Letters Home.

Undated first letter:

Dear Mom,

Please, Please write me as often as you can, every day, whenever you can. This is the first time I've been allowed to write. I have little time. I love you so much and I think about you and dad and Middle and Baby every single day. It's hell here but I'm trying as hard as I can. Please me as often as possible, I won't be able to respond nearly as much as I'd like, but read your words would mean worlds to me. I would love mail from dad and my brothers. My address is:

Hell BootCamp
YADA YADA YADA
WRITE ME NOW!

I miss you.
I love you,
Please think of me.

Love,

Teen

Second letter:

October 31, 2009

Dear Mom and Dad,

I actually have a little time to write this time. The one before this was really rushed. I'm okay, I've made some friends, and all, so far I've been doing well in PT and testing. I'm really really homesick. I think about you all EVERY night. I have a LOT of apprehension about the future. I still don't know what job I'm getting even what I want. i'm mostly worried about not being able to contact any of you, but I think that's just anxiety.

Please write me as often as you'd like, even if it's just to ramble or say you love me. I'll write John and Adam soon. If you have trouble contacting me, call either my recruiter or the BOOTCAMP PLACE. I hope I can call soon, I have no idea when I'll be able to. I have been going to church, yeah, I cried. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I love you all dearly, please write me when you can.

Love,
Teen

PS Tell Middle and Baby that I miss them.


*sigh* This is tougher than I thought it would be. I thought I would relish knowing bootcamp wasn't easy for him. Now? I sit here in tears. One out of guilt and the other out of worry. I hope he continues striving for the best. I have been sending him letters - 2 or 3 a week - but I'm upping them to daily even if it's just a card.

We're concerned that we might not be able to go down there to see him graduate because we just don't have the finances for it. Gah! Off to respond to him.

I Believe He Can Fly.

With respect to the writers and to R. Kelly...

I used to think he would never move on
And his attitude became an awful song
But now I know these steps he takes are right for him
He's moving forward and learning to go beyond
If he believes it
Then he can do it
If he just believes it
There's nothing to it...

I believe he can fly
I believe he can touch the sky
I think about it every night and day
Spread his wings and he flies away
I believe he can soar
I see him going through that open door
I believe he can fly
I believe he can fly...
I believe he can fly.....

See he was on the verge of breaking out
Somehow his silence can seem so loud
He is the miracle I can see
Somehow he started inside of me
If I can see it
Then he can see it
If he just believes it
There's nothing to it!

I believe he can fly
I believe he can touch the sky
I think about it every night and day
Spread his wings and he flies away
I believe he can soar
I see him going through that open door
I believe he can fly
I believe he can fly...
I believe he can fly.....

Because if he believes it...
If he can see it...
Then he can do it....

If he just believes it
There's nothing to it
I believe he can fly!
I believe he can touch the sky
I think about it every night and day
Spread his wings and watch him fly away
I believe he can soar
I see him running through that open door
I believe he can fly
He will believe he can fly
If he just spreads his wings
He can fly...
He can fly.......
If he just spreads his wings - he CAN fly.

Today at 6:30 PM CT my son leaves the nest. He will be venturing forth into the arms of the Air Force to learn skills that he so desperately needs. Not skills to get a job but skills in life. Skills that he refused to learn from his parents, peers, and teachers. Skills he failed to believe he needed and only believes he can get from the Air Force.

Fly my son. Fly high, go right through that open door, and soar. I believe you can do it. And you will.

My heart aches right now because I so desperately want to keep him here even with his anger and quirks and idiosyncrasies because I want to shield him from what is sure going to be a tough blow once he arrives in Texas tomorrow. San Antonio is where he is headed and we'll be there to watch him graduate.

Where once I prayed for him to just breathe...now I pray that he flies high and finds all his dreams have come true. It is my hope that he find his niche in life and that it is no where near a rut and goes straight to the pot of gold.

With blessings my child - go forth and know that my arms will always feel empty with you away. My heart will beat a little slower, my breath will catch more often, and you take a part of my soul with you.

Rest In Peace Patrick Swayze.

Your memory will always live with me. The Outsiders. Dirty Dancing. Break Point. Ghost. And many, many other movies you starred in. Your suffering ends. May your peace bring peace to your family, friends, and scores of fans who mourn your loss.

