Ugh. When I started this blog I imagined writing in it AT LEAST once per week. Hahaha.... pretty laughable. It pops up on my to do list every week. But like many other tasks on that list I gently just move it to another day. When I saw it this week I thought to myself, heck.... I am too overwhelmedstressed bummed tired.... excuses, excuses. Then I told myself that since I would be hard pressed to find something positive to share with my "masses" I shouldn't write anything. Yet here I am. Should I list all the things that are overwhelming, stressing, bumming, and exhausting me? Probably not. Should I go downstairs and fix myself a brownie with ice cream and chocolate syrup and whipped cream? Also probably not. I think I'll go hug my baby girl and then go sit in my sun room and watch for birds to enjoy my new bird feeder.
Becca Erin. She was supposed to be Becca Elysse but she decided to make her appearance on St. Patrick's Day so I felt like we should commemorate that somehow.
Let me back up....
In my last post I talked about some of the thoughts I had while alone in the hospital with my new son, Hunter. One thought/feeling I had was one of peace and contentment. I translated that feeling into our family being complete. I hadn't imagined having "only" three children but I felt so content that I assumed that was the case. So we decided Matt would get "fixed".
Literally the night before the procedure I had a vivid dream. Don't laugh... I have very crazy dreams anyway... like movies. In this one, I was being herded along a path with other hostages by some foreign military types. I saw something moving out of the corner of my eye, glanced over, and it was a BABY, laying face down in the dirt. But obviously alive. I turned to our captor and asked if I could go pick it up. He said no. I begged, pleaded, and he still said no. I woke up. Then I woke Matt up and told him his procedure would have to wait. Perhaps just a crazy dream but I couldn't ignore it.
We spent the next several months praying, fasting, praying, pondering, and praying some more. We just were not getting any clear answers. So finally we threw our hands up and said let's just not do anything to prevent another baby for 3 months and see what happens. I must admit I felt a little sense of relief when we were approaching our deadline and nothing had happened. That lasted a few days until the tell-tale signs of pregnancy showed up. But there ya go... we had our answer.
Keep in mind, at this point I had a busy 5 year old very ready to start kindergarten, a feisty 3 year old starting preschool, and an 18 month old that was thankfully pretty easy on me.
After 32ish weeks, Becca apparently felt ready to join us. After stopping labor 4 times, we were just shy of 37 weeks so the doctor told me to come on in. March 17, 1998.
I sometimes feel bad for babies in large-ish families. I was so busy I didn't soak in the newness of this one as fully as the others. But I did realize that this was FOR SURE our last. So I let myself soak that in. I rocked her to sleep every. single. time. And I didn't rush her into crawling, walking, etc.
Molly loved the baby but had so much to do now that she was going to school. Sara was too busy idolizing Molly to be too into the new sister. Hunter was just too boy to care. So Becca grew into a child that was very content playing by herself. And like most youngest children, she has the fewest photos and such.
As children, she was literally terrorized by her brother Hunter. He took great pride in his ability to take her from zero to screaming in milliseconds. It only took her about 14 years to grasp the idea of laughing with/at him and at least acting like he didn't bother her. So fun to hear her now say "I can't wait to see Hunter!"
Becca was only 9 when the divorce happened. She just wanted to love both her parents and see them both. She had no way of understanding some of the things that had gone on and that went on during the ugliest of it all.
Becca was always the "cute" sister. Who doesn't love her fantastic freckles? And she was the only one that got a touch of her Gramma Sharon's strawberry blonde hair. She has such gorgeous and stylish older sisters to follow. She has done it with her own unique flair. And as she grows through her teen years I see that she won't always be the cutsie little sister. She is becoming a beautiful young woman... that still has fantastic freckles! She often reminds me of her oldest sister Molly, with her facial expressions and mannerisms. She shares clothes with her other sister Sara but makes the outfits all her own. And some days she seems to love that she is the baby. But some days she seems hate it.
Poor thing is stuck home as the only kid left. She is forced into spending more time with her parents and (eek) step-parents than I am sure she wants to. She told me the other day that I am her best friend. What more could a mother want? Especially from her 16 year old.
Becca is a planner. She always had her birthday party planned about 11 months ahead of time. She knows how many children she wants to have and what their names will be. She wants to own a bakery. She's been known to get a little flustered when her vision and plans don't fall into place but she is getting better at that. Nothing wrong with plans goals though. I can't wait to see them come to fruition. And even if she has more lessons in letting go of the vision and going with the flow... I have no doubt she will handle it all beautifully.
In the spring of 1995 we had just moved back to California from Colorado and we had another "surprise" baby on the way. The other "surprise" happened when we moved to Colorado so we decided we probably shouldn't move to another state for awhile. It took awhile for things to settle in for me but about the time it did, we found out that our surprise was also a BOY! Surprise! After two princess girlie girls... I was excited for the new challenge.
Have you ever seen this... ?
So true. I was NOT expecting the level and consistency of noise. Neither were his sisters. And the dirt, grime, etc.... EWWWWW! (the "etc" was the worst)
With no further adieu... let me introduce to you... Matthew Hunter Crabtree!
I will interject here that my gorgeous eldest Amelia is expecting her third baby and we recently found out that it is indeed a BOY! YAY! However, the newest Hartzell youngen's gender has not been received well by his sisters. Funny to me because it is so exactly like how Molly herself responded to the news of a brother. But we all certainly adore "Bubba" now. (What his adoring nieces call him)
As I ponder what more to say about my boy, I have decided some of my thoughts need to be their own separate blog post. Let's suffice to say boys are just different. The way you feel about them, the way they feel about you, the dirt, their thought process, the noise, and the RESPONSIBILITY.
