oh for the love of...fight songs??? C'mon! But, to be fair, a lot of the players in their 60s and 70s rocked that round (and only that round...) And for bonus points on that round, "name the year the school was founded" um, sure...easy. I only know Missouri and I only know that because it is on my t-shirt! (And Missouri was not one of the answers, though I thought it was!)
But it was all for FUN, even though we're pretty competitive. It would have been nice to at least nudge our ways up into 3rd place to take home some kind of prize. I loved hanging out with friends and we had a lot of laughs. A lot of laughs and a lot of drinks. David was so funny. Halfway through the evening he announced he was becoming Catholic because Catholics like to drink. Later, after one of the announcers got a little rowdy on stage, he discovered we like to cuss, too! His kind of Church, apparently.
And yes, there was drinking. For me, there was a lot of drinking. I won't go into details for privacy reasons, but I've had some rough days at the office lately and it felt really good to cut loose and unwind.
Also good was Saturday...when Pat let me sleep in! Then we got a late start on going over to the Train Show in Bixby. I don't know how well I would do living in any of Tulsa's "surrounding areas" even Bixby felt like FOREVER to get to. It was just a lot closer when I was a kid and we were starting out at 81st and Memorial instead of now, when we were starting out at 12th and Harvard!
The show was um...interesting. These "model train enthusiasts" don't mess around. It was fun to watch Isaac's eyes as he walked around in his own little train paradise. But curious eyes lead to curious hands and a serious case of "I want"s and after the severalist time of saying "we look with our eyes, not with our hands" and "hands down, please," we just had to go.
We had lunch at Ron's and enjoyed some Spanish fries, a treat I can only indulge in once a year or so. Then we stopped at Wal-Mart (nothing about Wal-Mart belongs anywhere NEAR the "GOOD" category, but I don't want to lose my flow) to pick up Isaac's birthday party invitations and a few necessities and ended up getting back to the sane side of town way later than anticipated.
Saturday night was "Mom's night off," but I didn't feel like going anywhere. I thought about maybe taking a book or my paper journal to Starbucks, but after the Spanish fries, my tummy was in no shape to handle coffee, so I holed up in the bedroom with the dogs, messed around on the computer, listened to Bruce Springsteen and Mat Kearney and the thunderstorm outside.
We went to church today and instead of Sunday School, they had a special program for the kids. Several years ago, in response to the abuse allegations, the Church started the Virtus program of training for all people who work with kids. I did the training when I worked at St. Vincent de Paul. Now they have the flipside of the training for the kids. We read all of the information when the Church sent it to us several weeks ago and we are really glad the Church is offering this. Pat, with his experience as a Social Worker, was especially impressed.
Of course the training is broken down by ages and Isaac's class, today, talked about "safe adults" and "SPECIAL safe adults" and the difference between the two. They talked about "good touches" and "bad touches" and what to do if someone touches them in a way they don't like. They gave him a coloring sheet "Passport" to work on and he drew a picture of us on the front. The instructions on the inside said to draw pictures of his "safe adults" and he drew pictures of robots in all of those spaces. Um...OK! I'm all down with freedom of expression.
We reviewed with him a few times during the day and he responded appropriately every time, i.e. for a bad touch "leave me alone!" "I don't like that!" "No!" and "I have to go now!" and said that if anyone (even another kid) touched him in a way he didn't like, he would come tell us or the police.
It was "Momma & Isaac Day" (when Pat works) which usually means an outing, but Isaac was super-content playing with his trains after church, so I let him do that while I read the paper. But we needed a few groceries (so much for Saturday's Wal-Mart "necessities") and batteries one of his trains and we had been talking about taking Sammy to the dog park. Oh, and I had forgotten to do something on Friday at work that we could quickly stop by and take care of.
The dog park was a super-cool place. For dogs. And dog owners over the age of 12. Sammy ran himself silly and slobbery and sleepy. Even though our yard is large, it is full of toys and trees and other obstacles. At the dog park, he had a whole baseball field where he could just R-U-N. And he loved it. And I loved that he loved it.
