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)