Mea Culpa North Dakota

So, not too very long ago ,we entered the most Northern part of the Dakotas. In that post, I may or may not have possibly said some very snarky and rather derogative things about North Dakota. I'm writing this to let you know that none of that has changed. North Dakota hasn't changed. It's still flat, still ugly, and mostly cold. And that's just the stretch from Fargo to Bismarck!!

                                                                    Ooof-dah!

By the time we hit Bismarck, I'd had enough. Still fighting some sort of infection made worse by allergies (Can you really be allergic to an entire State??), and mentally worn out from the rain, cold, and flat, I turned into the open arms of a waiting hotel. I have five little words for you: "indoor water park" and "hot breakfast". We made out camp side breakfast there in the room, and had gloriously loooong and hot showers. And then my head hit the pillow.

 I knew no more.

In the morning, the 14yo and the 9yo went by themselves into the lobby and ate breakfast. (Oh, with such fondness do I remember the days of playing at being grown!) Then my wonderful children returned and took the 7 and 4 yo's down to breakfast while mother slept in!! What a gift of pure indulgence and joy! When I again opened my eyes, it was to a hot breakfast in bed!! So we ate, and watched some Andy Griffith Show, and then went down to the water park. Yup. Ya read that right, I said indoor water park!! And we had it to ourselves!! 

And when my 7yo came up from the water, look of elation spread across his face, shouting those magic words,

"I CAN DO IT!!"

I knew that this whole trip was worth everything all over again. 

From Bismarck, we headed South into an Indian Reservation. Please forgive me that I don't know the name of the tribe to whom this land belongs. Let me just say this: No matter what anyone else may think, that piece of land is some of the most beautiful land I've seen in my life. 

In closing, I want to say this,

I'm sorry, North Dakota. You aren't altogether bad. In the end, you managed to take my breath away.

~Tricks Of The Trade~

OK, I'll pretend as if everyone out there wants to know how I'm coping with 3 boys, ages 4, 7, & 9 in the back seat for long hours and days on end. 

Here's a post on how we do what we do. (warning: this post gets a bit preachy. It was written when I was cold, wet, and hungry. )

First off, my kids have been taking road trips from their earliest memories. When we lived in Northern Va, I had them keep their bags packed for an overnight stay. I would make a plan and pile them in the van with no explanation as to our destination. They became accustomed to long hours when we would go into DC for the day,  hike some few hours South in the Shenandoah Valley, spend the night with Nana and Pawpaw.  Traveling well is something I wanted them to each learn. 

Now I've put what they've learned to the ultimate test.  Cross-country baby!

First thing I had to realize is that my kids are just that. Kids. They are learning to be adults, they aren't there yet. I am constantly telling them that life is about mistakes, we make them in order to learn. Another few  favorite mantras?

 " You won't learn any younger." & " If that's the last time you make that mistake, then you're lucky." 

So, if I had to  give you advise,  realize that you kids are only small people learning to be adults. Chill, parents.  This means, that on a road trip,  I endeavor to work exercise into our trip. When I'm turning into a rest stop, I get them all ready as if for a race, "Alright guys, here we go. Who has their shoes on? Get ready for seat belts. We're gonna run. Who has their buddy? Remember to stay together." 

(OK- another safety soapbox for parents:

                        Rest Stops are the best place for predators to do their stuff. My kids are constantly trained on this fact. They each know that anyone they see could pick them up, throw them in a car with very little effort, and be gone and out of state within hours. After which they would be sold on the black market into slavery. Think I'm full of it? Slavery is much more rampant today than in the days before the Civil War. Check it out. Save your child from being a statistic. 

OK, Safety Soapbox done.)

Back to the rest stop. So I pull up…… to the parking spot farthest from the building. It's then a race (Watch out for other people!) to the bathrooms. I always lose. Always. Not because I don't give it my best shot- gravity just hates me more. So we run in, do our do, then race back. And race back and forth and run to this tree and that, then race into the truck, then race to get belted up, then I floor it onto the highway. (Sidenote to any Police reading my blog. Speeding is against the law. I know. I never speed. Never. Ok, maybe just that once…. just don't ask my kids. I have a V8, it can't be helped, really it can't.) So this is rest stop fun and exercise all in one. 

