Here on the frontier, There are falling leaves, Although my neighbors are all barbarions…And you? You are a thousand miles away. There are always two cups on my table.

Archive for the ‘Problems’ Category

Most Don’t Matter

Now I am a 60 year old white female . a resident of Baltimore Maryland for over 30 years and until this incident I have never encountered racism of the sort you are about to read in all  these years.

 June 30, 2020 I  stopped by Home Depot to pick up some dirt

This June day I went straight to the check out lane. I smiled at the check out person and said “Good Morning, I need  to purchase 4 bags of ‘Miracle Grow Garden soil’. The young check out girl seemed distracted like she didn’t hear me. So I said. “Excuse me Miss? Miss?” Was this child hard of hearing? I didn’t understand what was going on. She was looking off in a different direction. Then she says, ” I can’t help you?” “well that’s ok I just need a few bags of ‘Miracle Grow Garden Soil’ see it’s right here” I pointed it out on her picture layout register screen. But she was having none of it. She picked herself up and walked away. I looked at the line of customers behind me, every one of them black. Not one would meet my eyes. I see.

I guess the joke was on me. A 20 year old black girl wearing Gucci sweatpants and on the job, is claiming her revenge on a period of slavery she never experienced with a 60 year old white woman with parents having escaped Hitler’s concentration camps not even 80 years ago. As for this girl? Does she matter? No, she does not. Does she matter because she is black? No. she does not. Does she deserve respect? Yes. she does. because she is God’s child. Does she deserve a job at Home Depot where she can play out her racial biases? That’s a question for her manager. As a rule none of us matter. What is it to matter anyway? Mattering is a human choice. If you are lucky enough to have family then you might matter for some years. But you know people pass. I don’t matter. I know that. My dog Cujo matters. Because my dog matters I’m going to euthanise him soon. He’s peeing all over my apartment and his breathe is terrible with gum disease. I know he’s in pain but I love him so much. But the vet says it’s time. So, I have to.. he matters… anyway As a rule people don’t matter. If your goal in life is to stand in the street and cry you matter that’s a soft dart. Want to hear something really huge about yourself. I mean Mindblowing!!! Get Ready! Sit Down! Each and Every one of You is Sacred!  Much better then making everyone say “Okay Already, you matter! Can we go home now?!” Non-Believers? No worries, you don’t have to believe in God or Church. He believes in you! God chose to create each person that’s here. God Chose you individually to be here! You lucky stiffs, with this realization the people of this world have no choice but to look upon the faces of one another and show honor and grace, kindness and understanding.

You are perfect.

So when you see one another, Sacred souls that God chose to put on this Earth, remember most people don’t matter to any person maybe not even to their own self, but each is sacred and loved by God, so honor him with kindness and understanding, exercise your own sacredness.  

Remind yourself, God loves him as much as me. Be kind. Be the sacred soul you are. Let your true greatness shine and become the person you were born to be. I promise you will feel your heart grow with the understanding of Truth!!! That this is why you are here…and this is why you were born…. and that’s the only thing that really matters.

Let Go And Let God

Demolition of a small hut in our backyard.

It was a hard job.

Husband told me to leave it be.

But it was a fair Sunday,  and baby Hoo was sleeping.

So I took up a hammer.

Being unfamiliar with demolition I circled the hut a few times just swinging the hammer and thinking ,

“How do I do this?  How do I do anything?  I just do it.

Piece by piece.  Board by board.

Husband came home surprised to see the hut gone.

“You did that ? You couldn’t take down the hut!”

I could and I did!

It’s like my big sis taught me years ago when we got a rejection letter from a private school for one of my boys. She said,”What are you crying about, grow up, no does not mean no.”

Really?

She was right. I fought for an acceptance for my son and he went to that school.

Don’t tell me what I can’t do.

Oh but the  seismic challenges of the last few months.

A son losing his way.

A daughter walking into a relationship that was so very wrong.

