The Things They Leave Behind - #1

When my dad was young and living on The Farm, he would spend most of his time outdoors.
In the Fall and early Winter, he would spend time hunting.
In the Spring and Summer, he would spend time fishing and walking the fields.

For many years, my dad had built a collection of Indian Arrowheads, pipes, pieces of pottery, and the like from his time spent scouring.
There seemed to be one spot in particular that was a hot bed for lost things.

My dad's collection became quite large of these forgotten artifacts of another time.
Many exquisite arrowheads of many different colors, pieces of pottery, even teeth.
Lots of them.
(He didn't tell me about this until a month ago.)
In fact, he had found such an exquisite piece - a rather large and perfect arrowhead - he donated it to a museum in our state where it was on display until my early childhood. Where it is now, who knows.
Anyway...
Time slipped away, the young boy became a young man and an even younger father.
This hobby of his fell by the wayside.

I remember being a young girl and sitting with my dad for countless hours (willingly) examining arrowheads and other pieces of hardened, ancient earth that he had found.
He would tell me the story behind each piece and I would sit transfixed by what these were.
Small little bits of history that my dad had unearthed on The Farm.
I would very selfishly ask if I could have them.
And he told me one day, they would be mine.

As I got older, dad & I would walk the fields together.
Examining deer prints or other animal tracks.
Talking about the migratory patterns of geese and other winter-time escapees.
We would both walk and talk with our heads down.
Searching the ground for any piece that wanted to be found.

At age 11, I began getting really pissed off and utterly frustrated that I had never found anything.
As dad & I walked the fields, I said You know, all of this time you and I have been out here, looking, searching, and nothing. You have cases and cases full of arrowheads. Do you think you found them all? Do you think there are any left? I can't believe I haven't found one!
I looked down at my feet and there it was.
The one and only arrowhead that I have ever found.

Growing Up - Mothers Be Good To Your Daughters

Without getting too much into how backward & dysfunctional my mom's side of the family is, I'll just say that it always felt like it was me and them. Or them & me. I love my mom & her side of the family the way you love breathing. They were not at all encouraging, positive or "right". I somehow always felt smothered & any move I made in a positive direction would land me with remarks like: "you think you're so much better....", and "just because you do _____, don't think you're any better than us.", and "you're going to end up pregnant at 16, just like you're mother." Yeah. Needless to say, that my mother carried on her own traditions of negativity & smothering. I felt like the very essence of my personality was something to be extinguished. And man, did she (& they) try. It was with that, that I became rebellious. Actually, the whole chicken & the egg theory could apply here. Based on genetics, I think I had a very strong pull towards rebelliousness, but by trying to do the very thing she didn't want, my mom ended up with that exact thing. Fundamentally, on every level, my mom & I are just far apart on everything. She's ultra-pure conservative. I'm ultra-liberal. She's bible beating religious. I'm more of a spiritual-to-myself type person. She's not into anything intellectual. I am. And so on, and so on. My mom & I have traveled a long, hard road together. Me feeling uncared for, pushed aside, trampled on & barely provided for, emotionally, as well as, my mother's keeper. I imagine my mother has her feelings too, but I can't speak for her.

When Ravioli & I got pregnant, I vowed to never inflict any of the madness that I was exposed to on the baby-to-be Connor. None of the instability, the emotional warfare, the stifling of the personality. And that's just the stuff that I can mention here. I vowed a different life for my children. 5 years later, I falter. I stumble & bumble & barely can find my way sometimes. But I know that I am in-tune with my children.

Last year was a tough year. I felt all alone as a parent, as a woman. I was fighting innumerable battles in my attempt to find help for my son to overcome whatever was going on with him. I knew in my gut 'something' was going on. But everywhere I turned, I got the "you're crazy.", "he's just a boy.", "he's immature." and the like. It got old. It got old feeling so alone. Through so much strife and toil, we finally figured out what was going on with Connor, got him some help, got him in a preschool program that fits him & all is well. I'll never forget how vindicated I felt when we finally got a diagnosis & lastly, when we finally got him into the preschool. I didn't want a public declaration that I am "The World's Best Mother" or anything like that. I just wanted people to say, "You are his mother. You know what's best for him. Good for you for fighting the good fight for him." In a word: validation.

And most of all, though I had given up on the notion long ago, validation from my mother. To her daughter. As a (now) mother. I never thought the day would come. But it did. And it felt better than I ever thought it would. And I needed it more than I ever thought I would.

We were on the phone (my mom & I) and she said how she ran into an old acquaintance, who had asked about Connor & Gracie. My mom told them how they were doing and said, "Tabitha has done such a great job with them. I couldn't have asked for a better mom for those two kids than her. She does such a great job." I was stunned when she told me. And maybe the friend scenario didn't happen. That may have just been her way of relating the story. All I know is that my mom has grown up. I am still growing. And that is a huge step along the road that my mom & I have traveled together.