Hair: Broadway Musical or School District Gone Nuts

When my boys were younger I dictated the length of their hair because I felt they were too young to make that decision. We went with the traditional "boy" cut and kept it short but not so short that you would call it a buzz. As Teen has gone through the years he has always kept his hair short; his preference is 1/2" long at the back, the sides, and then 1" long on the top. Baby also prefers his short because when it is not short then it curls and he doesn't like it. Middle has decided that he wants longer hair that droops over his eyes and covers the left eye completely. He swears he can see through his hair and we choose not to make it an issue. I am the "pick your battles" type of parent and hair is just not a battle I feel worthy of declaring war over. His hair has never been long enough to touch the shoulders but the length of his bangs, when straight down, touched the chin. That was until I received a phone call at work this week.

"Mrs. preTzel this is Ms. IDON'TLIKELONGHAIR at Middle's school could you please call me as we need to set up a meeting to discuss Middle skipping class last week. You can reach me at 1-866-Hair-Hater."

Now obviously that is not her real name or her real number. I did call her back and let her know that I could meet as soon as I left work.

I have a firm policy for myself when it comes to talking to school personnel in front of my children: Do not undermine their authority because the child needs to understand that the adults are in charge in that building.

So as this woman began spouting her shit I sat there stunned.

"Middle, you will have to cut your hair or you will not be allowed to return to school tomorrow."

"Middle, if I have to I will put a clip in your hair."

"Middle, you're made fun of because your hair is too long."

At this point I turned to Middle and said "Middle, I don't care if you come to school looking like Cousin It from the Adam's Family (or was it the Munsters?). NO ONE HAS THE RIGHT TO EVER, EVER, EVER MAKE FUN OF YOU. NO ONE. NO. MATTER. HOW. LONG. YOUR. HAIR IS. EVER."

Uhm. You did not just say that bullshit to my kid. Yup. You did. Apparently Ms. IDON'TLIKELONGHAIR missed the memo that Middle's mom is a HUGE child advocate and probably the biggest parent advocate in this district. I am not a mama bear unless I need to be but I do advocate for my child when I feel that an administrator or teacher is over - stepping their bounds. I will not roll over and allow my child to be bulldozed.

So. I call the principal. I told him that Mr. and I were very upset. I told him that NO education personnel has the right to put their hands on our child UNLESS he was proving a danger to himself or others. Ever. EVER! If they did they would be slapped with a lawsuit so fast their head would spin.

I told him that Ms. IDON'TLIKELONGHAIR over stepped her bounds when she said she would not allow Middle back to school unless his hair was cut. I told him that she over stepped her bounds when she threatened to put a clip in his hair.

Then I told him "This woman clearly needs some level of educating on bullying and what is and what is not acceptable when it comes to bullying and harrassment. She also needs to read the district policy on bullying and harrassment because she doesn't understand it."

He agreed that she "handled things the wrong way. She also could have worded what she meant to say in better terms. But," I just hate buts, "we have decided that we will treat long hair on boys as if they are wearing a hat or hoodie. It must be out of the face so that we can see their eyes at all times."

Okay. So I went through the district's policy on personal appearance, clothing, head gear, et al. NOWHERE in that policy does it state that males must wear their hair out of their face. NOWHERE does it state that if the child does not keep it out of their hair that they will be expelled.

I will give you one guess on which mother will be going to the next school board meeting.

I will update.

I am still not smoking.

PS: Please go vote for my friend Brian's website. It's for a good cause:

By Body & Soul

Psychotic Or Just A Touch Crazy.

Well, I've passed the 12 week mark of not smoking. That is a long time to go without. That is a long time to not suck on a cigarette.

I've entered a stage where I find myself very irritable. I find myself angry a lot and weepy. I am not sure what is all contributing to it but something (or things) is and I don't like it. It makes me angry that I am angry. It makes me sad that I am weepy. So...I found myself a therapist.

Therapy is tricky. It is hard for me to sit there and talk about things when my own psychotic mind is thinking "Is she labeling me? Does she think I'm crazy?" Yes, I've wondered myself if I wasn't losing my mind. I find myself holding lonely conversations. I find myself resenting my husband because he can continue to smoke and I can not. I find myself having NO patience for anyone or anything. And yet. Yet. I also find myself feeling lost. Alone. Afraid.

This is a difficult subject to talk about because I don't want anyone thinking I am crazy. Psychotic? Yes. Crazy? No. If I'm going to be mentally off then I want to be all the way mentally off and not just "touched". :D

So I try to balance everything in a clear way that I can understand and try to take a deep breath before speaking because if I don't then someone might end up with part of their head missing.