                                                                                 (taken during a pit stop)

Now what do we do on the long hours? DVD's? Nope. Not really. I have a player in the truck with a small library, I'm just not a tv fan and don't encourage my kids to be either. Here's my logic: I was raised without remote controls for my tv. I had to WALK  just to turn a channel! I think my kids can live without rotting their brains over the miles.  Prior to the trip I asked all mighty Google what he thought about kids games and road trips. I was met with a virtual bathub full of great ideas. I sifted through and took some and went to the closest Dollar Tree. There I bought a small container for each boy and filled it with some toys. They decorated with stickers, put in some things of their own, and we're done! The containers fit under the seats and now there's an answer to the "I'm bored" problem. 

Yes, I have a basket of snacks always available. I'm saving that for another post.

I also love LOVE books on CD! There is so much out there available. I bought a dramatized version of the Bible and the kids ask to listen to it over the hours. One of our absolute favorites is the Jonathan Park series. It's fantastic and 6 hours goes by before they even know it. We've listened to Les Miserables twice over. 

Now for a disclaimer of truth. Yes, I have heard, "Are we there yet? I'm bored! Can we get out?" more times than I want to have heard them. But really, folks, they are kids! I'm bored. I'm tired. I want today to be over. How can I expect my kids to be more patient than myself? My boys like to wrestle in the back seat. If I tell them to stop it one more time I'm gonna lose it. "Do you want me to pull over?!!?" does become a regular out of my mouth as the miles get longer. I'm not perfect. 

But, I'll tell ya what, I'm seeing things in my kids that I never noticed before. Some things I like, some I don't. Some things make me proud, others make me wonder what I can do to train them better. I'm seeing myself as well. I'm seeing lots of things I hate. Lots of things I want to go away. 

If you ever have the ability to travel with your family, do some research, find out what you think will work, and GO FOR IT!! You'll never regret it. This is the most difficult and amazing trek I've ever experienced. 

~I'm Stronger Now~

Our society finds shame in abuse. 

Shame.

Embarrassment.

Fear.

A Social Pariah.

Just to be clear, this is  shame for the abused, not the Abuser.

Marry a drunk? We've gotta support group for you. As many times a week as you want. Marry a heroine addict? Womanizer? Thief? Every shoulder in a twelve mile radius will be proffered for your use. 

Marry an abuser? How did he do it? I see no scars. Where's your proof? In short, most of society screams to the abused: "I don't believe you. " 

You find your life being spoken of behind your back in hushed tones. Always the downward glance. The shame. 

Now imagine that times five. I had to endure much more than fleeing my home that day in August. When the dust began to clear, I found myself homeless, my vehicle had died along with the family dog, and everything on which I had based the previous 14 years was a lie. Oh yeah, don't forget about the abuse. 

"I can't be." 

"It's not that bad."

"Isn't that a convenient truth."

"He was so good looking!" 

"I don't believe you."

"But he was nice when I knew him."

"Why did you leave him that gun?" (As if)

And…. my personal favorite, "We'll never know the truth." (from his parents, no less)

I've attempted to start some public discourse on abuse since, and have met a wall of silence. It's a problem. We all know it's there. But it always happens to someone else. 

I AM YOUR SOMEONE ELSE.

Today, as we drove over the prairie in our not-so-covered-wagon, I knew that this trip was teaching my children so much more than the topography of this Great Nation. No one will ever have them turn their head's in shame. NO one. I've stood in the gap for them and will continue to do so. I will teach them, by great example, to suck all the marrow from life, and to never look down. Terrible things have happened to us, yes, but those terrible things are merely a stepping stone to greatness. Those terrible things will never define them. 

I have been given four wondrous gifts from God. He is doing great things in each of them. Their past is merely their past, and their futures have yet to be written.

Society (YOU, dear reader), needs to learn to turn abuse on it's head. By talking about domestic abuse in all of it's forms, we turn the tables on the abuser. The Abuser lives and thrives in the dark and secret corners of life. Turn on the lights by keeping open dialogues with everyone in your life. 

Life is wondrous and precious,

Pay it forward.

~Untitled Ramblings ~

Today we learned an important lesson and set some new rules:

#1. No decisions can be made about the future of our trip when it's raining, we're driving through flat land, or my blood sugar is  low.