Tabitha Twitchit

Julie over at the blog formerly known as thinking about, - through a story of her own - inspired me to tell my story of someone with the same name.

In 2nd grade, we got a new girl to our class. Her name was Christy R_____. Which was my last name at that time. I didn't think too much about it. It's a rather common last name. However, a few months later my mom had come across something funny on her credit report. Come to find out, Christy R_____s' mom was Donna M. R_______. Which was my mom's full name at that time. Weird, huh? Not to mention, they lived only two blocks away from us at that time. Well, it gets even more weird. It turns out that Christy has a younger sister & Donna has another daughter. Named Tabitha Ann R______. My name at that time. Now, how freaking weird is that??? My mom got her credit report cleaned up - it was something that had to do with a mix-up between this woman's name getting attached to my mom. Easy thing to do.
We moved away. I'm sure they moved away & we didn't really think that much more of it.
Fast forward oh, I'd say about 15 years or so.

My mom works at an organization that provides employment to Autistic adults. They were hiring. I was looking for a job. I go in, fill out the applications, get the drug screening paperwork, the background check paperwork. No problem. A few days later, I get a call from the Human Resources lady & she informed me that "something showed up on your criminal background check." I was completely puzzled. Beyond a few tickets spread out through many years, I have never had any police contact. Let alone have been arrested for anything. I call our State bureau of Identification, request a copy of my criminal history (I feel like Alice's Restaurant should be playing in the background while I'm telling this story) and review it. In black and white, I read that I apparently have been arrested for assault and I believe, terroristic threatening. I'm looking at the dates & the age that they're claiming I was at the time. It doesn't make sense. In the meantime, I'm in contact with the Human Resources woman at my mom's work & am trying to explain that there is a mistake. However, she is no longer taking my calls & it is clear that I'm not going to get the job.

My next course of action was that I contacted a Detective with our State Police. I explain the situation. Every time I explain that there is another Tabitha A. R_______ and her mother is Donna M. R________ and that yes, that is my name and yes, that is my mother's name - there is, however, another set of them in this state. But that they're not us. The detective, in his snide way, says, "Well, that is an awfully big coincidence. Don't you think?" You know what, screw you dude. Not everyone you come in contact with lies. Most of them do. But I'm not.

I then have to contact the Attorney General's office. They advise me to go into Family Court and review the records (the other Tabitha was a minor when she was charged). Bryan & I roll into family court, take a look at this girl's file. I'm sure you could guess by now, that her file was pretty thick. I'm looking at all of the info. There's my name. There's my mom's name. But I've never lived at these addresses. I've never been involved in criminal activity. For the 40th time - this is not me!!!!

Through painstaking perseverance and traveling through the levels of bureaucracy, we finally got the charges moved off of my record and put them lovingly where they belonged. Apparently there was a mix-up where they somehow transposed the numbers of her state i.d. number with mine & that's how this had happened.

As I've indicated, I didn't get the job. Even after I sent Human Resources the paperwork indicating that there was a gross mix-up. I always felt that there was something wrong with that, as the HR woman (up until my background check came back) seemed eager to have me employed there.

So, that's a day-in-the-life of me. Formerly known as Tabitha A. R______. This is my version of a happy ending. Because once you really get to know me, you will find that this sort of crazy shit seems to happen to me all of the time.

Silver Lining

**I want to apologize in advance for the scary picture of me. It's just the only picture I had of me with my Holly Hobbie doll**

There weren't many playthings that I was attached to when I was growing up. Frankly, I didn't play with toys. From the time I was one year old, I pretended to go to school. I'd carry books around & wave good-bye & say 'school'. I colored, sketched, cut paper, pretended to be a receptionist, a teacher, played house, and read. I wasn't in to Barbie. At all. She wasn't my scene. However, I did have a rag doll that I was particularly found of. It was a Holly Hobbie doll that I received for my 3rd birthday. The only 'frill' that doll had was, if you pulled the bow on her hat, her eyes would close. And if you pulled the bow in the other direction, they opened. I ADORED that Holly Hobbie doll.
After the divorce, we moved. A lot. And that doll, with all of the rest of my belongings, always seemed to get lost in the shuffle. With each move, more things were gone. Until the point where there was nothing left of my childhood. And I distinctly remember upon turning the ripe-old age of 8, that I told myself it was time to give up all of 'that kiddy' stuff. I guess so that when more things ended up missing, I could deal. The only artifacts of the so-called childhood I had were things that I managed to keep myself. Things like, a piece of driftwood that my dad found on a beach and drew a rainbow and pot of gold on for me. (Which today hangs above the doorway in my kitchen and has faded over the years to where you can barely make out the picture), the small, tan stone that he found & gave to me that just happened to be in the shape of a heart, an arrowhead that I found on the farm when Dad & I were walking the fields, small little trinket boxes that he gave me, etc. These are things that I hold on to as if they were the finest of fine artifacts. And well, they are.