Back home to unload, then pick Pat up at work. I made some of my most successful fried chicken for dinner (I still don't make it as well as I like) meaning that the chicken was cooked through and the crust was nice and brown. The mashed potatoes were soooo good, but with weather in the 70's this week, I don't think I'll be making the leftovers into potato soup (too bad for David!)
Dinner was late, there was a lot of housework to get done, but my kitchen is clean, my favorite comforter was washed with lots of Downy, then hung in the little bit of sunshine and lot of wind we had today to dry and it awaits me on the bed with a man who is NOT snoring (yay!) and a boxer who will dream of running tonight.
Bad:
My stepmother, Betty is in the hospital. A little bit of backstory? Betty is a life-long heavy smoker. She has already lost two sisters to cancer and heart disease and a third sister has required full-time oxygen for the last 5 years. Betty was diagnosed with congestive heart failure almost 5 years ago. She has COPD and emphysema. She has lost a ton of weight and she was always a very thin woman. She looks like a skeleton wearing skin. And her skin looks terrible and scary because her circulation is so bad. OK, end of backstory.
Betty started coming down with a cold around the same time as the Bruce Springsteen concert - April 7. They watched Isaac that night and I hoped he hadn't gotten her sick. I talked with her last Saturday and she said something about still trying to get over it. Dad called on Thursday and apologized profusely that they would not be able to watch Isaac for us for Friday night's trivia fundraiser, because she was still sick. I asked him if she had been to the doctor and he said something about that being a good idea and he would suggest it (sarcasm is a family trait). I guess he had been trying all week to get her to go to the doctor. She has really been having a hard time breathing.
Dad took Betty to the emergency room Friday afternoon and after hours of tests and a CAT scan of her lungs to rule out a pulmonary embolism, they decided to admit her for further observation. She did NOT have a P.E. (thank God). But her heart rate was in the 180's and she couldn't breathe. They have had her on IV meds to keep her heart rate down, IV steroids for her lungs and breathing treatments. Today, they told her that she will need to stay on supplemental oxygen for the rest of her life. Dad is trying to come to grips with that in a "male" way, focusing on equipment and tanks and technology. Things he CAN do something about and that's probably a good thing.
When we moved back to Tulsa in '05, I remember Dad trying to prepare me for Betty's decline. Her doctor told her she would be dead in two years if she didn't quit smoking. She has not quit for longer than a few weeks at a time since then. I do not claim to understand the mind of an addict and I struggle with how she could let herself go like this, especially when she has so much to live for and when there appears to be so many new therapies to help people who want to quit smoking. I am very sad for my dad because he has seen this coming and he wants and deserves the retirement he has worked so hard for: to travel and enjoy life with Betty, but she does not want to travel, nor is she healthy enough to and I'm concerned that this is the inevitable beginning of the end.
That, of course, brings up the whole aging parents thing we are so new to dealing with. I am getting a little better at it, I think. I feel less like "I can't do this! I'm just a kid!" but I am very sad to see this part of my life coming so soon. Pat's step-dad is our oldest parent at 70 (and probably the healthiest, next to my Dad) and I had hoped for another ten years or more of good health for ALL of our parents. I really want them to be around for Isaac! I knew, starting my family late, that he might not have as much time with his grandparents as I had with mine, but I want him to have several more years of building memories with them! I appreciate your thoughts and prayers for Betty.
Also Kinda Bad:
We have been able to rely on Dad to watch Isaac for us on the sorta-rare occasion that we go out. In the back of my head, I'm always thinking we need a "Plan B," as this week proved. We don't have a sitter. I would not even know how to go about getting one, especially on late notice. Besides, my house is a mess since I've been sick all week and I have issues with a total stranger being in my home and watching my kid. Several of my coworkers have used and recommended the "drop off" child care places. Without their recommendation, I would N-E-V-E-R even consider leaving Isaac there! It just seems wrong and I can't even fully express why.