All three of these were in effect when I decided to poll the inhabitants of the truck about just going home.

No joke.

I even called a friend and trusted advisor to ask her opinion. I was done. Ready to throw in the towel. I'm still sick. I started with fever, aches, and chills on my birthday (May 9), then moved onto a sinus infection of sorts, and now I'm troubled with a hacking cough coupled with massive sinus drainage.  And that was before I saw the gas prices at $4/gal!!!!! WHAT????  I come from the South, ya'll. I don't pay $4/gallon for gas.  EVER.  It's insane! No wonder no one lives here!!

I'm tired, guys. Mentally worn out. And I don't know why.

When my world turned upside down and Andrew committed suicide, I made up my mind to do what I could for that day, for that moment. I learned to do what was in front of me to do- not to borrow trouble from another day in the future.  Life became a series of steps. Find a home, feed the kids, school, doctors appointments that they'd never had, the list was endless and insurmountable. But it was tackled ever day, and it dwindled, and was eventually conquered.

This trip was on that list. It was the last item . Not really, I guess. I still have to take care of myself. I have to see the doctor, get new glasses (but I rock in my glasses ya'll), yadda  yadda.

So I keep wanting to be able to write something profound at the end of each day. It ain't happening. Nothing profound. Unless,

Unless you want to talk to the 4yo the past few days. He's been opening dialog about Daddy. He's been candidly asking questions about Daddy's death in a way only the young can ask. I have an answer ready for them. I repeat it every time. It's not enough.

So tomorrow, I will make a point of sitting with him alone, and talking with him  about Daddy, and why Daddy is dead. Suicide isn't something about which we should be ashamed. I'm not. Nor do I ever lie to my kids. We've had enough lies to last 5 lifetimes. But how to explain something to a child which no adult can grasp themselves?

My solution is amazing in it's simplicity. "Daddy had an accident. It wasn't with a car, or with anything you can understand. It was so strange, that even big people don't understand it. I promise that I will tell you all about it when you're older, but not now. If I were to tell you now, you would only have more questions. So, I can only tell you that it was an accident- for now. "

It's 10:23pm and tomorrow we begin a Southernly turn back into the world of the warm.

North Dakota, A Short Essay

So we entered North Dakota.

North Dakota is farmland. This means it's flat:

And, North Dakota is sorta, kinda big. And empty,

and flat:

(My windshield is buggy)

 The State goes on and on

 For miles even.....

 It has a lot of trains......

 And sky. And farmland. And flat-ness......

 And you can't even tell if I took these over a short period of time, or days, ...
because North Dakota all looks the same...

 But we can watch movies.....

 Oh. Look. More. Sky.

 And the occasional traffic...

And yet another train

 And North Dakota has some dirt roads

..... And now you never have to drive through North Dakota, because I've shown you what it's all about.

The Throat is Still the Size of a Small Country

Heidi's Brain: "What is this pain thing I'm dealing with in the throat?"

Throat: "You'd better talk to the adenoids, boss, I think she's still ill."

Brain: "I thought you fixed that problem already? Didn't you have it out for her on her birthday?"

Throat: "Not my problem, boss. Not my problem."

Brain: "Hey you, adenoids! What's the hold up?"

Adenoids: "Why's it gotta always be our problem? Why's it gots-ta be us all the time? She's got a bad back but no one ever yells at that, do they??"

Brain: "What's the hold up on the sore throat? I thought we'd agreed to fix that already? (And stay on topic)"

Adenoids:  "Not sure what the problem is, boss. Probably too much cold shower back in Missouri coupled with lack of sleep added to that whole, crazy trip thing? We'll get on it though. Start the swelling-down process ASAP."

....Amazing what untold miles of flat-ish farm land will do to a person.

Last Day in Iowa

I often wonder what affect my loneliness will play on my health. Since Andrew's death, I've been sick in bed with fever about once a month, average.   I look at my skin and can see the age creep up a tad faster than before.  I have aches in my joints more often than before.  Until now, however, I've not stopped to consider how my loneliness might affect my interpersonal relationships.

