The Other Mother

There was a time in my life when it was necessary for me to find daycare. I was oh-so-fortunate to find two daycare providers that I lovingly called "the other mother". Calleen Adams was one of those gals.

I loved that lady immensely. When I needed a good back-up plan, she was there. She took the kids when I worked, when I went to school, when I was sick, when I needed to escape from reality.

She fed them. She read to them. She cooked for them. She bandaged skinned knees, wiped tears and offered free, unencumbered hugs. Trust me. There were many, MANY times that I was on the receiving end of wiped tears and huge hugs.

The earth wept yesterday as Calleen left our lives. Her sweet Sheldon, Tyler, Jenni and Chris will forever mark Tuesday, October 27 in their hearts with mourning and tears of sadness.

Selfless.
Kind.
Funny.
Weird.
Smart.
Beautiful.
Charitable.
Compassionate.
Generous.
Honest.

How lucky was I to have known and loved a person like that?

It's been a long day without you, my friend  

And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again 

We've come a long way from where we began 

Oh, I'll tell you all about it when I see you again 

When I see you again 

~Wiz Khalifa

Bagging a Trophy

October in Utah is hunting season. Rifle hunting season. Typically my guys do the bow hunt or participate in the black-powder-swirling-in-the-air muzzle loader hunt for deer or elk or whatever it is that makes them feel manly and outdoorsy.

Goose can't really go hunting anymore. The wildfire season is right in the middle of the muzzle loader hunt and bow hunt. So this year it was decided to rifle hunt so Goose could go. Planning began MONTHS ago. The cleaning of guns and organizing of the trailer, gathering of hunters orange and sighting in the guns were all completed excitedly as the time to head up the mountain drew near.

Then Goose was called to a fire. In Idaho. I swear to you that I thought Mark was going to bawl like a little school girl. "My hunt is ruined."

Thank you LonePeak Hotshots. They saved the hunt for Mark and sent Goose home. Hoorah.

Much to the dismay of my family, I opted out this year. October brings harsh weather to the mountains of Utah. My walking is painful watch. Painful to experience. And the cold exasperates these struggles. I wasn't up to the task. 

The food was packed, hunting gear gathered, warm clothes found and last Friday they all took off amidst grunts of excitement and every I'm-a-mighty-man hunting sound that they could muster.

Tuesday night was the planned night for Marks reluctant return to home life, work life and everything that he endures to get to the next hunt.

Mark rolled in around 7:00 pm. "How was today?" "Did you get anything?"

"I bagged a trophy."

"What?"

Then lies spewed from my mouth. You know - that's so awesome, good for you, ohmygoshthat'ssoexciting kind of comments. Really I'm thinking "Oh man I don't want the mess" "Blood is going to be everywhere." "I have to go get butcher paper and supplies." "Why-oh-why is he an accurate shot?"

In 1981 Mark went hunting with his Dad. It was a LOOOOOOOONG time ago and I think I went with them, and Mark THINKS I went with them, but truly we aren't sure.  He, however, DOES remember a nice four point buck wandering past and shooting at the big guy. And missing. And shooting. And missing. And shooting. And missing. (You get the idea). Four shots. Four misses. Buck runs away. Mark is mad. Come to find out something was wrong with the gun. I don't remember what he said it was. 

Anyhow, he pulled out his knife and carved Mark + Linnette 1981 in a tree. 

Every once in a blue moon, the missing-the-four-point-buck story comes out and it always, always ends with "And I carved our names in a tree."

A few years ago, fire swept through the canyon that held our tree. Mark told me about the fire and followed it with "I'm sure our tree was burned down." We were sad. But what could be done? It was gone and with it gone forever was our link to the past.

Monday brought full time jobs for Tyson and Diana and school for Jaden and the kids. The camp cleared out leaving Mark and Goose to fill the freezers.