It has occured to me, when looking around my home that, because there's nothing from the Golden Age of Tabitha's youth, that I hold onto everything that my kids have touched. I have every craft that Connor has done since he started preschool..two years ago. I keep almost every pair of shoes, baby blankets, their little baby towels, locks of hair, their hospital bracelets. You name it, I've saved it (I do draw the line at saving the umbilical cord...I can't handle that).
I feel that I've gone to the extreme, though. There are just some things I need to let go of. If I keep everything that pertains to my children, I'll need a house the size of.....well, Delaware (haha).
I wish that I didn't have this crazy need to over-compensate with my children, for all of the things I lacked. Case in point....remember that Holly Hobbie doll I mentioned? I just had to get that for Gracie. Yup. I'm sick. I found the exact same doll on ebay & bought it. And honestly, she could care two squats about it. Truth-be-told, I used her as a 'beard'. I say I bought it for her, but really bought it to reconcile something inside of me.


I guess it comes down to now that I have children of my own, I see how important it is to reconcile all of this crap. I need to let it go. There aren't many out there who know, the full extent of what has happened so many years ago. And many would say, it's old news, ancient history. It's long gone and done. Why are you still hanging on?? To which I'd have to say that it needs to be purged. The only way I can move forward in a healthy, productive way - for my children, for my husband, and for myself is to give it it's fair due. Finally. After all of these years. I ran from it all for so long. And today, I finally feel strong enough to take it on. And that only came about from being a mother.

Maybe I'll get strong enough to pitch some of the things I don't 'need' to hang on to. Maybe I won't. But tonight I think I can go to sleep for the first time, in two decades, knowing that I finally have found the strength within myself that I've been searching for. And I have found it by looking into my children's eyes.

Gravel In Ya Guts and That Spit In Ya Eye

Whenever I do a reflective post regarding my childhood and the wonderful affects my mother had on it, it's never too positive. Scratch that, it's never been positive. I feel bad about that. But that is what she made out of her time with me, shaping me, molding me. So, when I need to rip that old band-aid off, I will. She is my mom, yes. Did she do the best with what she knew? I suppose. But my mom was the Yin and my dad was the Yang. And when I can find something positive and uplifting to recall about my childhood with my mom, I will.
I'm still searching.
Anyway. This is leading somewhere. Last Thursday, I called my mom in the morning to check in. She called me back a few hours later, we spoke and hung up. I began my chores for the day of laundry, stripping beds, and well...you get the idea. I was upstairs, the phone was ringing & there were no phones upstairs with me - they were all downstairs. The answering machine picks up. And this is what I hear in a horribly monotone, horribly suspicious, horribly bland tone of voice: "Je-ss. Where are you? *sigh* I don't know where you go all of the time. All right. Callmeback." This annoyed me terribly. It doesn't sound like much. But you'd have to hear it. It had her 'tone'. The one I've heard my whole damned life. The one that makes insanely ridiculous accusations, the one that is Passive/aggressive, the one that makes my neck hairs stand on end, the one that sends me in a tailspin. After I huffed and puffed, ranted and raved about this message, I had a revelation.

I've lived with accusation after accusation, suspicion and guilt. And I lived this on a daily basis with my mother. So, no wonder I'm always so damned defensive. I constantly had to defend my actions, my thoughts, my desires to better myself. And I had to defend them to my mother. Granted, I'm not defensive all of the time. I am actually a pretty laid back person. However, the minute I feel I am being questioned, demoralized, put into a corner, condescended, scolded or bossed around. BAM!!! Out she comes....Mt. DefensiveBitchTabitha.

Yes, I am an adult. With my own mind. My own personality, my own views, morals and values. But at what point can we shed what has been, essentially, programmed? I know it's there. It's one of the things I like least about myself. But it's like the aftershocks of an earthquake. It's just going to happen. It's part of the process. Nature vs. Nurture, folks.

It's funny how something as trivial and stupid like, a little message on an answering machine, can open a whole can of worms. But that's the funny thing about life and our 'demons'. They're there. We're all walking around "carrying a bunch of ghouls" around with us. (You'd have to watch old episodes of 'The Soprano's' to get that one. Good old, Paulie.) Anyway........