You see, being a widow means that there is never any break. I have no father with whom to discuss parental issues. There is no husband who might come in at the end of a bad day to put his arms around me, and for just that moment, make the worries of the world disappear. I'm not even the "single mom" who gets a break every other weekend, or even once a year. I am singular. Ever step we take, must be led by me, no one else. I look at my children and who they will become and know that I must be the one to lead them there.

Flat tire? I better know how to change it.  Heavy things to carry? Gotta pick up at least one end while the boys struggle with the other. Truck needs oil? I'd better know what to do. Light needs changing? Me again. Every answer to every question must come from me. Every sickness, broken foot, sleepless night, bad dream, fever, special day, bumped toe, dirty laundry, play date, hanging picture, hanging shelf, every thing all of the time. It's all on me. Not a date. Not a day off. Nothing.

And I can never once lose it. I mean, they can't know that they are a burden or a nuisance, or anything more than anything less than normal.

So here we are on this journey to something more and I'm already used to always having all the burden on me. All of the responsibility is mine.

Where is there time for laughter? Where is there time for working on something other than my children all of the time? After all, they didn't chose this future for themselves and they need the best foundation that a parent can give them. Is that not the job of us all?

(I'm not purposing to be depressing here. It's just the state of things now. This is my life. My reality. It's not a life of my choosing per se, it's the life I've adopted. The alternative would have been much worse.  I was telling my friend, as we walked together today, that his death was the only path available. We never would have been free otherwise. So my widowhood is a mantle I have with pride. It was my choice to run that afternoon. And I chose the correct path. So don't feel sorry for me, please. I don't feel sorry for myself, nor do I allow the kids to feel self pity.)

I see two friends laughing and want so badly to take a part in that same fun. I just don't have it in me right now. I have so much going on in my head at every moment, I don't have time to stop and take part in the joke. Not now. Maybe some other day.

So I see one side to that path. It's not a pretty path. I'll give until I've given all.

What choice do I have? Get married?

Being here at ________'s house has put us in the middle of a healthy family. One of the healthiest I've ever encountered. We've watched as pleasant children do chores with joy in their heart. Been a spectator as the children obeyed the parents out of a desire to have a good relationship with mom or dad.  It's been astounding. It's been wonderful.


For the first time, I see that I am lonely. I've not really hit this depth of lonely before. I've wished to not be alone, sure, but this is different. Here I am, looking in on something so healthy and normal and realizing- not that I want it (although I do, don't get me wrong)- but that I don't have it. I don't have it. I never had it.  I return to the road with an added sense of self.

I started this trip on the same mindset I've had for months now. "I not only don't want  to remarry, I don't even need a man in my life. They're just more trouble than they're worth, will bring nothing to add to me, expect me to give to them, and leave me feeling more drained than before. I don't need one, don't want one, not looking for one." But today some sort of curtain was lifted in front of my eyes. Today I saw something that I don't have but would like to have. I see the inner workings of a solid marriage and realize the strength that gives each individual. I'm lonely for that.

(Winchester, Virginia)

I Get Sick, And The World Doesn't Stop

So, the past few days, I've been sick. Not the *sniff*sniff*- cough-cough- type of sick. It was something much more severe, actually. I somehow had the "please-send-me-to-the-hospital-cos-I'm-in-so-much-pain-I-want-an-I.V." type of sick. Fevers? check. Chills? Yup. Pain in my joints? You betcha. The latter was so severe that I was wishing for a heated pool so that my joints might have some sort of reprieve. It didn't happen. After much prayer, my fever broke somewhere around 4am. Now, this morning, I was still pretty weak. However, by this afternoon, I was feeling much improved. The only thing that seems to remain is my very sore and stiff neck, and my sore throat.

None of this is what you want when traveling. To see a friend. Whom you've never met. In person at least.

So we've been at a friend's house here in Iowa for the past two days. I'd never met her in person until I pulled into her drive. Yet we'd been friends for years. We met on a website mostly traveled by homeschoolers. And then we emailed. And then we called. And called some more. And the years went by..tick. tick. tick. And so I devised a plan to come and finally meet her. Maybe get to see Missouri for once, and it might be healthy. You know, clear out some of those cobwebs that were hanging around.