Because he hikes and camps and trudges through the mountains 6 months a year, Goose is equipped with some pretty cool gear to get-the-job-done with as much comfort as can be gleaned on a mountainside. Mark and Goose decided to backpack through the canyon and get to where the deer FOR SURE would be.

The TRUE purpose had been discussed with all in camp. Yeah. They were going to see if they could find my tree.

It was snowing. They slept under a tarp to try to stay warm. They hiked and climbed and fell and cussed and looked and looked and looked.

And just when they were giving up? They found it.

Mark and Goose bagged my trophy. My sweet husband brought me the gift of a lifetime. We both wept. We NEEDED this link. And now it resides in my front room.

Shelby's Song

Shelby turns 24 today. How lucky am I to be able to say that? She brilliantly conquered 1,2,3,....(you get it) and she will be a marvelous 24. I'm sure of it.

I almost didn't get to witness Shelby turn 24. 

Mark and I divorced when I was expecting Shelby. I was wrought with distress. I already had three kids. How could I possibly take care of four? I was sad. So sad. I was depressed. I was lonely and broke and stressed and.... you get it. 

When Shelby was young, my aunt convinced me to go to college. My self esteem climbed and I was able to see the "old" Linnette in a different light. I took a creative writing course and so began my love for writing. I learned a long time ago that I needed to write what I know. And what I know is me. So that is what I write about.

For one of my term papers, I had to write an essay that would evoke emotion from the reader. After much contemplation, I chose a subject that was extremely difficult to share. It was so personal. I am human...filled with self doubt, wrong decisions, bad actions, pain, guilt. Yes. I have these thoughts, too.

I wrote and edited and edited and edited. I submitted a rough draft and my teacher was thrilled with my attempt. She wanted to publish my writing. However, remember self doubt was my friend? I would not give her permission to move forward.

The letter is fictional. It was suggested to me that I use this style to gain more emotion. Here is what I wrote:

Dear Veronica,

Thank you so much for inviting me to lunch. It has been so long since we have been able to sit and chat about the things going on in our lives. Isn't it amazing what can happen inside of a few years time?

I still remember us together as teens dreaming what our lives would be like. I guess neither one of us truly knew that each would be faced with the ultimate test of divorce.

I recall my divorce as if it were just yesterday. I have experienced every emotion you are challenged with. You are not going insane. The emotions you feel are a part of the process of learning and growing.

A long time ago I locked all these feelings away inside of my heart. I vowed to never release them again. Because of you, I am taking this opportunity to relate the story of my divorce. I realize that no single divorce is the same. However, many who have gone through this impossible situation have experienced many of the same things as I.

I remember talking with other women about divorce and thinking that they really couldn't relate to what I was experiencing. They could not have loved their husbands as much as I loved Mark. Their hurt could not have been as intense as my own pain.

On the flip-side, there were also those who have never gone through a failed marriage. Their support was appreciated, but seemed to fall on deaf ears. How could they possibly picture life as they know it abruptly ending and changing forever? As I listened to you share your saga, my mind began to drift to so many years ago when I was in the exact situation. Every word you said seemed to grip my heart like a vise. If I can buoy you up in any way by sharing my story, that is all I can ask for. The rest will come in time. Please listen with an open heart and mind.

I was pregnant with my fourth child. Life consisted of housework, diapers, bottles and band-aids. I viewed my marriage as something that needed remodeling – not realizing that the foundation had crumbled and at any given moment the walls would come crashing down. Nothing had prepared me for the words, "I want a divorce."

However, the words were spoken and the walls gave way. My world went spinning out of control. Instantly I was faced with issues of necessity. Where to live, how to live, and more important, why to live were constant companions in my mind. These children were depending upon me to get them through this physically, spiritually and emotionally. I had no time for tears of self-pity or loneliness. The only thing I could focus on was survival.

