On the issue of seeing my kids (2 nieces and a nephew) this past year has been a rollercoaster. My sister, who is the mom of Ramona and Beezus, has had undiagnosed mental illness that has progressed to a level that is affecting her ability to make good decisions. Her use of alcohol has also increased. This mix, along with being a mean person, has made her harder and harder to deal with. With the older two girls she often made the decision to send them to me when she could no longer handle parenthood. Sometimes she made the decision before things went bad, other times it was after the cops or dcf had visited her home. It was always before they had to enter the system. 

Eleven years ago, she had another baby, let's call her Mae. When Mae was eight months old, she locked all three of them out of her house. The three of them were out on the street in Wichita. Their dad had a cousin who lived there and was willing to drive them the four hours to my house. This is when the decision-making skills started to noticeably decline. This is also when she became more verbally and emotionally abusive to those who tried to help her.

She then went on to have another baby Finn. While she was pregnant, she quit drinking and took Mae back into her home. They moved back in with me when Finn was 2.5 months old. The older two had stayed with me when Mae went back so now all four of us were a family along with my son Lane, who still lived at home. Two years later she was pregnant again. She called to tell me and said she was sorry. She did not move the other two back in immediately. She waited until Finn's birthday in November, she did not let me see them for a few months. This was the start of her withholding them when she was trying to hurt me. Ray was born in March. I kept them several times for a week or two at a time so she could work. Her job is of the nature that allows her to work for a week or two then take a week or two off. When Ray was eight months she called me crying, I could hear Ray screaming in the background. She said she could not take it anymore. I drove to Wichita and brought all three kids home. For over two years we lived happily as a family. Yes having three young kids in my forties was tiring, but I had the older two girls to help. Beezus had a baby when Ray was one, so the family was growing.

Then she decided she was going to move closer to the family. She moved twenty miles away. The plan was to slowly integrate the kids back into her household. I do not remember why she became angry with me. There was no slow integration. She showed up at my house and took three kids who did not recognize her and put them in the car. When they cried she said "you will be fine," in a sharp tone and drove off. A lot of drama ensued in her life, lost her job, wrecked her car, went to a mental hospital, started a pattern of calling 911 a lot, seemingly for attention. The kids were back with me.    Then she quit drinking. We had a whole summer of the kids having both of us. We took them swimming together, had birthday parties, it was a good summer. Then she started drinking. I had lent her a pickup. It was old and did not go in reverse, there was no air conditioning, but it was good for driving around town. Then a house fire happened. The night before, when we realized how drunk she was Beezus had brought the kids to my house. She got even more drunk and started calling to demand we bring them home. She called our mom to demand she get them back for her. She was able to get out of the house that night, but nothing was left. 

The kids stayed with me while she spent the only money she had on hotel rooms. As she ran out of money and options, she became more erratic. She finally agreed to come stay with me. Then one day she loaded up the kids and all of their stuff in my pickup and left town. They were homeless for weeks, then ended up in a homeless shelter. I went six months without seeing them. That was the longest stretch of time without them since Mae was born. It hurt, that was the intention. As life does it stabilized, she found a place they could live. Over the next few years more drama happened, there is always drama. Kids were with me, not with me, removed from the home for three months. The pattern of calling 911 too often continued. The pattern of not letting me see them for months at a time continued. Whenever she needed help she would call me and I would get to see the kids until she did not need me anymore. A couple of times she completely forgot to drop the pretense and would say things like if you give me this I will let you have the kids next weekend. Sometimes, did not fulfill her end of the bargain, sometimes she did.

Then, last Friday the kids were removed from her home. They spent some time in a shelter. Tuesday they were placed with me. We are happy. Today, Finn asked me to get ingredients for sundaes. He made both of his sisters a sundae then sat down to enjoy his. 

Being Alive

     I have vowed to post regularly; to use this time to explore my thoughts and feelings about life. Today, after a rather uneventful day at work, I could think of nothing to say. I shut my laptop and decided to work out. This is new, the working out. Before the move I walked a minimum of 4 miles a day. After the move I have focused my attention on work. Exercise has become sporadic, I might walk 5 miles on my day off, then go three days doing nothing. I do have a stand-up desk, but that is not a free pass. I can feel myself getting weaker, less nimble, less quick. 

    After my workout, I felt I deserved to watch a movie. I almost rewatched The Whale. I have spent part of my day in Moscow Idaho, in that movie. Fun fact, I once lived very near Moscow. That was a long time ago. Instead, I watched Joy the Birth of IVF. I realized that unintentionally I have been watching movies about life and death.