Hey! While we're at it, we're only going to be 9 hrs from Mt. Rushmore, kids! Wanna go see Mt. Rushmore? (Queue quizzical look from kids which led to a long study of the history of Mt. Rushmore) "Why sure, mother dear. Let us travel to that great and historic place" (I swear, they sounded just like in my brain.) Ya know, after we're there, it's only a hop skip and jump to Deadwood....and Denver...

Then I started getting emails from long time friends asking us to travel just one state more North or West to come and stay with them.  And so it began, our cross country trip planning. But we have to get back before the summer hits because we have to hit the East Coast at least two times before Autumn comes again.

But I digress....majorly...
My friend. Whom I'd never met in person. The one to whom I owe this trip. (Which means I can totally blame it on her, right?) We've been with her and her lovely family for the past few days. It's as if God picked us up and set us down right in the middle of healthy sunshine. Everywhere I look is smiles and help and caring. The 14yo is playing like never before with newly made friends. Pleas for adoption have taken place.  Each of my children have made new friends.

Let me explain something to all of you "healthy" people reading this. When abuse occurs, friendships don't take place. Friends aren't allowed. Ever. Every bit of every moment of our lives was controlled and set to a timer. There wasn't any time for friendships. Each day had it's own room which had to be cleaned from top to bottom (furniture moved as well) and bleach was used. Even the walls.

So, stepping into the world of 'normal' for the first time ever, I'm seeing how wonderful it is that my kids are acting normal. For the first time.

And this is only our first stop if many. I can't wait to see what comes of the rest of this journey .

A Photo Post

OK, I'm not a picture taker. My 14yo is not a a picture taker. My 9yo is not a picture taker. I don't even own a camera outside of phone. However, I have a dear friend who is very visual and keeps nagging, asking for some pictures from our trips thus far.

So, without further ado, I give you my crappy pictures.


We have a large road atlas of the US and with each state, the kids color it in blue.

On our first stop, we ran across one of these. A real pay phone!  And, are you ready for this? It costs a dollar a call!

OK, the next few pictures are reminders of the world of Cars (the movie) and how that movie was, indeed, inspired by a cross country trip.
                                         Luigi's Tires:

                                               DinoCo:

OK, just to further prove my nerdiness, can anyone guess what book/movie this was in? (I won't even begin to get on my soapbox about why Peter Jackson owes me hours of my life and all the money I spent on his stupid "rendition" of the best books of all time.)

And the following are all shots of our very first night. Along the banks of Reeltree Lake in Tennessee.  (AKA: flippin' freezing campsite):

So there, Little Miss KnightsAndMaidensGathering, you have your pictures. You may read my blog now.

Goodnight to Another Day, Another Year

So, in 9 minutes I'll have another birthday.


Driving through Missouri today, I saw a house that  reminded me of one Andrew and I wanted to buy a few years ago. I almost stopped the truck. I can not accurately describe the emotions that ran through me. A seeming lifetime of dreams up in smoke in an instant.

Dreams have an interesting way of evolving. I don't imagine too many people have the same dreams at 40 as they had at 20. However, speaking for my own, I wouldn't have the same dreams today had I not had those same dreams at 20.  I'm reminded of a poem by Robert Frost, "as way leads on to way..."

When we met, we both "had a heart" for Africa. (That's missionary speak for a country towards which one feels a calling) We were going to go and work with orphans. It was going to be great. But then, after the children came along, we didn't want to force that way of life upon them, so our dream morphed. Other dreams came and went (no ocean going vessel for us). Some stayed long enough to see fruition. (He was finally awarded his patent with the USPTO) While yet others became every day speech, we were going to live in the country. Raise our kids on good air, clean water, polite manners, and hard work.

That's the dream that stuck.

Over time our "where" would change, and our "how" would evolve, but the dream of the country became a constant.

So there it was. The house on the hill. Overlooking the little valley. Just as we wanted it.

Here's the rub about a suicide without a note, I'll never know the truth. I'll never know what was him and what was the lie. What was the Andrew he wanted me to see, and what was the actual man. How many of those dreams were there just to dangle the proverbial carrot in front of my face?

The dreams I had with Andrew died with him along with so any other things on that day in August. I'll just never know.

I loved him, more than was healthy to love another human, I loved him. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, he killed that love. One day I awoke and knew that my love for him was dead. I told him as much. Oh, I agreed to stay with him. I'd do it for the kid's sake. But the love was dead.