I'm going to assume, perhaps unfairly, that this feeling of responsibility may be unique to Latter Day Saint mothers. But I vividly recall sitting in my hospital room, alone with MY SON, looking at him and thinking "I am holding a future priesthood holder. A future missionary. A future gentleman (we hope). A future husband. How on earth will I teach him how to be all these things? But thank you Lord for giving me this opportunity."
Luckily Hunter was an extremely easy baby so I had some peaceful moments over the next several months to let all that sink in. And about that easy baby stuff, I have a theory that our third babies are easy so we won't call it all quits. I have met several people that were ready to give up after their 2nd and thought they'd give it ONE MORE CHANCE, only to have angel 3rd babies that make us forget how hard it was.
Hunter was a typical little boy with sisters. Meaning he was dirty- A LOT - and destructive while also being a great problem solver, but would also cry because he wanted his nails painted as well. He wanted nothing more than to be like his daddy. He went through a tantrum stage at about 3 that we have documented well with photos. He was a picky eater but that thoroughly disappeared by his teens. He was always the teacher's pet. ALWAYS. And he was adored by all the ladies in the house. Well, except for his little sister who he took great pride in being able to infuriate to a screaming state within seconds. I think we are finally, barely out of that stage.
Even before the divorce, daddy traveled a lot and would remind Hunter that he was the "man of the house" when he was not there. One night I was up late and Hunter was with me and trying to keep his eyes open. When I asked him why he didn't just go to bed he said "Because I need to check the windows and doors before I can go to bed." My heart did a huge "Awwwww" and I assured him I could do it that one time so he could just fall asleep. (He was about TEN at the time).
Then came the rough spot. "the divorce" I've learned that there is no way for me to know how it truly affected and continues to affect my babies. We each had our own sadness and grief to deal with. But Hunter was at a very pivotal time in a LDS boy's life. He was ready to receive the Aaronic Priesthood (if any of this brings up questions feel free to ask!). He was ordained by a good family friend and we had many other friends there to share the day. Such a sweet spirit was in our home that day. And Hunter continued to be the "man of the house".
I should for time sake but I cannot leave out a great story from about that time. It was Christmas. One of my favorite things is having lights on the house. But we were suddenly a family with the only man being a almost 12 year old. However, my sweet boy came to me and said he could do the lights himself. He had "helped" dad many times so he had it all under control. What's a mom to say? But I shared my concern with our home teacher Eric Roweton and he said he had an idea. So the day Hunter had planned to hang the lights, Eric showed up. Only to bring a ladder in case Hunter needed it. And hung around just in case Hunter needed him to hold something for him or some other easy task. Low and behold, with his "helper", Hunter got the lights up and working quite well. He was very proud of himself. And so was his mama.
Hunter's teens have been challenging for me. After we moved to Utah he decided he wanted to go back and live with his dad in California during high school. I had my concerns but his dad is a good dad and Hunter has turned out quite well.
Here we are, less than a month before my boy graduates from high school and is officially a "grown up". I can't believe it. It can't have been 18 years since I sat with that baby in my arms. But alas, it is true. I couldn't be more proud of who he is. His sisters insist he is my "favorite" but moms know we don't have favorites. As I already mentioned, and promised a separate post on, boys are just different. Our relationship is simple. If he is mad at me it lasts about 90 seconds and we are over it. Well... except for one patch where a crazy girlfriend was involved... but I digress. The boy can't wait to graduate and get on with life. He has chosen to attend the University of Utah (GO UTES!) which will bring him back to Utah and closer to mom. We even get a good 6 weeks with him here this summer before he moves into the dorm. And we are over the moon excited. Even his little sister. Which indicates great progress. He's a smarty pants. As of now planning to be an attorney. And he is truly a gentleman. He shows his sisters what they should look for in a man. And best of all... he loves his mommy!