     It started with The Man From Earth, which explores longevity of life and what you can do with it. There is not a sequel, shut up it does not exist. The next day I watched The Whale, which deals with death and dealing with the mistakes that are made and the good we do. The saddest part of that movie, for me, is when we see the apartment from the outside and realize he lives on the second floor. How long has he been isolated? Then in his last week four people come into his world. He has forgot to live until it was time to die. Tonight, I watched a movie about giving birth, but even more it was about what can we give to others, what good can we do.

    I realize I have thrown up a hodgepodge of thoughts and references. I also realize that if this essay were graded it would be called sloppy. But life is sloppy, thoughts are sloppy, expression can be sloppy. After giving all of this much thought I think that all of us deal with life and death, no matter how long or short our lives are. More important is the idea of being alive. What do we do with this life while we have it?  What can we do to give value to our life?  I suspect the answer lies in giving. I guess it is for each of us to decide what we give. We can give help, opportunities, life, love, art......

The Whale

 I was soaking in a hot bath with tears running down my face, I thought 'If Mick walks in, I will have to explain this.' I was not ugly crying; I am prone to that. It was as if I was over hydrated, and the water was just leaking out my eyes.

That sentence brings a lot to unpack. Let's start with why was I soaking in the tub? I do not know if you noticed there was a storm overtaking the USA shaped like Bezos' rocket ship. It plowed the KC area, so I spent hours shoveling snow, just to free my cars. Afterwards, I climbed into bed with a bowl of stew and a few slices of Italian loaf. I warmed up while watching The Whale. I loved the movie: it moved me Bob. As I often do when I watch a movie that moves me I read about it on Wikipedia, I read the about it on IMDB. I read the reviews. Then I did some stretches; I ran a bath. Suddenly, while I soaked in the tub it all boiled down into that one thought I was waiting for. 

It all came down to one idea. We can talk about the acting, which was amazing. Or the make up, which was also amazing. But, the writing, it hit nerves.

We are all slowly killing ourselves while trying to save somebody else.

That is it; that is all.

 Well, here we are starting another year. This morning, I was reading an article on Substack about attention being our number one currency. This made me start thinking about my attention and how I am spending it. If where we spend our money shows what we value, then how much more so does how we spend our attention. 

Having a day to spend all to myself, I decided to take a long walk. I walked with no distractions; I did not put on my headphones to listen to a podcast or music. The time was used to think about the word attention and what it meant and how I was using mine. Mostly, my mind just wandered around. After more than an hour of walking I thought about the word attention. I repeated it a few times. The word intention followed it into my thoughts. What are my intentions in life? Should my attentions lead to my intentions? Quality was the next word that came in through the open door. Quality? What does quality mean in the context of my life. Quality of life, that is a phrase we use often when discussing death, but what about when thinking about how to live one's life?  What would a quality life look like to me? What brings me joy? Who do I want to be when I am alone? How do I want to spend my attention? 

These are the questions I am going to start answering for myself. I feel like I have the beauty of a blank slate to write on. I have moved from one corner of Kansas to the opposite corner. Kansas is a big state, so just in distance it is a big move. Bigger than that is the move from an extremely rural area to being 30 minutes from Kansas City.  I moved from a house, town, a county where I had lived for more that 20 years. A place I had raised my family and knew everybody to a place where I can feel alone. What do I want to write on this blank slate? What brings value and quality?

 I was shocked to see that I have not posted since 2018. Life has moved so fast. Today has been a day of rapidly changing emotions. In the last few years I have moved across the state. Mostly to be closer to my babies. I do not get to see Ramona, Beezus, or Bezus' very sweet child as much, this breaks my heart.  I also have had a promotion at work, which is good.  Today, I was driving along in the country thinking about what I have gained by moving here. I have met so many people who are a positive in my life; I am happy. Then on the way home I was listening to Joni Mitchell.  I suddenly had a vivid memory of Jason videoing  me while I sang along with a song on the radio. He titled it, "This is why I love you".  He was the son who loved me for my quirkiness. I was listening to both sides now by Joni Mithell when I had this memory. I listened to it twice.  I also cried. This kind of saddens is the good kind; I remember what I had, and what i lost. I had a son who adored me. I loved him. I am luckier than most.

ok, full disclosure, I am angry and drunk, so I may regret this in the morning.Since my last post I have only seen my babies once, they came down for Easter. I took that Monday off and had one of my best days ever. I worked in the garden while they played in the mud, jumped on the trampoline, and swung on the swing-set. It was a beautiful day.