Well, one reason why is parental guilt. We would be picking him up from one child care situation and dropping him right back into another one. It is different if he is spending the evening with his grandparents. He is having fun, getting spoiled and bonding with them, building those family memories and relationships. But with strangers? I couldn't see it. But Krista was not available, Mom is too far away (and I swore I would never leave my kid with her unsupervised and I stand by that!) and I thought about asking Ms. Kelley from his school if she could do it, but she lives kind of far, too and has four kids of her own. So...we went and checked out the "Tot Spot."
I was worried that Isaac would not want to stay there. He is fine with drop off at school in the morning (most mornings - sometimes he is a little clingy) but we have a hard time getting him to go to Sunday School or the church nursery, although he is familiar with the friends and teachers there. I thought it would be nearly impossible to leave him at the Tot Spot, but when we checked it out Thursday night, he didn't want to go home. They are accredited, all of the teachers have all of the background checks and CPR/first aid and some continuing education in child development (the girl working there Thursday night that we talked with is a college student). Very comparable to his daycare center/Pre-K.
They always have a kid-friendly movie playing in a corner with some comfy kid furniture, there were 3 computers for games, a play house, some play equipment over a padded floor, and lots and lots of toys. Isaac was more than cool with that! So we sprung for 10 hours pre-paid for $35.00 and got our night out and have another night coming to us for dinner and a movie sometime!
Oh, so you're still waiting for the "bad" part, right? Well, when we went to pick him up, I noticed that the lights were low inside. They had said that at 9pm, they start trying to settle the kids down to watch a movie or whatever until parents pick up (they are open until midnight on weekends). I wondered, and actually thought, that Isaac would probably have fallen asleep since we were picking him up around 10:15 and it is very rare that he is ever up past 9:00 and I knew he hadn't had a nap that day.
I waited in the car while Pat went inside to get Isaac and I saw my monkey playing happily on top of one of the play structures, very much awake! As he was leaving, he went into the "snack area" (they have two vending machines) and came out grinning and carrying a 20 oz bottle of Coke, half EMPTY! I know my jaw dropped. He knew what he was doing, too. He took off the cap and took a swig with me watching him and I swear he even did a little triumphant dance! The stinker! I know having your kid all loaded up on sugar and caffiene at 10:15 at night is far from a tragedy, but he has never had more than a small sip here or there of caffienated soda! Ten ounces of full-power Coke? You could see the energy coming off of him in sparks! The teacher told Pat that Isaac waited until AFTER being allowed to purchase his snack and drink that he was not allowed to have caffiene. He was so proud of himself for getting one over on us. I remember that feeling. Having a sitter meant that we might get to watch a TV show or movie that might otherwise be forbidden, or we might get to stay up past our bedtimes, as long as we were in bed when Mom and Dad got home.
Isaac was furious with me when I took his Coke away. I didn't really get onto him for having it, I was just focused on what we were going to do with him when we got him home. We were tired and I'd had a few beers and we were anticipating picking up a sleeping, or at least, sleep-y, kid. There's one for you new parents or parents-to-be. Kids will teach you that you can't anticipate anything. Stay on your toes!
We let him play with his trains for a bit when we got home to wind down, then I put him in bed with me. There was nothing on TV, and definitely nothing he would be interested in watching, so I turned it off and we talked. It reminded me of sleepovers with my cousins or friends when I was growing up, just rambling on and on and drifting in and out of consciousness. I fell asleep a few times when he was still talking. He finally announced that he was going to sleep, curled up against my side, and that was it. And that was good. I don't know how late it was, but Pat came in around 2 and put Isaac in his own bed. I heard a few sleepy protests, but he did fine. I hope he sleeps late this morning, though I don't anticipate that he will.
Ugly:
OK, NOW Pat is snoring...but that's not really ugly. I'll roll him over when I get in bed.