Can you see how much our stories already seem to intertwine? You refused to show anger or pain yesterday. But, I could see it in your eyes. I remember! The only side I would show to the outside world was strength. I would not tell anyone how many hours I spent screaming into my pillow. How could I tell how often I beat the walls, my bed or my couch until I was overcome with exhaustion. Then, there was the time I sat over three hours on the bathroom sink and wrote "I hate myself" over and over again in red lipstick on the mirror. There was tremendous pain involved.

Chaos was setting in. It was controlling each of our lives. The kids were miserable. I was miserable. I was still screaming into my pillow every night.

One morning, my rope snapped. I woke up and decided I had had enough. Self-pity had won. I decided I could not support the ones I already had. The guilt was too much to bear. I could not look into another set of questioning eyes and attempt to answer the very questions I was asking myself.

I placed a call to an agency. I found out the process of giving my unborn child up for adoption. It hurt inside my heart, but I could only focus on the better life I was giving to one of my children.

I worked my fill shift in a daze that evening. I kept trying to convince myself that I was doing the right thing. Wasn't this a true act of love? My sacrifice would bring peace to this baby growing inside of me.

As fate would have it, I went into labor that night and the next morning at 8:35, Shelby entered this world. What a miracle! As she was placed on my belly, still fresh with childbirth, a revelation came to me. It was my own personal revelation that I was meant to raise this baby. For the first time in my entire life, I felt complete.

As I have heard other women tell their stories of divorce, it seems to me that there is a specific turning point for each of them. I thought this was mine. Was I in for a surprise!

In the past, I had time to treasure the joy of bringing a precious spirit into the world. I spent hours rocking my babies while crooning my self-made lullabies.

With Shelby, it seemed I had no time to relax and just hold my baby. I couldn't quit wondering when I would be able to go back to work. I couldn't afford to miss a single day. My paychecks were barely enough to survive on as it was. I had no option. Three days after Shelby was born, I went back to work. Oh! How I envied the mothers who were able to at least take maternity leave.

I was exhausted. I did not want to be working. I wanted to stay home forever and simply be Mom. I dreamed of another life so long ago spent as a family with a Daddy. It was so unfair!

Post-partum depression set in and with it came an entire year of bottled up despair. I cried and cried. Just when I thought I was in control, I cried some more. I was angry. Very angry. I was scared, lonely and in need of releasing these feelings.

When I cried, the kids cried. We held each other many nights and sobbed ourselves to sleep. Many hours were spent with each child helping to release pent-up feelings.

We learned it was okay to cry. It was okay to be angry. It wasn't okay to bottle up all the emotions that come with a loss and pretend they would go away. Therefore, the kids and I talked about everything we felt when we felt it. If laundry didn't get finished, that was okay. Housework would be there tomorrow. We were healing.

I began to revise my life of values and priorities. My family consisted of individuals. Somehow, I needed to make us whole. It was important to keep my job for financial security. Yet, I believed that family security was my primary concern. I concentrated on the kids and myself in full. I no longer brought the frustrations of a full-time job home with me. I began to separate my two identities. 

My healing began. I had a stronger foundation that would never falter again. I was still scared. I was still angry. I wasn't alone. I began to see this as a "together" kind of thing. Together we could accomplish anything.

How could I have ever known that I would be strong – that I would rebuild my shattered existence into a formidable fortress. I thank God for this opportunity to see my life with renewed eyesight.

So, my sweet friend, cry. Scream. Yell. Stomp your feet. Release everything inside of you, then pick up what is left inside and start over.

I will do it with you. Together we will rebuild your fortress. You are strong. I can see it. You are not going crazy. You are feeling everything experienced in the loss of a loved one. The only difference between death and divorce is you cannot see the one you love and run to his arms to be held forever. The ghost is forever there, yet is no longer yours.

You do not need to validate your existence according to this man. You have a purpose here upon this earth. Find that purpose and set your sights now.

I will close this now. I love you. You deserve to be happy. I will help in any way I can, but your happiness depends solely upon you. Life is meant to be lived. Live your pain now and get on with life.