It's official. I have fibromyalgia. What? Are you SURE? I mean we checked for all kinds of stuff... MS, Lupus, Rheumatoid Arthritis... not that I would prefer any of those. But at least they are "real" conditions. I would never give anyone a funny look or think they were just a hypochondriac if they told me they had one of those conditions. Now the battle within ensues. The first time I heard the word FIBROMYALGIA was when I was in high school. I knew someone well that I considered to be a hypochondriac. But she let me know that she had this crazy syndrome that just made you hurt all the time and tired all the time. No one knew why. No one knew what to do about it. Yada, yada, yada. (Skip ahead if you'd like. I'm going to include a lot of detail. Just in case it might help someone else) Fast forward a few years. I've tried to place when this may have started but who knows. I do remember one day when my children were small- small enough that I was still cleaning their rooms for them- I was cleaning Molly & Sara's room. I had spent a lot of time on the floor sorting their stupid Polly Pocket stuff. (I hated that stuff- almost worse than Legos) Later that evening my knee was aching. A LOT. And it got worse and worse over a few days so I went to the doctor. I do legitimately have an issue with my foot arches that cause knee issues but I don't remember my knee(s) ever not hurting from that point forward. I have braces, shoe inserts, etc. I've gone to physical therapy. On and on. In the past few years even my ankles and hips have been hurting. Sometimes aching so badly that it wakes me up. I thought this all had to do with my dumb feet. On a separate note (or so I thought) I've had (again since my children were small) odd spots on my body that hurt VERY bad if anyone pushes on them. I'm talking just a normal poke to the ribs is terribly painful. I just chalked this up to me being sort of an odd duck and lived with it. Several years ago I started feeling overly fatigued. I had started an anxiety medication about the same time so assumed that was why. I also knew I needed to eat better and lose weight so I blamed most of all of this on those issues. But lately I have been dang tired. I can literally lay down at any point in the day and sleep for hours. However, I have insomnia at night. Even if I make myself get up early and not sleep during the day. It's very annoying. Finally, the "brain fog" I hear it is called. My kids have just been accusing me for years of having Alzheimer's. I heard once that hormonal imbalances caused forgetfulness so yeah... I had an excuse for that as well. Several months ago the aches and pains got so bad it was hard to walk sometimes. If I sat for very long I was incredibly stiff when I got up and moving was painful. I had been taking over the counter anti-imflammatories like mints for years. But I thought I'd ask my doctor for something stronger. So he gave me something. I took it for a couple of months and nothing. So we tried something else and did some blood work. It showed that my body had a high level of inflammation but I was having sinus surgery soon so he thought we should address it after my recovery and see if there was improvement. But the new meds also didn't work. I visited him last week and we did more blood work but we also had a nice conversation. I brought up that "F" word. I asked him if fibromyalgia is real. He chuckled a little bit and said "I want to show you something." He turned his computer screen around and showed a note from several visits ago. He had noted "Probably fibromyalgia." Lame. I walked out in a daze. Lame because so what. People have surely gotten FAR worse news from their doctors. But I was embarrassed. I didn't want to tell anyone. Certainly not my family whom I had indoctrinated to my 'fibromyalgia is fake' mantra. No wonder! This explains so much. All the time that my ex-husband blamed me for being lazy and out of shape and why did I sleep so much? It made sense! I could start letting go of a huge heap of my self-criticism. But what if I've been right? What if it is fake? I know who would know. Dr. Oz. If he believes in it... then it is OBVIOUSLY real. (insert only slight sarcasm here- he really is pretty cool) http://www.doctoroz.com/episode/disease-doctors-miss-most-fibromyalgia Again... wow. Now what? I tell David. While he's at work and just kind of busy. Then I tell my kids. NO. REACTION. WHATSOEVER. FROM. ANYONE. Ummmm.... helllloooo... I just told you gusy I have the "disease doctors miss most". But I don't freak out. I call my BFF Amy and whine that no one cared. I get the perfect amount of "oh sweetie... I am soooo sorry" that only BFF's know how to dish out. In the mix of all this I panic a bit. I recall a time when I was pregnant and was tired, of course. But at my doctor's appointment he freaks out about my iron levels and says "How did you not know? Haven't you been exhausted?" As soon as he said that I felt REALLY tired. I could barely drive home. Nothing had changed. Except I knew I was supposed to be tired. So I stopped pushing through and making myself believe I was fine. What if that happened now? I had to make sure it didn't. I had the power. Right? I'm still sad at this point that I got zero sympathy from my family. So I get on the internet. I literally search "my mom has fibromyalgia" and "my wife has fibromyalgia". Try it. Fun reading. Everything I came across was something about the mom/wife laying on the couch all day and doing nothing and the family was trying to be helpful but had enough. Yikes. Let's remember. Nothing had changed. Except I had new knowledge. And new meds!! And they were working!! Apparently this confirmed the diagnosis. Along with the further test results that ruled out everything else. So I gently mentioned to my family that I was saddened by their reactions- or lack thereof. They pointed out that it was ME that had told them that the diagnosis I was just given was not a real thing. And they apologized and asked what they can do. The update is that the meds are working. I don't have to take a hot bath every night just so I can fall asleep. The fatigue has not changed much though. And I need to learn my limits. Went to City Creek with my girls one night including standing in line at Cheesecake Factory for 50 minutes- I could barely walk to the car. But at least now I know why. And my apologies to everyone I judged when they said they had fibromyalgia.
Monday, December 2, 2013
I just found this unpublished blog from a few weeks ago. I'm in a very different mind-frame today so I will just publish it as is.
It's been a rough month or so. Heck...it's been a rough 6 years or so. But it's my nature (thank goodness) to let the positives rise to the top. So let's start with those... (not in any special order)
I'm alive.
I'm pretty healthy.
My children are healthy, happy, and thriving.
My grandbabies are healthy, happy, and thriving.
David is alive & sober. (169 days!)
We all have a warm roof over our heads and food in our bellies.
I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints!
There are more but... excuse me and allow me to wallow a bit.
I got fired. (OUCH!)
My relationship with my oldest child is strained.
It would take a miracle to get all my children into the same room for an hour let alone regularly.
My husband and I are separated and have certainly had more bad days than good ones.
Must get better at blogging!
Man my life is crazy. And I am married to a man that seems like someone I should kick to the curb. The irony is that he makes me happier- even at his worst- than my first husband did. Well, perhaps happy is not an accurate adjective. He makes me feel safer and more loved than I felt during my other marriage. Yet, on the outside, we looked like the perfect couple.
The main thing on my mind right now is that I really am madly in love with David. Not sure I feel like blogging about this right now (which means it may never happen considering my blogging history) but David is currently in jail. Not prison, "just" jail. And I am still shocked that I even know the difference. Anyway... I visited him tonight. And despite all the frustration, and downright anger I feel towards him at times... my heart skipped a beat when I saw him. All I could think about is "Dang! I love this man!".