I wanted to go see Betty last night. I know she is OK. She has cable and her Kindle, so she has stuff to watch and read. To tell you the truth, that's all she does at home anyway. Watch TV, read, smoke and sleep. She gets out of the house once a week these days, if that. But I wanted to go see her because THAT'S WHAT YOU DO. For God's sake! One of your parents, someone who helped raise you and shape you into the person you are today. The "mother" who out "mothered" your own mother...you GO to the hospital when she is in the hospital.
But not if she doesn't want you there.
And she does not want me there.
I called Dad last night to check on her and almost said "well, I'm getting ready to leave the house, I'll be there in about 20 minutes, what can I bring you?" when what I did say was, "can I come see her, would that be OK?" And it wasn't OK. She has had no visitors but Dad and that's how she wants it. I respect that, I really do. She is the one who is sick, she needs to get better on her own terms. Brenda (Betty's daughter) hasn't been up there either.
But it does feel a bit like rejection.
I talked with Dad tonight and he said he wanted to make sure I was not offended because Betty did not want me up there. I told him that was fine, she needs to be comfortable and if she is comfortable with no visitors, that's fine. BUT...
"When and if YOU ever end up in the hospital, I WILL be there, no matter what you have to say about it!"
He chuckled and said that was ok, he expected that.
Another uncomfortable thing in the inevitable aging of the parents...the STEP parents and STEP siblings. We've all come a long way and a lot of years from the "you're not my REAL mom" days and I don't even like making the designation anymore. Betty is one of my moms. Brenda is my sister. But I know the designation will be made at some point, if ya know what I mean. If Dad were gravely ill and Betty were healthy? I totally anticipate it would come to some kind of fight as far as my involvement was concerned. Same thing if anything happened to Mom and her husband were healthy. We have already experienced some ups and downs with Betty, especially in the year Dad lived in Houston. Telling us we don't see how tired Dad gets and we don't know what a front he puts on when he doesn't feel well.
Um, sorry. I have been his daughter my whole life. I am his flesh and blood. You married him in 1985. I'm going to be a brat about this, so Katy, bar the door.
But, as it happens, Betty is sick, Dad is well. Mom is OK and her husband is ill.
Last night I had two connected and very troubling dreams. In the first, Zac (Brenda's son) came to us and told us that Betty had passed away. We were at Dad's house and were all very upset. Then Dad brought Betty home from the hospital and she was very much alive (but sick). It was just a case of miscommunication.
Then I dreamt that I needed to get to the funeral home because my mom had died, and the only way I could get there was for one of my dad's friends to take me. My dad has this friend. I guess it is pretty common that there is a friend of the family or an uncle or cousin once removed who is just...creepy. A little too close, always wanting hugs and kisses, always teasing and being completely lecherous (and no, I'm not spell checking...deal). My dad's friend is like that. When I was little I thought he was OK, but as soon as I hit puberty, I thought "WHOA! What a jerk! Keep me away from that dude!" which was hard because his daughter was one of my best friends...but I digress.
So, it was THAT friend who was taking me to the funeral home. And he kept trying to "comfort" me in the car and I couldn't get away from him and he had to stop at his house for something and wanted me to come inside. Then the dream jumped (like dreams do) and I was in a little garden by a stream with some of Mom's relatives. It was a beautiful setting and we were all looking at the programs from her funeral. I felt kind of numb, but not sad. Just dealing with it all. Very disconnected, almost business-like.
My cell phone rang and it was my therapist. She asked me if my mom's name was Karen A.___ and I told her it was and she asked if she had recently passed away. I told her yes and she said she'd seen the obituary in the paper and offered her condolences. I thanked her and made a comment about "we don't need to talk about my mother anymore, she's dead." (For the record - and maybe for another post - my therapist and I don't discuss my mother, though I anticipated that we would. We do discuss my relationship with my mother and what it has and hasn't been through the years). My therapist said that we definitely DID need to discuss my mother. It was more important now than ever.