The odd thing is, though, that the dreams never died.

A house, on the hill, in the country, with the clean air and the little stream. Chickens. Don't forget the chickens. I still desire it all.  (I'm working towards it, as a matter of fact.)

So, Happy Birthday to me.

I'm not meaning to sound too introspective. I'm just saying what's on my heart here. The past 9 months have brought about more changes than I could have ever hoped to ask. What's in God's plan for the next year? I'm looking forward to finding out.

I turned a corner a few months ago and realized that I'm the person I always wanted to be. I'm living the life I've always wanted. Yes, no country, no chickens, but I'm content and beyond content never the less. God is good all the time, even when I'm not looking for it.

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

I've caved in.

I lost my temper again last night, (and again this morning). But, after a wise email from a friend, I sat the kids down and we discussed my triggers.
~Making a mess without picking it up.
~leaving me to do all the packing

While I can totally get it that my kids are...well...kids, they won't be learning how to live life any younger than today. Also, it is my duty to my children and their children to teach them how to be contributors to any relationship and life in general. Therefor, they need to learn to work and fail and succeed and make mistakes and roll with it.

All of it.

Last night was foggy. As in: "can't see one foot in front of your feet" foggy. As the fog came in off of the river, it came straight through the walls of the tent. I had two kids with me in bed and we were miserable. One of those times when you're so cold that, while you sleep, you never get rest. So each of us awakened this morning only thinking of going to sleep tonight.

So we climbed back into Barbara the Suburban after packing the camp site. We were in the thickest part of the Missouri Ozarks. (why does my spell check keep telling me that Ozarks is wrong?) We've been traveling all day and still have yet to leave the state. It's been hot (Barbara has no A/C), and we've been working hard to push through the rain (our first storm) and mileage. The boys have been doing their best to keep still, but today has been their limit. They've been squirmy and short tempered.

So now, a mere 2 hrs from tonight's destination, I pulled off the road and payed for a hotel room. I know. Crazy, right? But worth every penny to have wi-fi, the Brady Bunch on the telly, and hot hot hot showers for each of us. The boys are besides themselves because only in hotel rooms are we allowed to jump on beds. So this room makes me feel like a cop out, but it came in the form of some more wise advise in same wise email. So, this room is a bit of calm and heaven before the next leg of the journey.

Tonight we won't be camping. Tonight we will be at a friend's house. While there might not be any Brady Bunch, and there will definitely be no jumping on the furniture, we will be with a family who has loved us through the death of Andrew and all of the turmoil he chose to leave behind.

Well, gotta run out to Barbara and start her up. Wish me luck.

Day Three. May 7, 2013

7:20 pm

What I've learned today:

1. Even as a Mother on "vacation", I will have to get up before my children if I wish to be productive. 

2.Guilt trips only serve to create a barrier between my children and myself, they will never cause my children to either A.) work more or B.) feel sorrow for me.

3. This trip is too big for me to take on alone.

4. This campsite does, indeed, have warm showers. (You just have to be willing to stand in the cold water for over 8 minutes)

5. My tent is rain proof.

6. Children are happier with a purpose. People are happier with purpose.

7. I can start a fire with under 30 matches provided I pour the tender with fuel first. (It's my secret, I'm planning on a patent with that one).

8. Always remember to leave the truck on when running the computer off of the power inverter.

9. Always carry a jumper cable.

10. Certain roads in the Ozarks can be likened to roller coasters if one goes fast enough. 

Tuesday, May7, 2013

ALLY SPRINGS MISSOURI

If I could somehow blog via thought process, this whole thing would be a lot more interesting. Yesterday would have gone something like this:

6am: "It's bloody cold in here. Who's going to get up and start the fire? Oh right, wet campsite= no fire." ….. quickly falls back to sleep.

7am: Sleep

8am: opening the tent , "This is why I came! How lovely!" I do love opening the tent and being the first one awake. Sometimes it feels as if I'm the only one awake on the planet and creation and I are sharing some secret together. 

The bathroom/shower room is heated. Bliss

By 9 we were down the street to little cafe (totally a cop out on a camp breakfast, but hater's gonna hate) 

11am: on the road and so very happy. "We're doing this! Really!!"