I don't know if things will work out because I have to be realistic. But in the past several days as I have had lots of thinking time, the thing I realized is that I WANT things to work. I WANT to spend my life with David. So to everyone that tells me how crazy I am... please know that I hear you. I process every word that is said. And I feel so incredibly loved by everyone that is being protective. Please try to understand that what you see on the outside may not be indicative of what is on the inside. And I am talking about David himself as well as our relationship.
I love my family and friends. My FAVORITE is spending time with them. (I could add A LOT more photos but these are the ones that are handy) :)
Wow... I am terrible at keeping up with this blog.
It's time for me to introduce my second born... Sara Nicole.
She came into the world as a total surprise. We have no "accidents" in our family but we do have two "surprises" and Sara was the first. Her dad had just gotten out of the Marine Corps. We actually found out Sara was coming on the same day we found out he got a job.
From the very beginning, Sara was a handful. She never wanted to sleep. I also had a two year old running me ragged. And her daddy was working full time and going to school full time. So a few naps here and there would have been wonderful. But no such luck.
Sara was always in awe of her big sister. If I had a nickel for every time Molly said "She's COPYING me again!". I had many chances to discuss how imitation is the highest form of flattery.
Sara was a Daddy's girl. She would light up as soon as he walked in. I spent the first years feeling like I was just there to feed her and keep her occupied until her favorite parent got home. Some days it made me sad, but most days it was adorable.
As Sara started growing her independence also grew. This girl has always walked to the beat of her very own drummer. I never did her hair because she had a way she wanted to do it herself. And she would come downstairs in the most interesting outfits. Yet she would own it in such a way that we never questioned it.
We used to call her the "peacemaker" in our family. Such is the state of a middle child. But whenever she did finally lose it... look out.
There is a period of time that is such a blur for me. A time when it was a struggle to just put one foot in front of the other. I ache because I know that this really effected my babies. But it was probably during this time that I started seeing how alike Sara and I actually are. Since she was now a teen I was bracing myself... remembering my own teen years.
Fast forward a bit--- Sara is a phenomenal young woman. She has rebuilt a relationship with her beloved daddy and I am proud of her for being able to do that. She felt the force of natural consequences and still graduated from high school with fantastic grades. She still carries that amazing sense of style. She is freakingly gorgeous (I LOVE when people say we look alike- best compliment EVER). She has a sweet, giving spirit that isn't always obvious.
She is still the peacemaker in the family. And this family is lacking peace... all too often. I pray for that burden to release her. And I strive to do what I can to alleviate my contribution(s) to any lack of peace.
Sara is amazing at anything and everything she attempts. That is a trait my children got from their father.
Sara still adores her big sister. She is the best of friends with her brother. And an fantastic big sister to her baby sister.
Sara is wise for her years. She hates when I say this but I believe it will be hard for her to find her soul mate for awhile because her beauty, intelligence, and humor, scare boys away. It will take a man that is very secure in his own skin to "get" her and be able to give what she wants & needs.
In the end, I am grateful for this sweet girl that in the beginning I thought only wanted me for breast milk. She still rarely sleeps. But when she falls asleep in my bed I love watching her sweet face and thinking about all she will accomplish.
I've been terribly tired lately. I've always been a good sleeper. I grew up hearing "You could sleep through a tornado." The few people that have ever slept with me would attest to the fact that it takes me all of 30-60 seconds to fall asleep. But this has nothing to do with my normal behavior(s). I'm dang tired. So I have been pondering on why. Here are some of my thoughts...
I'm a single mom that works full time and has been taking on over-time lately. Constantly stressing about finances.
I've been dealing with a difficult split from my alcoholic husband. Learning A LOT about co-dependency though.
I usually take these supplements made by doTERRA that are in the Lifelong Vitality Pack. I have often told people that I didn't notice much difference when I started taking them but always notice when I stop. Well, I ran out a couple of weeks ago.
If you were inside my head you'd be tired too. But that is nothing new.
And finally, one of my favorite things is where I work---- even tired, I enjoy my job. And not everyone can say that. Plus, I get free soda.
I am mortified. There may be a better word but that is the first one that came to mind. I just saw that I have not posted since FEBRUARY. I HATE realizations such as this one because it makes me feel like I am wasting my life away. Maybe that is just a product of getting older but each day seems like such a precious commodity. I've been thinking every 5 days or so "hey...I need to get back to blogging", but apparently it has been TEN months since I've actually done it. As I look back at the pattern of my posts it appears as though I am due to introduce another "character".
Amelia Brianne Crabtree. Molly. I tried, and tried, and tried to get pregnant. When it finally happened I was in shock. We found out about her existence on August 2, 1991, exactly one year after Iraq invaded Kuwait.
Guess what? It is now almost May. So well over a year since my last post. This one has been difficult but I have also just not been doing it.
Back to Molly...
I wonder what to include and what to leave out. Of course I could go on and on and on... like women do about their children. My pregnancy was a learning experience. I was sick as heck. Then got as big as a house. I was almost TWO WEEKS late when my doctor scheduled an induction. A couple of days before that I started feeling uncomfortable at night but woke up the next morning most definitely in labor. I will spare the gruesome details but Molly finally made an appearance at 10:30 in the morning---- over 36 hours after I "started feeling uncomfortable". And we had to force her out with a c-section. Not how I pictured things going but I soon forgot about all that as the realization that we were PARENTS set in. I vividly recall the look we gave each other when we got in the car to leave the hospital. Then nervously laughed. They were letting us take an infant human being home with us. Were they crazy?
Oh how I loved that baby. I could not stop kissing her. Everything she did was photo worthy... and this was "back in the day" when we actually developed film. Her daddy had to miss her first Christmas when he was sent to Somalia but Molly sent him off with her very first wave.