The evil pain creeping from my back to my leg and settling in my foot.

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Let go and let God.

That I have learned, and this I know.

Challenges?

Get out of my f**king way.

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Son.  My beating heart.  Keep your head up.

Love and service, baby. Keep saying it.

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Pretty little girl will one day see that love knows no bounds. Only time and distance lets children scope the scene of their sad day when parent wrenched their sorry behind away from trouble.

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My personal enemy? The creeping fire.  Pain.

I will walk through it to drop to my knees so baby boy Hoo can reach me,  and I him.

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It was a fair Sunday.

The hut needed demolition.

I took up the hammer and brought the hut down.

Just let me pull nails, and crack wood.

Let me struggle under the weight of heavy wood.

This is gmom,

peace out.

I Need You Mom. No I Don’t. Yes I do.

Rose. Age 21. Daughter number 3, sixth child.

Fell off a moped during the final afternoon of labor day  beach vacation.

Broke both right forearm bones.

Road Rash” up and down her legs.

Drove her back to Baltimore to Union Memorial Hospital and the best upper extremity surgeons on the East Coast.

Now she has some hardware in her arm. A plate, pins and screws pulling the broken pieces all together. It’s been a long couple of weeks.

Before her surgery, she cried. I spoke softly to her and said the prayers from her childhood to comfort her.

After her surgery I slept by her. Gave her the pain medications, help her with all her needs, took her to the doctor and made repeated calls to him when she had questions.

I wiped her tears as she saw the track surgical scar run down her arm and the new shape of the back of her hand.

I handled the insurance company, her school medical leave letters and hooked her up with a decent physical therapist.

Now it’s 3 weeks post-op and the girl is back to normal.

Offended if I ask her if she wants me to cut a tag off the back of her shirt.

The cuddle-muffin who lay in my bed night after night is angry that I appeared at her PT appointment.

Miss Independent is back and I am left wondering if that momentary bond we shared when she was in pain and scared ever really happened.

By the time a man realizes that maybe his father was right, he usually has a son who thinks he’s wrong. Charles Wadsworth

When China was a little bug, (my daughter not the country), her sleeve caught fire. We were lighting Hannukah candles when she reached over the burning flames. I slapped the burning sleeve out. Husband and I examined her burned sleeve and her arm amazed that the flames never touched her skin.

Something similar happened to Egg, (my second daughter not chicken fetus). We do a lot of candle lighting in our religion. She wanted to blow out the Sabbath candles when her hair caught on fire. My mother standing nearby and I brushed the fire out as fast as it started. Egg was fine.

She turned her 3-year-old self around and smiled at us wondering why we were patting her head. She never knew how close she came to setting herself on fire.

If you are a parent then you know what I’m talking about.

You’ve swept food out of little mouths before they choked. You’ve caught your child mid-fall in the playground and set them on their feet to run and play.

For older kids. We fill the gas tank when we know they are going out. We check the tires. Twice.

The 17-year-old boy that comes to pick up your 14-year-old daughter for a date!?

That boy never makes it in the house! You know what I’m saying?

We watch out for the foreseeable problems our children are headed toward and run interference.

Kids, they are like the quarterbacks running with the ball. They may not see their teammates (parents) behind them tackling the opposing players, but they are there.

Funny. If a touchdown is made they dance around like monkeys. If an opposing team member takes them down they are just as likely to look around at their own team(again,it’s us,parents)  and say, “Where were you guys?”

It’s often a thankless job parenting. Until our kids have children of their own they may never understand why we do what we do.

“I’d catch a grenade for ya, put my hand on a blade for ya..”.  Heard that song?  It shouldn’t be a boyfriend singing to a girl.

It should be the parent’s anthem.

This is gmom.

peace out.

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Norway. Now What. Gmom’s Thought’s From Baltimore

For those following my blog.

Husband is home.

Mission accomplished.

I may be able to loan him out to FEMA. He is good.