When I woke up, I didn't want to get up. I didn't want to go back to sleep either. I just wanted to lie there and snuggle with Sammy and rub his stubby little nose and stroke his silky ears and not think about anything more profound than dog noses and dog ears.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Springsteen (Originally written April 13, 2009)
I got up, showered, got dressed, dried my hair, did my make-up, got my family around (on time for a change!), dropped Pat off at work, dropped Isaac off at school, stopped at Sonic for a "Croisonic" and a big ol' iced tea and got to work with 8 minutes to spare. I had an in-box on the precipice of an avalance, roughly 175 monthly reports to get out (that were due on Friday), 30-something service plans to proof, weekly paperwork to complete for billing and a teacher on his way to work on 3 past-due service plans. I got the sad news that one of D's individuals is on life support after being taken off one of his meds cold turkey (hoping the doctor did it for a good reason) and instead of taking a day off, which D really needed, he was on the road to go offer support to that individual's family, friends, roommates and staff. And although we were already down 2 in the office...I got sent home. For a cold.
I know this cold is contagious because Betty has it, Isaac had it, Pat is getting it, and even Sammy, our boxer, has a runny nose. It is just a cold, but it is spreading like wildfire. My last 2 colds turned in to bronchitis or worse, so although I figured my coworkers would hate me for it (but would they hate me more if they caught my cold?), I allowed myself to be sent home. Steph really wasn't giving me a choice. She put her foot down, and although it is a small foot, I didn't fight her much.
I came home and slept for 3 hours or so, with Sammy curled up against me and snoring away. The sleep is good for my cold, but my back is aching from it. Time to get up and do something for a while. Like write. About the Springsteen concert I attended last week. Because I haven't written about it yet, except in brief form over at Facebook.
Back in high school, when I was a junior or a senior, I was a member of that fine organization, the Columbia Record and Tape Club. Long before I had even heard of a CD player, I got my 15 tapes for a penny, or whatever their spiel was. Then I had to remember to send the card back every month or get charged for the selection of the month. One month, I forgot (OK, MORE than one month, I forgot...) but one month in particular, I forgot and became the proud owner of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band Live: 1975-1985. Now, I don't recall if I tore the cellophane off that boxed set immediately with eagerness to pop that first cassette into my boom box or not. But I did listen. After all, some of my aunts and uncles were big Springsteen fans and they were pretty cool, so this had to be good, too.
I had no idea.
I wore those tapes out. And once they were worn out, I put them back in the original box with the liner notes and that box is out in the garage, carefully packed away with a lot of other things I treasure. I loved that Bruce and the E Street Band had such history together and they really seemed like buddies just laid back and enjoying themselves. I loved his song-writing ability. He could sound as gravelly and constipated as he wanted to, he could WRITE a SONG. I wrote a paper about the song "Thunder Road" in my senior English class. I received an "A" and, in red ink, praise because my teacher was also a big fan. I had no idea...she didn't seem the "type" and this just made her that more cool in my eyes, and I already really admired her.
Two years after that senior year, I met a guy at a party. When he asked me what kind of music I liked, I was unable to name any recent stuff that I really listened to (it was pre-grunge...what can I say?). I did mention Springsteen and Bob Dylan. His eyes widened. He later admitted his previous girlfriend did not know who Bob Dylan was (nor could she name all 4 Beatles) -- this was a travesty for a guy who is so into music -- it is a good thing that he didn't marry that girl, as badly as she wanted him to. Six months later, I went to see Bob Dylan in concert with that guy and 19 years later, he escorted me to see Springsteen.
I was so tired on concert night. I had two straight days with three teachers trying to get monthly reports out. I would have rather gone home and gone to bed. But Springsteen! Come on! I could pull it together for that! I had been so excited when I got the tickets! Where had that excitement gone?! It returned with a vengance as the house lights dimmed and I heard that familiar voice echo to the roof of the arena "IS ANYONE ALIVE OUT THERE TONIGHT?!"