Molly was a natural leader (oldest child) in our family. She was very good at keeping us on task and reminding us of the rules. And she was always so beautiful. She did have a bit of an awkward jeans & star wars t-shirts with a Telli-Tubbie hooked to her belt loop phase- but she has certainly grown out of that! Nowadays she looks like she stepped out of a fashion magazine.
I think I can safely say that a defining moment in Molly's life was when her dad and I divorced. I'm sure it felt as though her (and her siblings) world spun out of control. I was a mess. And I did not handle the choices put in my path the way I might if I could have a redo. And her dad was not consistent with visits. It breaks my heart to think of what my children must have been feeling. Molly was 15 and handled it far better than I think I would have.
Molly had always said she wanted to be a wife and a mommy when she grew up. Much to the chagrin of her school guidance counselors. But Molly has always had a way of making sure things (within her control) have a way of falling into place. So as Molly celebrated her 21st birthday last week- she is the best wife and mommy I've ever met. She and her husband Ryan are deeply in love, best friends, and are sealed for time and all eternity. She has two beautiful and amazing daughters- Brianne will be 3 in a few weeks and Leighton is 18 months.
At this point in time my relationship with Molly is strained. It breaks my heart but I try to understand. Each and every day that goes by without seeing or at least talking to her, literally brings me to my knees. I will focus on the positive. The wonderful things she is doing with her life. And the dreams she had that have come true. Isn't that what we truly want for our babies?
Now for some "favorites"... pics of Molly.
I love you Molly. I completely adore you. I would give almost anything to be able to hug you and kiss your face tonight.
A few weeks ago I discovered this song by playing the "Popular" songs on Grooveshark.com. It sounded very "emo" so I started to skip it then somehow got hooked by the chorus. Then I listened to the lyrics and wanted to say "wow... how did you know my life?" I posted it once on Facebook with a comment that it made me think of my ex-husband and got a couple of responses of "WHICH ex?" Bahahahahaha... not really funny, but kind of.
Anyway, I was just listening to it again after one of my music idols MARK HOPPUS posted it and claims to be addicted as well. So I decided to use MY blog to vent MY feelings about Somebody That I Used to Know.
You have been warned. If you don't want gory details then turn away now. (I cannot get the font colors to cooperate...my apologies)
"Somebody That I Used To Know" (feat. Kimbra)
[Gotye:]
Now and then I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die(yep...he did)
Told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember (yessss...I felt more alone when I was married to him than I do now that I am actually alone)
You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness (wow..hadn't thought of it in these words until now)
Like resignation to the end, always the end
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends (he SWORE we'd even hug when greeting each other)
But I'll admit that I was glad that it was over (the relief was overwhelming)
But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing (ask him ...or his wife... now. You'd think we barely new each other)
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough (TOTALLY flippin' ignores me even if I speak to him- won't even be in the same room with me if he can avoid it)
No you didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number (well...he did change his number but I am not "allowed" to call him anyway. Only email which SHE answers)
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
Now you're just somebody that I used to know(but thanks...it made it easy to move on. The man I married and had children with no longer exists.)
[Kimbra:]
Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
But had me believing it was always something that I'd done (O M G... every single time. Just ask my BFF about the daily calls asking her if I was crazy)
And I don't wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go
And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know (Bahahahahahaha now THAT is hilariously ironic)
[Gotye:]
But you didn't have to cut me off
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing
And I don't even need your love
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough
And you didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number
I guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
Somebody
(I used to know)
Somebody
(Now you're just somebody that I used to know)
Yep. But he tells me to "move on". I've been told I talk of him too much. It's tough. We were married for EIGHTEEN years! But it's true. I do talk about him more than I should. The drama that continues keeps him in my thoughts. Sharing four children that speak of him all the time makes it rough. But one of my goals is to keep working on that. Our thoughts determine our lives. So my energy would be better spent elsewhere.
I spent the day at the zoo. It was nice. It was some good alone time to think. Some things on my mind these days (in no particular order)-
My relationship with David. Has there been too much damage to fix it? The next relationship I have will be the last. I can't stand another end. So this has to be for good.
O M G... Sara is graduating in a few months. GRADUATING.
Molly hates me. She is in a place where all she remembers is every bad thing I've ever done. So we don't talk. And I don't see her. Or her babies. My heart physically aches. Period. And I have no idea what to do.
My job is fun. And I would be extremely excited about it. But I am scared to death. I was hired to replace someone that "wasn't working out". The pressure is enormous.
I should go to the Temple more often. For that matter my whole life needs some structure. But back to the Temple. When I went last week and pondered fervently on these issues that weigh on my heart the answer I got? Work on YOU Shelly. Be the best you you can be and the good will come.
And now for my favorite. My favorite animal(s) at the zoo, Sea World, wherever I can find them. My kids claim I sit and watch them for "hours" so today I timed myself. 47 minutes watching the polar bear.
Ok...so let's be honest. I've been "off" for several weeks now. BUT I started a new opportunity yesterday and then didn't have to work today so it is still a day off. I've been cleaning, paying bills, reconciling my checkbook, all kinds of fun stuff.
I am due for another introduction. I am never quite sure what order to go in but I've decided today to introduce you to my children's dad. Mostly because I want to get it done. And some days I feel worse about him than others. Wouldn't be fair to post on one of the bad days. So let me introduce you to Matthew Crabtree-----
Because I made a commitment in the beginning to this being an open and honest blog I am going to tell the real version-- not the watered down one I typically share.