I miss blogging but I hate whining on here all the time. I hate being a big ol' baby so I don't come and blog. I walk away and facebook instead because on there I can get lost in not being able to type every thought in my head because it begins to erase your type when you get to a certain point. (And that pisses me off.) I've thought about twitter but I find that inane and insane so I don't twitter. (Besides, Vinegar Martini hates twits and I hate that word "twit" so I won't tweet!)

(Notice how manic this post is? That is how jumbled my thoughts are and sometimes my verbal processes.)

So. There you have it. preTzel is still not smoking, hasn't killed anyone (yet), still relying on nicotine patches to get her through, and acting a touch crazy.

Teen leaves soon for boot camp. I'm sad but happy at the same time. This kid can drive me 1000 ways crazy! I think he will thrive in the structured environment of the military. He won't be here for Thanksgiving. We might be going to Texas for his graduation. (At the very least I will go.) This is my first born child and I fear for his safety if he is sent over to the war zone. He insists that he was born invincible so I should not worry so. I can't help it, my son, it is my duty to worry so.

Middle is doing okay in high school. He is still Negative Nathan (that is not his real name - I didn't want to call him negative Nelly) and I have put him in therapy because I am concerned about his mental health.

Baby is Baby and continues on his way.

So that is my update. How about one from you?

Inadequate.

Inadequate is a feeling that I am very uncomfortable with. I do not relish feeling insuperior in any situation. I also like to be prepared before attempting any task and make sure that I am relatively certain that I am to accomplishing what I set out to do.

I love to write. It is a passion of mine that has been with me for a long time. There isn't a moment that my mind isn't whirring words through my mind much like film used to whir through a camera. Click Click Shutter Shutter Click I try to shut my mind down at times and pay attention and instead I find my muse, who always seems to disappear just when I need her, tapping at my ears drawing my attention inward and not outward.

A few months ago I blogger I read lost her daughter. It was not expected. It was nothing one could prepare for. It is what nightmares are made of. In that moment I felt inadequate. Today I still feel inadequate. I read her blog. My heart bleeds in pain as a mother for her. Her strength amazes me every time I read her words on the screen. I am in awe of this woman who lost so much takes the time to share her grief with those that are hiding on the other side of the monitor.

I emailed her when it first happened. I follow her on facebook. Still? I feel inadequate. I don't have the words to say that could spare her the pain she feels daily. I can't find one word that I could say to ease that loss. Anger wells up inside me towards my muse wondering where she is when I need the words to express my grief in the wake of their own. Then I begin thinking "Your grief is inadequate. You can not feel one one - hundreth of an ounce of the grief they feel." I shut down my email and I walk away. Head hanging. Tears falling.

Every day since I have not taken my children for granted. Every day since I have made myself stop before scolding my boys. That "what if" always lingers in the back of my mind. I will step into my living room at night just to hear their noises. I will hide behind a door when they are laughing just to hear their laugh. Then I cry. I feel guilty. I feel inadequate as a mother, as a blogger, as a writer, as a friend.

How do you express your grief to someone who has grief so deep there is not enough words to being to salve the soul's wound? You can not. You can express it and move forward and hope it is enough. Even if it isn't.

Today I received an email from Brian Papa. It made me cry. For the first since the death of that little girl I felt less inadequate. I felt as if my words made a difference in someone's life. I felt as if I could express my grief and it would be enough.

Brian as much as you thank me I thank you as well. Because of your email this morning my inadequacies felt fewer and far between.

*tapping on the glass* Anyone still out there?

Hello. My name is preTzel and I have been a bad blogger this summer. My summer has been chock full of busy and I have totally neglected my blog. Between Facebook, out of town events, meetings, kids, the new dog, and L.I.F.E. I've just let my blogging fall to the wayside.

I must also admit that I was getting to the point that I felt I was either blogging about my attempt to stop smoking (3 months now I've been a non - smoker) and whining about my kids. That's kind of a downer and I certainly did not want to turn this blog into a whining blog. I'm not from Whina and I don't speak whinese so I can't type it either.

I do want to mention that my very good blogging buddy and my friend Brian Papa of PapaTV launched his really cheerful website that I feel has a lot of potential to be big one day soon. It is called CheerUpNation. When he first launched the blog I was excited for him.