It’s quiet in Baltimore tonight. Warm and sweet. Cujo and I are doing our usual patrolling of the grounds. Heat lightning is firing every few minutes.

Unless you live under a rock you have heard about the atrocity that happened in Norway on Friday. A lunatic planting bombs in Oslo then went on a killing spree at a youth camp.

Security is not tight in a country unused to such violence and better known for awarding the Nobel Peace Prize and mediating in conflicts, including the Middle East and Sri Lanka.

Breaks gmom’s heart.

Man dresses up like a police officer to gain access to the summer camp than mows down the kids with an automatic weapon.

In Boro Park, New York a few weeks ago, 8-year-old Leiby Kletsky walking home from day camp was picked up by a man who murdered and dismembered him. He put the boy’s body part’s in a red suitcase and kept the child’s feet in his freezer for himself.

In the search for Leiby, 3000 people hit the streets. A store’s surveillance camera caught the boy going with the man in to his car leading the police to resolution of the case. The boy was an orthodox Jew, the man he went with wore a yarmulke and looked liked an orthodox Jew.

Here in Baltimore recently there were 3 cases of men banging on residents doors saying, “Baltimore City Police,open up.” And the people did. People were tied up, men were shot, homes ransacked.

Use to be you could tell children if you are lost go to a woman.

(Now we have Casey Anthony on the street)

Use to be you could tell children if you are lost go to someone in a uniform.

It’s a different world.

What do we tell our children now?

This is gmom,

peace out.

I Found My Happy Place! He Wears Diapers!

 

The organic baby made his first project in daycare!

Marshmallow Fluff smeared on a paper plate with Fruit Loops stuck on it!

 

And he’s a cheap date!

Ya gotta love that!

Next time I go looking for my happy place I’ll start looking while on my knees but this time…

I’ll open my eyes.

Love to all.

This is gmom,

peace out.

Where Is My Happy Place? Can I Borrow Yours?

Have you ever been told to go to your happy place?

Go in your mind to the one place on earth that you most want to be,

A beautiful beach.

A mountain meadow.

A rolling hillside in Ireland.

A holy place you once visited and never forgot.

So many times I’ve coaxed women, who in the clutches of labor pain to envision their happy place and go there.

I’ve spent hours whispering to them words of encouragement, that they can endure, that they can breathe through the most intense pain, and most often they do. I leave them holding their perfect beautiful infant at the breast.

In the last few weeks, so many people have told me to go to my happy place.

I’ve searched for it. I’ve even tried physically to go there.

What a crock.

I’ve gone through 6 labors unmedicated.

I’ve had my spinal nerves ablated.

I’ve done it before, I’ve found the strength to go …somewhere.

But now…I’m lost.

My happy place must have gone with the recession.

I can’t feel my strength, my breath.

How can I find my happy place if I can’t find myself.

Where did  I go ?

Down The Rabbit Hole

For all  of you following my blog husband is still away overseas.

Here is what has changed at  home while the man who holds the string of your kite is gone.

Number one: You might accidentally kill one or  2 of your children.

Normally, in the night Bart comes in, he drives ones of the biofuel trucks and comes in at 3 or 4 a.m. I’ll half wake up and hear him kick off his shoes, shuffle into the shower, scrounge around the kitchen and go to bed.

But without husband here, I immediately reach for the gun.

I go up the stairs gun poised, ready to defend against any intruder. It never dawns on me that Cujo is upstairs happily bopping around.

Bart turns and sees me. Without a word he takes the gun out of my hands, removes the clip and tells me to go back to bed before I hurt myself.

Okay,sorry.

Number 2: You might let your guard dog sleep on your husband’s $200 Brooks Brother’s robe, maybe even on the bed.Everyone needs to be special sometimes.

Number 3: You might stop taking showers  often. I mean what’s the point? This goes for changing into nighties as well.