The greatest thing I can give you is my unconditional support and love. The greatest gift you can give yourself and your children is a strong foundation that will forever stand the test of time.

I hope that sharing my story with you will somehow help you trudge through the steps ahead of you. If I had known then what I know now...

Linnette

Shelby saved my life. Does that sound dramatic? Maybe. However, it is true. As you can tell, I was pretty sad. In fact, suicide was considered every single day. I would drive to work and watch the trees and poles whizz by. I would begin doing the math on how fast I would need to go and at what angle I needed to hit a standing object in order to kill myself. The kids were at a day care with a wonderful "other mother" Diane. She loved the kids. They loved her. They would be okay. However, I was pregnant and I couldn't murder my child. That alone, saved me.

After Shelby was born, she wouldn't eat. What little she did eat, her tiny body refused to process. She lost weight and was dying on me. She was diagnosed with Failure to Thrive. This innocent baby did not have the will to live. And it was my fault.

One evening after work (I was working Swing Shift when my kids were young) I drove straight to the hospital and held Shelby. While we rocked and sang I was overcome with the immense desire to verbalize how much I needed her, how important she was to our family and how much I loved her. Adored her. Treasured her.

And that's what I did. I talked and talked and talked to my sweet girl well into the night. I cried and begged her not to leave me. And she began to eat. And grow. And thrive.

An angel was given to me. And I'm a better person because of it.

When The World Stopped Turning.

I was standing in my kitchen trying to make sense of the fix-the-breakfast dishes and Mark-needs-a-lunch mess. Jaden was just over a year old and toddling around my feet when my phone rang. It was Mark. "Turn on the news. A plane just hit in the World Trade Center." "What?" I said. 'Ohmygosh. That's HORRIBLE." And I turned on the television in Goose's room.

I sat on the bed and watched in horror as ANOTHER plane hit the other tower.

I called Mark. Freaking out. I couldn't comprehend what was happening. I sat mesmerized by the news when the towers began to crumble. I don't think I could comprehend the horror that was developing before my eyes.

I watched with rapt attention to the interviews. The statistics. The pleas for help. The magnitude of fear and dread that filled the television screen enveloped me. And I wept.

I didn't turn my television off for three days. I watched endlessly as responders searched in vain for life. I cried at the still images of those left behind to mourn their loved ones. I prayed for those still searching and felt a sense of overwhelming dread at the "Help Find" posters hung throughout the city.

On day three, Denise called me. We were supposed to meet on some labels. We didn't meet. We sat in silence on the phone, neither wanting to break into the despair the other felt, until Denise finally said so lovingly to me "We can do this, Linnette. Our country is strong and good and proud."

I turned off the television and have not watched the news since.

I tire of the horror. It sickens me that our news is filled with death and pain and sadness. And I want no part of that emotion. Ever again.

Laurie called me. "I remember when I was in New York and toured the Trade Centers. I was in the gift shop and there was this cute little gal that helped me. Do you think she's okay?"

I loaded Jaden in his car seat and drove to the sell-a-flag-store not too far from here. I wanted a flag. I wanted to do "something" to show my support of our nation. I walked in. I must have carried the horror I felt because the sales clerk walked up to me and said "You are here for an American flag." Then this perfect stranger held me while we both cried.

Where were you when the world stopped turning on that September day?
Were you in the yard with your wife and children
Or working on some stage in L.A.?
Did you stand there in shock at the sight of that black smoke
Risin' against that blue sky?
Did you shout out in anger, in fear for your neighbor
Or did you just sit down and cry?

Did you weep for the children who lost their dear loved ones
And pray for the ones who don't know?
Did you rejoice for the people who walked from the rubble
And sob for the ones left below?
Did you burst out with pride for the red, white and blue
And the heroes who died just doin' what they do?
Did you look up to heaven for some kind of answer
And look at yourself and what really matters?