He opened the show with "Badlands," and we were all on our feet. I'll admit, like many others in the audience, I was not familiar with every song on the set list. I've been an amateur fan at best. Sometimes, yes, I wish that closed captioning was available on the Jumbo Tron; the band was loud, the crowd was loud, and in the end, it didn't matter, it was a hell of a show.
At one point, the Boss turned on some old-time religion evangelist charm that had me screamin' "PREACH IT!" as he told us that they were there "to build a house of love...and sexual healing...with music and spirit and noise." He told us we were the tools to help build that house, causing the late-teens kid behind me who put this Bruce fan to shame with his admiration, knowledge and enthusiasm that there were indeed some "tools in these seats." Like the row of Gap Ad wanna-bes who sat on the row in front of us. The girls looked clueless and annoyed and the guys wouldn't quit messing with their phones. The tickets must have been part of some coroporate comp because they all showed up late and looked bored. One guy actually PLAYED A GAME ON HIS PHONE through the last set and the encore! I wanted so badly to kick him in the back of the head. Who did he think he was?
No, I was a much bigger fan of the snarky kid behind me, because every time Bruce thanked us, he thanked Bruce right back,"Naw, man, thank YOU for being here! Thank YOU for being YOU!"
I crossed off a "bucket list" item without even planning to, as I jumped up and down and screamed out "Born to Run" at the top of my lungs with 14,999 of my new closest friends. I loved that he took requests, even "I'm Going Down" (and praised the aristry of the sign) even though he wasn't sure he could remember it. I loved how the houselights were up for the songs that really brought the house DOWN. I loved that on the edge of SIXTY, this man tirelessly puts on a show like this, working the ENTIRE stage, going out into the audience, doing knee slides and belting out "ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!" I loved seeing Max on drums and The Big Man, of course, I loved the whole show. I never wanted it to end.
So now my "fanness" is renewed. "Working on a Dream" is the new ringtone on my phone and I want to make a CD from his Tulsa set list. I want to see the show again! If only we could afford it. And the icing on the cake? Bruce helped raise $26,000.00 and 800 pounds of donated food for a local food bank and donated $10,000.00 of his own money as well as items for an upcoming auction fundraiser. I wore my very expensive concert t-shirt to the grocery store Saturday and was stopped by FIVE people who wanted to know if I had been to the show and how it was. Best $100.00 dollar concert tickets I've ever spent and I'd do it all over again if I could.
I know this cold is contagious because Betty has it, Isaac had it, Pat is getting it, and even Sammy, our boxer, has a runny nose. It is just a cold, but it is spreading like wildfire. My last 2 colds turned in to bronchitis or worse, so although I figured my coworkers would hate me for it (but would they hate me more if they caught my cold?), I allowed myself to be sent home. Steph really wasn't giving me a choice. She put her foot down, and although it is a small foot, I didn't fight her much.
I came home and slept for 3 hours or so, with Sammy curled up against me and snoring away. The sleep is good for my cold, but my back is aching from it. Time to get up and do something for a while. Like write. About the Springsteen concert I attended last week. Because I haven't written about it yet, except in brief form over at Facebook.
Back in high school, when I was a junior or a senior, I was a member of that fine organization, the Columbia Record and Tape Club. Long before I had even heard of a CD player, I got my 15 tapes for a penny, or whatever their spiel was. Then I had to remember to send the card back every month or get charged for the selection of the month. One month, I forgot (OK, MORE than one month, I forgot...) but one month in particular, I forgot and became the proud owner of Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band Live: 1975-1985. Now, I don't recall if I tore the cellophane off that boxed set immediately with eagerness to pop that first cassette into my boom box or not. But I did listen. After all, some of my aunts and uncles were big Springsteen fans and they were pretty cool, so this had to be good, too.
I had no idea.