Somewhere around noon, we crossed the Mighty Mississippi. More important than that, though, was our entrance into Missouri  One more scratch on my Bucket List. Go on, laugh. But in reality, many of you have locations on your bucket list. Paris. Rome. Greece. India. Alaska.    Well, mine just happened to be Missouri. 

You see, a life time ago, before things were too very bad, and I still had dreams, Andrew and I made plans to move here. It was going to be the end of all that was bad and the beginning of everything that was good. We were going to start a homestead of sorts. Chickens, eggs, milk, veg, everything. WE never made it though. One dream changed into another and I never made it here.  I spent hours looking over maps and real-estate listings. I can tell you the names of most of the small towns in the Ozarks and where they are located. WHat major sources of tourism there are. I wanted to see the Ozarks.

And for the first time ever yesterday, I did. One of the most bitter sweet things I've done in 8 months.

I've been asked, "How can you love a monster like that?" Well, the complete truth is, I never loved a monster like that. I loved the man whom I married. I loved him for everything he could have ever been. I loved the dream of him, the thought of him,….. just not the truth of him. 

From noon to 4 we drove. As I looked out over the Ozark hills, the ones I'd dreamed of for 10 years, I knew they weren't my home. It felt so disconnected with my thought process. Here was something I'd always wanted, and now I knew it was something I would never take. Compared to the back water hills of Tennessee, the Oazrks look like a cheap China knock off.

4:30pm We find our campsite. It has showers (and there was much rejoicing). The campsite is close to perfect and we are planning on staying here a few days. It boasts my two prerequisites: showers and moving water. If you've never slept outdoors next to moving water, you have no idea what you are missing. (Although, there are some water ways that might not meet this. India and a certain river in the middle of Manila come to mind) 

4:40 Truck unloaded and chores begin. Setup somehow becomes my responsibility. Now, let me step aside here and say that my kids are trained. They know that everyone must work together and this is how we all have fun. Prior to leaving, I worked with each of them on their area of camp responsibility. If it was kitchen setup, then we practiced it in the living room. You get the picture. My kids know what to do. So imagine how full of pride and love I am when they all walk off and leave me. I should have stepped up right then. I should have stopped them and brought them back. "They're young, they've been in the car all day. Let them explore." I reason. The stove stops working. The lantern is broken. It begins to rain. I break. 

4:41pm The 14yo discovers that the showers only have cold water.

9pm After many and many attempts at making the fire hot enough to boil fire (Bear Grylls I am not), we eat a dinner of bacon and eggs.

We climb into the sleeping bags no later than 10:30pm. 

From across the tent, the 9yo tells me, "Mom, I'm having a great time. I wish we could go on forever." All the while, I'm thinking I'm too tired to write, this is a bust and a shame and I want my hot water back. 

Who would have thought I was that addicted to tea?

Sunday, May 5, 2013

What Have I Gotten Myself Into

So, first night, first day can be summed up in one word:

Wow.

I think I'm crazy and stupid. I mean, who does this? No one, that's who. I'm sitting in a tent with 4 kids, listening to the  intermittent sounds of rustling sleeping bags, water lapping on the shores of the lake, and a crying/whining 4yo who has decided he hates his brother and can't sleep next to him so he'll just sleep over here but now he's lonely and why can't he sleep in my bed and he just hates this whole thing. 

How does Mommy feel? Well, as I just told my kids, "Leave. Me. Alone. Pretend I'm in my bedroom with the door shut. Everyone here gets times alone except for Mommy. Just sort it out and leave me alone." 

Yup, this is going great.

I'm actually glad that I didn't have any preconceived notions about this trip.  I attempted order and a minimum of planning prior to us leaving. When the tent came in the mail, we took an afternoon to set it up and then left all directions at home. (So good for me that I'd already done it once, right?)