I'm just a singer of simple songs
I'm not a real political man
I watch CNN but I'm not sure I can tell
You the difference in Iraq and Iran
But I know Jesus and I talk to God
And I remember this from when I was young
Faith, hope and love are some good things He gave us
And the greatest is love

Where were you when the world stopped turning on that September day?
Were you teaching a class full of innocent children
Or driving down some cold interstate?
Did you feel guilty 'cause you're a survivor
In a crowded room did you feel alone?
Did you call up your mother and tell her you loved her?
Did you dust off that Bible at home?

Did you open your eyes, hope it never happened
Close your eyes and not go to sleep?
Did you notice the sunset the first time in ages
Or speak to some stranger on the street?
Did you lay down at night and think of tomorrow
Or go out and buy you a gun?
Did you turn off that violent old movie you're watchin'
And turn on "I Love Lucy" reruns?

Did you go to a church and hold hands with some strangers
Did you stand in line and give your own blood?
Did you just stay home and cling tight to your family
Thank God you had somebody to love?

So I Do Nothing

I was a mother for as long as I can remember. I was made to be a mom. I looked forward to it and when I first found out that Tyson was on the way? Ecstatic doesn't even fit in the realm of how I felt. I was giddy with excitement.

The moment my kids were born, one of the first things that entered their little ears was the sound of me singing:

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine 

You make me happy when skies are grey 

You'll never know dear, how much I love you 

Please don't take my sunshine away. 

As time marched forward, that song became a staple in the Deason household. I would sing it in the car while I held their hand. I rocked it when they were happy and would croon it when they were angry, hurt, sad, or tired. 

It worked out MOSTLY in my favor. However, Tyson decided he had had enough of my off-key-simple-minded vocals. He would reach up and press his toddler-fat finger to my lips and say "Shhhhhh Mommy". And I would shush. Reluctantly.

As I sang, I stroked their hair, rubbed their back, tickled their leg, massaged their hand and I would whisper a promise to never, ever, EVER allow anything to hurt them. I would do WHATEVER I needed to do to protect them. No questions. No worries. No doubt.

I have discovered that it was an arrogant promise.

Hurts came. Broken hearts happened. Friends died. 

And there were times that my kids forgot to stay on track with their inner compass.

I love to mow my lawn. I can't wait to get out in the sunshine. Barefoot. Hair in pony tail. Tank top. Shorts. The only make-up I wear is the pure joy on my face.

Some of my "deeper" thinking happens when I mow my lawn. As I wobble back and forth in perfect line behind my mower, I think. And think. And think. Sometimes I even think out loud. I contemplate my life. My marriage. My finances. My dogs. My kids. My family.

The other day when I was mowing my lawn, I thought about how I miss my "little" kids running around with reckless abandon. Laughing. Shouting. Happy.

And I thought about my promise to always do what is necessary to guarantee my family the complete, unadulterated happiness that they deserve.

And I realized that I can do nothing.

I am learning that happiness - PURE happiness - comes from within. Although the work can be difficult, draining, painful, and scary, the reward holds a sense of knowledge that there isn't an obstacle that can get in your way. I mean NOTHING. 

Sometimes it takes a miracle. But I KNOW that miracles can happen. I was blessed with five true miracles and I know the power of each.

So pull up your bootstraps, my darling children, and get working on your happiness. Set your compass in that direction and get out there and get 'er done. 

I'll believe in you. I'll hope for you. I'll cry for you. I'll celebrate for you. And I will love you. Endlessly.

Facebook Said So.

Yesterday Facebook blew up with back-to-school pics that everyone shared. Cute kids. All smiles. Super excited to head back to school. I smiled for my Facebook friends and then? Bawled like a baby for me.

I warned you that I hate the end of summer. Okay, let's face it. Hate isn't a strong enough word. I despise it. I want to yell at it. I want to punch it in the face. I want to kick and scream and swear and blubber at it until it yields to submission. Sigh. I say it all the time. No one listens to me. Therefore, summer ended and school began.