Brian is a victim of the economy. He was released from his employment two months ago. With a new child (that is growing way to fast), a new wife, and a household to care for he found himself with out a job. Brian could have played the "victim" role to the hilt. He could have slumped into a depression and forgot his obligations to life. Instead. Instead he chose to launch a website to help others find laughter when, let's face it, there isn't a whole lot to laugh about when you're unemployed, gas prices are climbing (again!), and food prices are soaring. There is so much more to be UNhappy about than to be HAppy about.

If you get the chance - please stop by and give him a shout out on the CheerUpNation site. Watch the video with him playing with his daughter Sienna. That is Brian. That is truly who he is. You can't help but smile each time you watch him being a goofy dad and playing with his daughter.

If you're still reading - bless you. I know I promise to come back and then I don't...but I am going to truly try for one post a week, maybe more. I'm returning to work on Monday (GASP! Where did my vacation go?) so I'm sure I'll have blog fodder from that.

Until next time...check out CheerUpNation if you wake up grumpy or find yourself needing to smile. Pass that link on to your pals that may need a smile. I'm positive that you will find one on Brian's website.

Wow! It has been a month since I last blogged!

Holy cow! Where has the time gone? Well, I guess I better catch y'all up on the goings ons before I get ahead of myself.

I am still smoke - free and loving it. Month two is going by fast and it has been busy. But being smoke - free has been the best. I love smelling clean, I love that my kids aren't bitching about it, and I love that I don't have to budget them. YAY!

I have a new pet. His name is Wyatt. He is at the vet's right now awaiting surgery in the morning to have his nuts lasered off. My boys have all been giving me a wide berth since we announced that Wyatt had to have it done. Baby asked if that's how they do "human guys" testicles: "Do they laser men's nuts too?" I was tempted to say yes. I didn't. Mr. wasn't enthused about me getting him but he did say I could have another. "It can't be a long hair and has to be as small as Sassy." I found Wyatt on craigslist and drove almost 100 miles to pick him up. We were told he was 100% dachsund but have since found out that he is 40% doxie, 40% Jack Russell, and 10% jackass. We're think of calling him JackDox and almost didn't cut the nuts and offer him for "stud" fees as a designer dog. I see those on craigslist all the time:

My bulldog knocked up my shitzu: Designer name: Bullshit
My lab knocked up my poodle: Designer name: Lapoo...big head...short kinky hair

I think you get the picture. Too many irresponsible pet owners out there. I did call the guy we got Wyatt from and he said "OMG! My sister is going to shit a brick. She paid $300 for him for my mom as her birthday present!" The reason his mom couldn't keep him is that she got in a car accident 3 weeks after getting him and shattered both her hips. Her horrific loss and our gain.

Middle turned 14 last Friday. I am hoping for a miraculous attitude change but I am so not holding my breath. At all. He is now going to therapy once a week but I am not so sure it is going to work out as HE decides when the session is over. Uhm, don't think that is going to keep going on.

Teen was cleared for the Air Force and is going to leave on the 20th of September. It is for the best and I think we're all just collectively walking on egg shells and it is working...so far...knock wood.

Kiki doesn't so much like Wyatt. She's bloodied his nose twice. I don't think he's going to learn too fast. She has been quite cranky and then quite clingy. She loves having the reign of the downstairs without having a yapping, wet shnozz in her face.


Sassy hated Wyatt at first. I saw a side of my doggy I wasn't too enthused about as you can see from that picture. She is now moping and wanting her buddy back because they are the bestest of playmates until Wyatt's sharp teeth nip just a bit too hard. They are funny to watch because Wyatt will actually tire of playing and 7yo Sassy will go bully him by pushing against him with her chest until he begins to play again. It's nice to see my old girl getting some new life in her and I think they are perfect together.

What else? What else? Oh yes! I just spent 6 FABULOUS days in Minneapolis for a conference and freaking LOVED IT! I can't wait for the next one in November in DC. I can't tell you how wonderful it was and so nice to meet new people and get paid compliments. Wow.

I return to work in a month and can't believe how fast my summer has gone. I have a lot of work ahead of me with regards to work and with my family. We're all taking baby steps and doing it all one at a time. I hope to begin doing My Town Mondays again when my life slows just a bit and until then I promise to check in more than once a month. :o)

Day 35: Changes.