Now it is the first of May. My bf played "Hey there Delilah." That is the name my sister's new baby. It made me nostalgic, so I texted my sister. She had an excuse for not letting me have them and told me to come there. I had only asked for a weekend, with kids I have raised, not too much, but the answer was no.

That is not what hurt the worst. My bf, who is generally thoughtful, told me not to take it so hard. I asked him how he would feel if somebody had taken his children for a year. He told me it was not the same thing.

Of course, I cannot love somebody else's children as much as he loves his. But I do. I have my own children. I have a point of reference. I do love them that much. Some people may not be capable of loving other people's children as their own, but I am.

hopefully this anger will be dissolved by morning, because we have started the moving in process.

Sharing children, a picture of me pouting

Last night I drove my babies to their mom so she could spend some time with them.  The plan was that she would keep them until Saturday, drive to my house, we would do Christmas on Christmas eve and she would drive home on Christmas. Driving on Christmas sucks, I know, but she had to work the day after Christmas and did not have a baby sitter. I was excited about having the kids for Christmas. I have had them for most of their childhood and for all of their Christmases. The same is true of their older sisters.

While we were switching out their car seats my sister told us, Ramona was with me, that she was not coming down for Christmas. She has to work the day after and cannot afford the drive now, because she spent all of her money on presents for the kids. This is not unusual. She has never been good at managing her money. She gets excited and goes shopping and then can not afford necessities. That is one of the reasons I have her kids so often. She has rarely been able to budget for daycare, but she can always afford cigarettes and beer.  I was hurt and angry when I heard this, but I just finished putting in the car seats, which is a job I hate, buckled the kids in, said my goodbyes and drove the 2.5 hours home.

My sister never intended for me to raise her children. She loves them and wants to raise them, she just struggles with the day to day parts of it. She is great at buying gifts, taking them to concerts, Disney on ice, taking pictures, all of the really fun parts of being a mother. It is in those in-between weeks, when kids just want to play outside, or have fun that she struggles. She spends too much time ruminating about her life, about how other people have wronged her to focus on the much more important time at hand. I cannot say I am not unhappy about this. Sure, I wish she would be healthier mentally and be happy, but I have loved the time with her kids.

Once she became pregnant she quit drinking. I am always proud of how quickly she just quits when she is pregnant; I have seen other addicts unable to do that.  Now that she has quit drinking she wants to get her life together and have the kids move back in with her. She kept them for six weeks this summer because Beezus went to stay with her and babysit. When Big Mac came home he was a little more clingy. I think he had felt a little abandoned by me. That is my biggest worry. Mac is all sunshine and smiles. He loves to take my hand and run through the yard. I worry that we are damaging him, by the long periods away from me, because he does think of my as his primary caregiver. Yesterday, he would not let Ramona put him in his car seat. She came in to and told me that he was afraid I was not going so he would not get in. I went out and buckled him, he gladly got in once he knew we were all going.  When I had buckled him in the second time, in his mom's car, he was fine until I said goodbye, then he started screaming. He was still screaming when I left. It broke my heart.

I realize that this is what many divorced families go through and that most kids do deal with it in time, but I hate it. That is one of the reasons I decided to stay married to the boys' father for so many years. I did not want to share holidays or have them leave me for weekends. Childhood is short and I wanted to be selfish with theirs. I really did love the time spent raising my boys, and maybe I am using this bonus time with Mac and Madds to relive it.

I started the drive hurt. I was crying. I could not believe she was being so insensitive to me. I felt that after all of the help I gave her it was a slap in the face to promise Christmas until I took her the kids, than to take it away without a thought. I felt like just quitting. I do not have to come running when she needs help. I could not answer my phone and let her work out raising children on her own. Then I progressed in my pity and wanted to run away from everybody and live as a hermit. That wiser part of me was listening to this and saying things like, 'you are just angry because you are hurt.' and 'how will this help Mac with dealing with this.' I also know that my sister does not hurt me on purpose. She is more considerate of my feelings, than she is of most peoples. She just does not have it in her to consider most peoples' feelings at all. By the last hour of the drive I was more reasonable. I know that I will continue to help raise these kids, because I love them. I will do it on their mom's terms because I have no legal rights. I also know it will turn out ok because I have been through this all before. The hurt, anger, tears, and resolving to do what is best for the kids, is all part of helping to raise other peoples children. It turned out well with Beezus and Ramona, it will be just fine this time. To be honest, I will take all the in-between days of playing, eating, hugging, and normal childhood days over the Holidays. Those in-between days are when childhood happens.