I should start with my senior year in high school. I had a boyfriend. He asked me to marry him. It sounded like a fun idea so I said yes. Oh to be 18 and live day by day. I don't recall giving much thought to a life together. But the wedding sounded like a fun idea. And being a wife and mom was my life long dream so this made sense. We both graduated in June, he left for boot camp in October, came home briefly in February to get married, then left soon after for a year in Okinawa. So once things settled down and reality hit me I had one of the biggest "whoops" moments of my life. We talked on the phone and sort of agreed that we had made a mistake and decided we would "separate" even though we were already geographically separated. So I started living like a single 19 year old. I visited my friends in college. And I went out to clubs with my friends in town.
One of those nights at a club a young man caught my eye. I will spare you the gruesome details of me figuring out how to meet him and just fast forward to later that night when we danced and talked. I gave him my phone number but considering his level of intoxication I figured it was over when we left that night. When I was at work the next day my friend and sometimes roommate called me and said "that guy from lastnight called! He wants you to meet him at the club again tonight!" Again, sparing some details, we fell hard. He was actually stationed at Lowry AFB though and was due to leave that very week! He decided to take a week of leave so we could spend some time together. After he transferred to Camp Pendleton I visited him for a week. Then I had a slap in the face from reality when it was time for my "husband" to come back and we needed to tie up those loose ends. He ended up being less than cooperative so things did not exactly go smoothly. However, a few months later I found myself MOVING to California to live near Matt. He was a young Marine and not allowed to live anywhere other than the barracks at the time so we definitely struggled financially. When we got married I was working full time at a bank, part time at a bridal shop (a strategic move), and trying to take some college classes. We planned to get married in August of 1989 but we woke up on Memorial Day of that year and started talking about how much more money he would be making after we got married due to the housing allowances and such. So we decided to hop in the car and drive to VEGAS. We didn't tell anyone and still had our wedding in August. And then we got married in the LDS Temple in September of 1991 (I will get to that later)---- but considering we were married THREE times you would think it would have stuck, huh?
A requirement of getting married on a Marine base is fulfilling a 3 day workshop on marriage. As part of that a Chaplain came to discuss religion. I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints but I was not "active" at the time. Matt had been a Jehovah's Witness as a small child then attended a baptist church as he got older. At that time he said he was leaning towards more "scientific" beliefs. The Chaplain explained to us that it was not necessary that married people share the same religion but that it is vital that they agree on what they will teach their children. This opened up several conversations between us. One day we were visiting the Mormon Battalion Museum in San Diego. I shared with one of the missionaries that Matt was due to go over to the Gulf for Operation Desert Storm soon. She offered to have her husband give Matt a blessing and he agreed. After the blessing the missionaries asked if they could have some missionaries in our area visit us and much to my surprise Matt agreed to that as well! Then after a few meetings with our local missionaries Matt decided he wanted to be baptized. I was shocked to say the least. But he was baptized and worked hard to study and stay active while he was in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait for 6 months. Soon after he returned we starting preparing to go to the Temple. During this time we found out we were expecting our first child! We were very excited for all of the joyful things ahead of us.
Let me start out by saying Matt has always been one of those people that is larger than life. Everyone that meets him loves him. He is funny. He is intelligent. And he is good looking. We seemed to be a close to perfect couple and family. We had our ups and downs like everyone does. And in all fairness I will admit that I am a fairly emotional person. Which translated into some "passionate" arguing. But overall things were good. However, I always felt like anything that went wrong was my fault. And Matt has always been generous with criticism. I still felt like the good far outweighed the bad. Even when Matt would occasionally make close female friends. This habit seemed to begin very innocently. I recall one in the early days - a girl he worked with, that he went out country dancing with a few times so he could learn how to dance and then take me dancing. Then there was one that was slightly less innocent, a gal that had literally told me that she could and would take Matt away from me if she wanted to. Believe it or not, Matt had been her home teacher. She got divorced and one day Matt went to lunch with her. He told me about it a week later and admitted to "wanting to upset" me but didn't have a clear reason why. It isn't out of spite that I say that I could go on for quite some time talking about his various "friends". I will talk about only two more. One was definitely the most damaging to my psyche. It was my BFF. But it was all very odd. Let me start by saying that she would NEVER betray her husband or me. But we were all very good friends so one night when Matt said --in front of her husband and I--- that he needed to talk to her and would stop by soon, we didn't think it too odd. I honestly thought he was probably planning to buy me something and wanted her opinion. But from what I've been told when he went over there he told her that he was in love with someone else and wanted her opinion on what he should do. She told him to definitely get that out of his mind and go home to me. But after that night he started acting very oddly. And finally one day when I was telling her how crazy it was making me she told me about the conversation. When I confronted him he claimed it was a girl he had met in class but I had this odd feeling that it was actually my BFF. For years that effected my relationship with her and it forever changed our relationship as couples.
Somehow we got through that. I will skip over a few more rocky spots. And then we come to April of 2007. I shared with Matt one night that I was still having a hard time believing he loved me and wanted our marriage. He held my hands in his, looked me in the eye, and said "You will just have to trust me." So I decided I would need to do just that. Things were going pretty good really. He had a good job, although he had to be in LA Monday- Thursday each week. But he seemed strong in the Church, giving lessons, talks, and sharing his testimony often. And I was busy with our four active children who were now 9, 11, 13, and 15 and homeschooling.