Today I woke up to the news that the beautiful Farrah Fawcett had succumbed to cancer. I first watched her on Charlie's Angels. When I played Charlie's Angels with my sisters I was always Kate Jackson's character and my oldest sister played Farrah's. She said it made sense because she was blonde. I wanted to be Farrah because I loved her smile and the way her eyes drew you in. So it is not a shock to confess that I was saddened by her passing but relieved that she is no longer suffering from that horrible disease.

This afternoon I jump on Facebook only to hear that Michael Jackson died. That totally bums me out and turns my world upside down. Michael Jackson. Dead. Right now he's singing "Beat It" while I type this and I'm still not understanding how the King of Pop could have died so young.

I swore that I would marry that man when I was 22 but by then he had gone his way and I had gone mine. He was beautiful. The way he moved. The way he smiled. The way he grabbed his crotch and made those noises made me want him even more. An icon is what he was; an idol. Someone to lust after, drool over, and a man that did what he wanted. I was very sad when all those stories started coming out about him and I ignore it because to me Michael will always be the guy in Thriller back when MTV was just starting out. I remember being so scared and wishing Michael would hold me the way he held that girl in the video. I was enthralled by his sequined glove, zippered jacket, and bright smile.

With his passing I hope his children receive all the counseling they will need to accept losing their father at such a young age. I hope they come to realize that once he was someone who embraced who he was. He was a man that held his head high. He didn't hide behind masks and subterfuge; he didn't dangle babies from balconies and he wasn't accused of henious acts against children. He was Michael Jackson. King of Pop. In my heart he always will be the man I once wanted to marry. RIP Michael - may your moonwalk light the way for those that follow behind you.

Today my phone rang and I let the answering machine answer it. It was Teen's recruiter calling letting him know that he received his medical waiver and that he has been accepted into the Air Force. I admit that I paced for awhile and almost cried. I know. I know. This is the right thing and it is what he wants but...the mama in me cries out in fear. I don't want my son going to war and seeing that - I don't want him living it. I want so much more for him that, for whatever reason, he's rebelling against. I wish I could wrap him in my arms like I did when he was a toddler and whisper to him how much I love him and how much I hope all his dreams come true. Press little kisses along his jawline as he giggled because he's so ticklish. Wash the dirty from between his tiny toes. Blow raspberries on his belly. Now? That would be considered child molesting...or incest because he's so old so I think I'll pass.

Changes. I am not so fond of them. I am listening to "Man in the Mirror" right now by Michael Jackson and it's funny it came on because that is the song that I always attributed to Teen. Sometimes I wish we could just stop time and reverse it and do things a little differently. Sometimes...changes suck.

Day 32: No Resolution.

My cousin told me yesterday that if I didn't smoke once through the next 24 hours that there would be no reason for me to ever start again. I am proud today that I stood strong and that I did not smoke. I haven't smoked. The urge was very strong but I chose not to.

I can not believe the stress level that has been in my life for the past 24 hours. I can't believe that I survived that stress and am sitting here tonight listening to Teen's baritone talking to Baby and am wondering two things:

1. WTF is Baby doing up at this hour?

2. Will Teen ever find the source of his anger and work through it?

3. (Yeah...I know, I said 2!) Why is there so little choices for a homeless person in the city of Des Moines?

There was only one shelter in the entire city that had room so I took Teen down there and I could not leave him there. It was filthy. The place smelled so bad that it took everything I had not to vomit on the floor. From the outside the building looked nice but once you stepped through the locked door it was like going from heaven to hell.

So I talked to Mr. after calling the one place that place referred me to and we sat Teen down and made a contract with him. It is a chance we're taking but what else could we do besides leaving him there? It is an easy thing to say "He's OUT!" It's a whole other chapter to find a place to put him. I am not a person that can easily turn her back on her children no matter what it is they do. But...if Teen so much as says one angry word Mr. told him *he* would make damn sure that he was not only "out the door but that you will never be let back in." I hate that word. "Never" Never is a very long time and maybe Mr. will put him out that door but he will be allowed to come back at some point. I can't "never" my kids.

When my parents were mad at us as adults they would change their phone number and change all the locks on their doors even though none of us had keys. I could not do that. Unless Teen attempted to murder one of us I can't imagine doing that.

Anyway - Teen has agreed to our very strict terms and next Friday he will call the recruiter's office to find out if he gets into the Air Force. I will be hoping and hoping that they accept him. I think he needs it. He needs that structure and he needs to fly away from the nest and make his way into the world because right now he's floundering and that is not good for any of us.