I wore those tapes out. And once they were worn out, I put them back in the original box with the liner notes and that box is out in the garage, carefully packed away with a lot of other things I treasure. I loved that Bruce and the E Street Band had such history together and they really seemed like buddies just laid back and enjoying themselves. I loved his song-writing ability. He could sound as gravelly and constipated as he wanted to, he could WRITE a SONG. I wrote a paper about the song "Thunder Road" in my senior English class. I received an "A" and, in red ink, praise because my teacher was also a big fan. I had no idea...she didn't seem the "type" and this just made her that more cool in my eyes, and I already really admired her.
Two years after that senior year, I met a guy at a party. When he asked me what kind of music I liked, I was unable to name any recent stuff that I really listened to (it was pre-grunge...what can I say?). I did mention Springsteen and Bob Dylan. His eyes widened. He later admitted his previous girlfriend did not know who Bob Dylan was (nor could she name all 4 Beatles) -- this was a travesty for a guy who is so into music -- it is a good thing that he didn't marry that girl, as badly as she wanted him to. Six months later, I went to see Bob Dylan in concert with that guy and 19 years later, he escorted me to see Springsteen.
I was so tired on concert night. I had two straight days with three teachers trying to get monthly reports out. I would have rather gone home and gone to bed. But Springsteen! Come on! I could pull it together for that! I had been so excited when I got the tickets! Where had that excitement gone?! It returned with a vengance as the house lights dimmed and I heard that familiar voice echo to the roof of the arena "IS ANYONE ALIVE OUT THERE TONIGHT?!"
He opened the show with "Badlands," and we were all on our feet. I'll admit, like many others in the audience, I was not familiar with every song on the set list. I've been an amateur fan at best. Sometimes, yes, I wish that closed captioning was available on the Jumbo Tron; the band was loud, the crowd was loud, and in the end, it didn't matter, it was a hell of a show.
At one point, the Boss turned on some old-time religion evangelist charm that had me screamin' "PREACH IT!" as he told us that they were there "to build a house of love...and sexual healing...with music and spirit and noise." He told us we were the tools to help build that house, causing the late-teens kid behind me who put this Bruce fan to shame with his admiration, knowledge and enthusiasm that there were indeed some "tools in these seats." Like the row of Gap Ad wanna-bes who sat on the row in front of us. The girls looked clueless and annoyed and the guys wouldn't quit messing with their phones. The tickets must have been part of some coroporate comp because they all showed up late and looked bored. One guy actually PLAYED A GAME ON HIS PHONE through the last set and the encore! I wanted so badly to kick him in the back of the head. Who did he think he was?
No, I was a much bigger fan of the snarky kid behind me, because every time Bruce thanked us, he thanked Bruce right back,"Naw, man, thank YOU for being here! Thank YOU for being YOU!"
I crossed off a "bucket list" item without even planning to, as I jumped up and down and screamed out "Born to Run" at the top of my lungs with 14,999 of my new closest friends. I loved that he took requests, even "I'm Going Down" (and praised the aristry of the sign) even though he wasn't sure he could remember it. I loved how the houselights were up for the songs that really brought the house DOWN. I loved that on the edge of SIXTY, this man tirelessly puts on a show like this, working the ENTIRE stage, going out into the audience, doing knee slides and belting out "ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!" I loved seeing Max on drums and The Big Man, of course, I loved the whole show. I never wanted it to end.
So now my "fanness" is renewed. "Working on a Dream" is the new ringtone on my phone and I want to make a CD from his Tulsa set list. I want to see the show again! If only we could afford it. And the icing on the cake? Bruce helped raise $26,000.00 and 800 pounds of donated food for a local food bank and donated $10,000.00 of his own money as well as items for an upcoming auction fundraiser. I wore my very expensive concert t-shirt to the grocery store Saturday and was stopped by FIVE people who wanted to know if I had been to the show and how it was. Best $100.00 dollar concert tickets I've ever spent and I'd do it all over again if I could.
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