Number 4: You may suddenly realize that a plate of french fries makes a perfectly good dinner, even better while eaten in front of the TV.

Number 5: You may realize that you don’t have to water the “effing lawn everyday, or pick up your dog’s  poop. I mean who made these rules anyway? Poop is organic..it’s like compost.

Number 6: Turns out you don’t have to go and check on your neighbor just because it’s 103F outside. Just a big “ole, hope you’re still alive Edna!  Yelled out an open window does just fine.

Number 7: You have the opportunity to go though all husband’s secret guy stuff. Unfortunately this has yielded nothing! Nothing!

I hope this give you some good ideas for the next time your superhero flies off.

This is gmom.

Down the rabbit hole.

peace out.

A Man’s Life

My husband is away.

Doing family business. Kind of heroic stuff. So while I sit home and do my small tasks, go to work, annoy the children, and worry my face into a topographical map. He took matters into his own hands.

He sat in the American Embassy for 8 hours to update his passport in one day at a cost of well….don’t ask.

He bought a ticket out of the country. Remembered his blackberry and my laptop and the boy is gone.

So what is a man’s life anyway.

I’m sitting at his desk. As usual it’s a mess. Little papers with names and numbers, messages scrawled all over it. A filing system I bought him for Father’s day sits unused right next to the monitor. Post it notes stuck to the wall!

Hand sanitizer, a mug one of the kids made eons ago filled with maybe 50 pens, most that don’t work, a calculator. His work jacket sits on the back of the chair smelling of trap grease..and him.

My dog Cujo’s cage sits right by his desk with his jar of treats right on the desk. He hates Cujo.

At least he always says he hates Cujo..

My desk is different.

I dust it.

I have a total of 2 pens and a legal pad.

There’s face cream and an eyebrow tweezers.

A jar of Exedrin and vitamin water.

3 pictures of the children.

My laptop.

Zyrtec.

That’s it.

This isn’t what I thought marriage would be like when I was a little girl running around with a pillow case on my head playing ” getting married”.

I never played “marry” with my girlfriends and said “Let’s pretend we have no money, our houses are too small, our children have problems , our husbands never pick up their dirty clothes and don’t even know how to load a dishwasher…yeah let’s do that!!!”

I never thought “marry” would be a messy desk in my ultra clean home, and a stinky jacket on the back of the chair and dust bunnies underneath the desk that look like shag carpeting in the worst color ever.

When I played “Marry” as a little girl I never fleshed out the guy in the fairytale, he was always an obediant shadow person.. you know a silent partner. I don’t think I even envisioned the guy living in the same house. He just brought a diamond ring and that was about it for his part. Ha!

I never imagined the silent partner would turn out to be my  hero.

This is gmom,

peace out.

 

Sex Offender Registry: Check Out Your Neighborhood Today!

One should feel safe in their own neighborhood, wouldn’t you agree?

 In my zip code there are 157 registered sex offenders.

 People (if you can call them that), that have raped children, hurt them

 sexually and get their nuts off on trading pictures of naked children. 

The second thing that bugs me are the innocent parents who stupidly put their children out on nthe sidewalk hailing down cars to buy a cup of lemonade.

I stopped today by a little girl to buy a cup.

 I never got out of my car. She reached in the car window to hand me the cup.

I held back the the money so she had to reach in again.

I asked her, “If I wanted to know your name, or how old you were or where you lived, what would you say?”

“Well I live right here at 34 Ivy Drive, I’m 8 years old and my name is Emily.”

You’re a smart girl. Where’s your mama.

I went to the door.

I tried as gently as possible to talk with the mom.  This neighborhood just isn’t safe for her child to be on the street like that.

“Oh I am watching her from the window.”

Lady, while you’re watching from the window. I’ve hauled her into my car.

Think about it.

I left with a loud “Who in the hell do your think you are!!!” Ringing behind me.

157 registered sexual offenders in my zipcode.

How many in yours?

This is gmom,

peace out.

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