Matt's 20 year high school class reunion was scheduled in June of that year. He was active in helping plan it and often talking to fellow classmates. We were due for a family vacation so we planned a long 3 week trip to Missouri for the reunion but we would also be fitting in plenty of family time there as well as a stop in Colorado to see that part of our family. The kids were counting down the days! About a week before our departure Matt came to me and said that he had some concerns about us taking the trip. He said he was concerned about finances although we had already worked all of that out and had planned well. However, he insisted we not ignore his feeling so we cancelled the trip. The kids were devastated! I didn't want him to miss his reunion though so I insisted he fly out by himself and attend the reunion. I was not aware that he had another of his "friendships" with a former classmate. So it does seem ironic now that I practically forced him to go. As soon as he returned my intuition was going crazy. Not to mention the rumors that were flying amongst the other class members in attendance. Many of which I had become friends with over the years. Just a few days after his return we had a trip to Sam's Club where he decided to tell me that he was unhappy and wanted a divorce. I don't think I believed it at first. We had been down this road before. But this time was different and that was soon very apparent. Fast forward to today and we are divorced and he is married to his former classmate.
Although I've already aired plenty of our laundry here that was not my main intention. I wanted to paint a picture of a integral character in my life. One more thing relating to our relationship though. During the divorce process I asked Matt to see yet another counselor but with the purpose of simply helping get our children through the process. We met with Dr. Craig Horton in what has become an experience that literally changed my life. After meeting with us together once and with Matt alone once we had an appointment set up that Matt could not (would not?) come to. I sat down and Dr. Horton said to me "You are married to a compulsive liar and a narcissist." He said that he had not had enough time to officially diagnose anything but wanted me to research "Narcissistic Personality Disorder" and then come talk to him again. The first thing I came across online was the work of Dr. Sam Vaknin. As I read the stories from people in relationships with people with NPD I broke down sobbing. I couldn't wait to see Dr. Horton again and share with him that he had given me back some of my sanity. The stories I read were as if they were from my own life. I don't want to bore anyone reading this but feel free to do your own research. As with any disorder, not every single aspect fits Matt, but enough that it helped me understand so much of our life.
Our divorce and life since has been an enormous challenge. But we have many wonderful memories. And I make a point of thinking of the good things about Matt. More than anything else I am grateful to him for sharing in the making of our four amazing children. I cannot imagine life without them. And without Matt they would not be here.
I have obviously skipped over several things but I'm glad I got this done. Now to figure out who will be next.
And my favorite thing today is---- The Temple. I am going tomorrow for a much needed visit. And without the Temple my family would not be a Forever Family!
My dilemma is, do I vent here? Who even reads this? My opening post said I wasn't going to hold back but now I am so unsure.
How can something... let's say being a mom... be simultaneously the most rewarding and the most painful experience? Why is it that one or more of my children say I am amazing on the same day another writes me off forever? Man, I am the first to admit I have made GINORMOUS parenting mistakes. But cut me some slack? Give me some credit for effort? Maybe focus on the good stuff--- I'm pretty sure there was good stuff. I remember good stuff. And I know I love them all more than life itself.
More on that love thing. So... I met someone almost 24 years ago and fell deeply in love. We were married for 18 years. EIGHTEEN YEARS. He drove me crazy. Sometimes with laughter. Sometimes with tears. But he did give me those four amazing beings mentioned in the above paragraph. Four people that would not be who they are today had anything in our lives been different. There came a time that he moved on to something someone else. And that is a topic for another time. But my heart was broken. Smashed. Obliterated. However, I love love. I have a lot to give. And I am not a passive gal. So I processed the hurt and was ready to move on. Fast forward through a bunch of crap and some stupid mistakes. I met someone else. Someone completely different than the first. But I was instantly intrigued. And despite some issues I was ready to jump in with both feet. Interestingly, I found myself married again, but now divorced again. But it is very different. I love him. And not many people will understand this but that love is why I divorced him. But that too is a story for another day. Fast forward a few months. I still love him. And things are changing. So I want us back. And he wants us back. But we need to do it "right". Tough thing is... I am soooooo not good with patience. I know where I want to be. So I want to just be there. Yesterday.
Third "ugh"- SCHOOL. I have a love/hate relationship. Right now I am taking "Statistics for the Behavioral Sciences"--- so it is pure hate.
And--- money. There is never enough. Seen the movie "In Time"? Wow. I can so relate. I feel like I am wasting my life away waiting for the next money to pay the bills that are piling up. And I am tired.
I think that will do for now.
My favorite thing? As mentioned previously----- my precious ducklings.
In all fairness----- this has been a rough week or so. So the fact that I am blogging again after only a couple of days means, to me, that I deserve a pat on the back.
If I follow my original plan I am due to "introduce" another player in the game of Shelly's life. I had to go back and read my posts to remember who I have already mentioned. Based on that it would make sense to now introduce my father. This should be easy---- I barely knew him.
I grew up without a father. I had my amazing Grampa. A close to perfect Uncle. And several other fantastic family members and friends that filled the shoes not filled by a father. But still. I always wondered. I found my birth certificate when I was quite young and saw that his name was Terry Lee Mead. That was all I would know about him for years. Once when I was little, I asked my Gramma about him. She said "He died in the war." So for much of my childhood I was convinced that Hogan from "Hogan's Heroes" was obviously my dad. Then as I got a bit older I would be excited anytime a new phone book was delivered---- this was obviously pre-internet times---- because I could look for his name. Apparently he was "unlisted".
When my mom was nearing her death I realized that I should just ask her about him. It may seem odd to some that I had never done that before. I adored my mom, but we didn't talk about things like that. So sitting on the couch one night I asked her to tell me about my dad. She replied "He left." I tried to press her and she said "That's it. He left."