I dropped Jaden off to school and came home and cried. Inconsolably.

I know. I know. It's not such a big deal. It's good that he's growing up. I'm lucky that he is smart and handsome and rocks school. Whatever.

I want him home. I miss him when he's gone. I hate my empty house. I despise the silence.

There. It's said. And I meant every single word.

Yesterday afternoon I scrolled through my Facebook feed and someone had posted results from a test they had taken.  True confession. Every once in a while I take these tests. I don't "share" my test taking very often. I don't know why. But I don't.

This test would list my weaknesses. I was all geared up to answer a bunch of questions so Facebook would be able to get a clear picture of who I am. I sat in my recliner. Turned down the television so I could FOCUS on the enormity of the forthcoming questions and prepared myself to embark on the intense test at hand.

I clicked on the link. A little round circle chased it's tail for a few seconds and the test was done. What? No questions. No deep dark thoughts. No truth-be-told answers. Nothing.

I'm:
100% outspoken
95% impatient
94% overly emotional
79% too honest
38% confused (Facebook spelled it confussed. Ha! So much for intelligent testing.)

First of all, how in the crap does Facebook know so much about me?

I had to laugh at the "overly emotional" statement. Ya think? I'm ALWAYS being told how emotional I am. Maybe it's because I'm 79% too honest. I tell how I feel until I can tell that nobody really gives a crud how I feel. Then I blog about it.

So. School has started. I miss Jaden. I cry EVERY SINGLE YEAR on the first day of school. I'll probably bawl even when I don't have kids at home simply because I hold on to the fact that I hate the first day of school.

I hate the end of summer.

I'll miss ice cream nights.

I'll miss sitting on my porch swing.

I'll miss working in my yard.

I'll miss walking barefoot in warm, sunlit grass.

Name something about summer. I'll miss it.

Okay. Okay. I'm proud of each of my kids. I'm happy that they are growing into epic human beings. I love that we share movies and books and thoughts and opinions and dinners and gifts and lots and lots of love.

I adore being a grandma and that couldn't have happened without Tyson growing up and moving out. Right?

I love being a mother-in-law.

I love hot soup with fresh, homemade rolls.

I love cozy sweaters.

I love curling up with a fluffy quilt and reading.

I love watching the snow fall.

I hate. I love. I'm emotional. It's all true. Facebook said so.

Random Kindness

Let's face it. I'm not the get-excited-about-the-end-of-summer gal. Since Fall is looming, school begins soon, schedules must be adhered to, the cold is just around the corner and my house is about to echo with silence, I stay in bed extra long in the mornings. Sometimes I read. Sometimes I log onto Facebook and see what friends/family are up to and what excitement is going on. Today was a Facebook day.

I scrolled through postings this morning.  I read about a teacher in California who was in WalMart buying school supplies for her upcoming classroom. Notebooks. Crayons. Pencils. Things necessary in a classroom, but not supplied to our teachers who, more often than not, reach into their own pockets to purchase these items. A gentleman in the store offered to help this gal load her cart with the needed supplies and appeared again at the check out, offering to pay for the supplies for her class. Not only did he offer to pay for what was in the cart, he ran back to the school supply aisle and grabbed another box FULL of notebooks and more crayons.

Made me feel warm and fuzzy.

I kept scrolling.

I came across another post where a girl helped someone in need pay a light bill so the woman could get her lights turned back on.

Made me think of the help I have received over the years.

I kept scrolling.

I came across a picture of some beautiful flowers that a friend of mine received.

Made me smile.

I kept scrolling.

I saw a post from a girl thanking someone for saving her life. Literally.

Made me think of the angels among us.

I stopped scrolling and began thinking.

I thought about all the acts of kindness that had been shared. I thought that at times we don't REALLY live in a selfish and ugly world. I thought that I'm grateful to have friends that share the good in their lives. I thought about how I could contribute positively today. I thought about my most favorite quote. Of all time.