I figured it would be cold so we bought warm clothes. Now, take a moment and let that statement sink in. I live in Tennessee. It doesn't exactly get cold there. I mean, even in winter, it's never really cold. So imagine what fantastic luck I had when looking for fleece. On sale. In May. The salesgirl was wearing shorts and had that polite smile that only Southern women can produce. That smile that says, "Honey, I like you. I want to help you. But you're crazy and as soon as you walk away, I'm heading into the back room to bathe myself in hand sanitizer. Mmmm-K?" But…you know… she was polite about it.  So the few items I was able to buy (after 4 stores), the 14yo thought it would be best to forget them at home. All that to say, I'm glad that I didn't overly plan. I knew going into this, that it was going to be a learning and growing experience for us all. I just didn't plan on the learning part to be so dog-gone annoying and leave me so short tempered. 

It took 20 minutes for my tea water to boil. 

The 4yo left his shoes behind…..at church.

Who does that???

I'm scared, actually. I really had the thought that I should just go home. I could spend the night in the closest hotel and go home and not tell anyone. It was especially hard when setting up the tent. We had the only tent in the campground. Everyone else had a Camper, or a Fifth Wheel, or a Trailer. Not me, I plan on doing this whole thing with a tent. How much work is this going to be? I have no one to help me? Am I really going to go through this every night? Will we learn anything in the end? Shouldn't I spend my money in a better manner? Is this all for nothing? Does it even have a point?  Andrew would never have done this with us. Indeed, I begged him for years. It really costs so little to camp, it just takes a lot of work. He was awful, but he was my husband. I miss him sometimes still. 

I'd like to end this post with something profound. Something that shows that I really have this deeper perspective about things. About my kids. About life. I'd like to bring it all together, like so many puzzle pieces. But I really can't. 

So I'm going to turn off my Mac (Shameless plug there) ,and crawl into my air mattress (I have 2 cracked vertebra so don't make fun of the air mattress, ya'll), and play Triple Town on my phone (cos I'm hooked and there isn't a Twelve Step for Triple Town yet). Tomorrow, we'll have eggs and bacon for breakfast, play a bit of soccer, take a walk around the campsite, and try to figure out how to pack that stupid tent back in the case. 

Oh yeah, and somewhere in there, I hope to find a large portion of Purpose and Meaning hitchhiking on the roadside.

Just Another Start to Yet Another Blog. (and there was much rejoicing)

Tomorrow is the big day.
Tomorrow we will begin.
One widow, four kids under 15, and 10 states.
Why?

I have no idea. Because I can. Because someone, a lifetime ago, told me I wasn't strong enough, wasn't smart enough, wasn't capable enough to live one day without him. Yeah, well that's worked out so much differently than he planned. I am. I can. I will. (Totally channeling Stuart Smalley from SNL there.)

So, here goes? There will be no real fanfare. The truck has been packed for a week. There is no one to say goodbye. No champagne bottle against the bow of my ship. Just climb in the truck and go. Although , I have to admit, she does have a name. The Suburban's name is Barbara. While the kids think it's cute and poetical, I was completely thinking of Telly Savalas in Kelly's Heroes calling that kid "Barbara". (Google it)

Wish I could say here something about the 'bigger picture" of what we hope to achieve with this trip. I can answer with only a little background on me. I became a widow less than a year ago when, after fleeing from an abusive marriage with my children, my husband of 14 yrs killed himself. The first 6 months were spent in a blender, the following two months were spent getting our footing. And now, 9 months into life as we've never lived before, we find ourselves caught up in a need to define ourselves. Each of us, from the 4yo to the 14yo, have been told what to do, when to go, where to sit, how to dress, and what to say. For me it was a scant 14 yrs. For them? The kids? It's been a lifetime. All they've every known.  So we begin a journey to start life, not necessarily anew, but to start living for the first time ever.

This past January, the 14yo and I took part in the local Polar Bear Plunge. Standing in the freezing air, feet inches from the water (a mere 34f + the ice they throw in for effect) we were hand in hand. Along with the other hundred people around the pool, we all knew that we were about to do something epic. Maybe we wouldn't like, but we would each be different when it was over. That was momentous for the 14yo and myself. As the countdown hit zero, we jumped in, feet first, and froze. And had the time of our lives. It was scary, and cold, and crazy. It was also necessary to help purge us of the bad and face the New Year with clarity. That plunge helped me to see that I could change, even being so close to 40. (The dreaded 40 of which I've heard so much)

So tomorrow, we climb into Barbara and leave, driving off the cliff of all that was, and into the dawn of what we can become.