Fast forward to me as an adult, talking with one of my aunts one evening. I mentioned that with this fancy, new fangled invention called the internet I might be able to get somewhere in the search for my father. I hadn't ever tried too hard but I had just had a baby and realized how good it would be to know the other 50% of my health history. My aunt got emotional and shared that she had known my dad. She and my mom were friends when my mom and dad met so she was there for the whole story. However, she had promised my mom she wouldn't tell anyone. And she didn't. Her information didn't really help me find him but it was still nice to hear something about him. I did find out a pivotal piece of the story. My mom had actually never even told my dad that she was pregnant. So any abandonment I may have felt was unwarranted. How can you abandon someone you are not even aware of?
I posted a message on a site that was primarily for assisting adopted children in finding their birth parents. Literally within an hour I got a message back saying "Try this" and included an address and phone number. I read it and got up and walked away. I had no idea what I wanted to do with the information. I can't even describe what I felt. But my husband decided he would try calling the number. I couldn't even sit in the same room when he called. When he told him "I think my wife might be your daughter" I believe the response was something like "well, that is entirely possible considering the way I lived my life". After exchanging names, dates, and finally some photos it was confirmed. My dad had been found.
We were then living on Camp Pendleton but were planning to soon move back to Denver because my husband was getting out of the Marine Corps. So for the next several weeks we exchanged letters and phone calls. My dad sent me flowers on the first birthday of my daughter. When we finally got back to Denver we set up a meeting. We met for dinner with my dad and some of his friends. It was completely surreal. You meet someone that is really a total stranger and yet at the same time they are one of your closest relatives. I was in a daze for most of the dinner.
My dad was living alone after a bitter divorce several years prior. And he had lost his mother to heart disease due to a drinking problem. So he was lonely and more then ready for a father/daughter relationship. I was not so ready. I needed some time to let it all sink in. We kept in touch. That was in May of 1993. One morning in January I got a call from my dad's sister informing me that he had died of a drug overdose.
I was sad. I was mad. But I was definitely glad I had found him. I went to his funeral and met "family" but have not really kept in touch. However, through all of this I did find out that he had another daughter--- a HALF SISTER! More on that will come in future postings. :-)
So, that is the story of my dad.
Now it is time for homework (Stats---which is why I am putting it off) but I need to end with a favorite thing. I'm going to keep it simple...
Feelings.
I'm not talking about the song. I'm talking about the little things that run around, dance, and sometimes camp out in my head. I have often been told I am optimistic. Happy. A glass half full kind of gal. RIGHT NOW I am not feeling that. Dare I make a list of what I am feeling? (These are in no specific order.)
.... and this post is simply checking in. I WILL be writing again. Life has continued to be a roller coaster ride. But as I have said many times- that ride is made bearable, and even enjoyable, because of my riding companions.
I cannot forget to share my favorite thing. Today it is this...
My earliest memory is of my Uncle Denny and his friend Red Eagle (a real live Indian!) when they were home on leave from the Navy. They were swinging me in the kitchen...one holding my arms and the other holding my legs. I remember laughing while I worried that they were getting terribly close to the oven and I was afraid I'd hit it.
So that is where my story begins. Or at least what I remember.
I apologize if anyone ever reads this and feels like I jump around too much. That is just how I roll.
I had an amazing childhood. I was surrounded by people that adore me. I didn't know my father (more about that another time). Most of the time my mom & I lived with my grandparents. I happened to have the best grandparents EVER. And I had lots of aunts & uncles & cousins that were over all the time. We had picnics, BBQ's, fishing trips, etc. And everyone was invited. For a social butterfly such as myself, it was heaven.
One of my best memories flood back anytime I smell vegetables fresh from a garden. My grandparents had an enormous garden. I realize now it may not have been as huge as I recall but to a small child it seemed to go on forever. Especially when I "helped" dig it up in the spring. We worked out there a lot. Often just my Grampa and I. And after all of our hard work and waiting we would sit down against the garage and sample our bounty. Sitting beside the tomato plants he'd cut a freshly picked cucumber with his pocket knife and hand me a piece. Or let me pull a piece of rhubarb and eat it (without rinsing it off even...but don't tell my Gramma). I don't remember even talking much during these snacks. But there was no reason to. Eventually we'd hear my Gramma call out "Frank!" and we'd head inside.
To this day the smell of a tomato plant makes me feel like a child...a very safe & adored child. That's my favorite.
Next introduction. I'd like to introduce my mother- Sandra Kay Smith- Connell. Sandy. How much I loved her goes without saying. She was mommy. And yes...I said was. My mother died 28 years ago tomorrow. She died on my grandpa's birthday after a long battle with cancer. I had just finished 8th grad. My brother was almost 4 years old.
Of course I have many wonderful memories of my mother. But I wish I could have known her when I was an adult. For almost 10 years now I have been older than my mother ever was. She was never 40. She was never a grandmother. I wish I was able to look to her at times for direction.
I am even more sad for my brother who doesn't even really remember her. And I am sad for her. I can only imagine the pain of knowing you would be leaving your children forever. We've both struggled from time to time but I am pretty sure she'd be happy with what we've done with our lives. And I'm sure we'll see her again and have the privilege to talk to her.
Some things I remember- she loved red roses. She used a lotion called Rose Milk. She was the middle child. She was a loyal and loving friend. She was a hard worker. She took responsibility for her actions. She loved liver and onions. She introduced me to Der Wienerschnitzel (which I LOVE to this day). She faced her trials with grace.