Something has been working it's way out. I've been on a journey the past few months. Where that journey will lead, who knows. And my journey's never seem to make any sense until about 5 years, after the fact. I'm just hoping that I am able to walk away from the defensiveness that has been bred in me. I'm hoping to shed that last bit of that little girl that sits cowering in the corner, awash in shame and guilt, for no good reason. Other than her mother's need to keep her down in "the mud and the blood and the beer". Because that little girl has had a fire burning inside of her for quite sometime. It just has been grossly misdirected.

Thursday Thirteen Ramblings

THIRTEEN RANDOM THOUGHTS. Brought to you by: My scattered, crazy mind.

1) "His capa was detated." From last week's episode of 'The Office'. Michael was taken aback by his old boss passing away & he then finding out he was in an auto accident & was decapitated. That show is too funny & of all the 'wrong' things Michael says, this one just took the cake for me.
2) Without even thinking about it, my brain automatically will make a word/words/phrase out of the jumble of letters from the word verification when leaving a comment. I'm completely bizarre-o.
3) "He flicked me...with, with.....the end of himself." A quote from a "Mad About You" episode that I still find completely amusing. It has somehow come back to me after all of these years. I just love it.
4) I was sitting at the diningroom table with Connor while - making a project - and out of nowhere he exclaims, "BOOYAH!"

Where in the hell did that come from?? Where did he learn that??


5) I climbed into bed the other night. About an hour+ after I wanted to be in bed. Bry rolls over to me and says, "What time is it?" I replied, "Sex-o-clock".



6) There is nothing like a hot cup of coffee with Coconut Creme creamer on a chilly, rainy afternoon.


7) Lucky Charms - since childhood - has been my favorite cereal. However, a few months ago, I realized that the shapes of the oat pieces are the same shapes in 'Meow Mix' cat food. I'm completely freaked out by this.


8) I love thrift shopping. Monday, at the Goodwill, a clerk kindly gave me this hanging Tiffany-style diningroom lighting fixture. (I had been wanting one of these forever, but never wanted to pay the $).
I was stoked. After finding some cool clothes for Gracie, the light fixture was the cherry on top.

9) Has anyone else drawn the parallels between George W. Bush and Lord Farquaad from 'Shrek'?? I have thought this since the first time I saw the movie.

Especially when Lord Farquaad is amping up the Knight's to go on the quest to rescue Princess Fiona. He's addressing the knights in a public arena. He's speaking at his huge podium and says to the knights: "Some of you may die. But it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."
Sorry, but that sounds like good 'ole W. to me.
10) What is the point of cleaning my house?? When TWO MINUTES LATER, it is completely destroyed by two sets of little hands?
I've given up on having a clean house.



11) My heart melted into a goopy, syrup-y mess, when last night, my baby girl sang along with me to Judy Garland's "Somewhere Over the Rainbow".
It was a beautiful little moment. Gracie sings it better than I do.

12) There are two people from my past that I was really mean to.
One was from 6th grade.
The other was from the winter of 2000.
I have made up my mind that, before I die, I must find and contact these two individuals to offer up my sincere, heart-felt apologies.
It's been eating me alive for years that I could have ever been so cruel.



13) Bryan is in a training class to work in the prison's for overtime. He said to me, "I think that I want to do the S.E.R.T. training." I ask, "What is that again?" He replies, "It is the Emergency Response Team in the prisons. You know, basically it's their SWAT team." I told him, "Do It." He says, "Yeah, but the training is five weeks long. I'd have to get into shape......." Me: "Honey, if this is something you want to do, then DO IT. Find a way to make it happen."
Why can't I take my own advice?

Collide

As promised, here is how I launched two different vehicles into two different houses:

Collision I

I was about 4. It was the early 80's. My Aunt & Uncle were living in Slower Lower. That's what we Delawareans call Sussex County. It was, I believe, a Saturday. My Aunt was running errands and babysitting me. We pulled up outside the Post Office. She looks me in the eye, points to the gear shift and says, "Don't touch that." Well, what the hell do you think a 4 year old is gonna do when given a warning like that? She leaves me in the car, unattended, to go into the post office. I hop in the driver's seat (I used to love to pretend to drive). I 'touched the gear shift' and away I went. I coasted across the two lanes of traffic, barreled over a curb, into someone's yard and yup, into the corner of the house. My aunt comes running out of the post office, across the street & has words with the lady whose house has been (minorly) damaged. It was a horrible scene. My aunt was shaken, I was (inside) like "YES!!!!" and she forbid me from ever telling anyone. Now I'm telling everyone. For those of you who don't already know the story.

Karma....it will come to get you.......

Collision II

I was living with Bryan. It was January & I was on my way to work. I went outside to warm up my vehicle. Which was at the time a POS Jeep Cherokee, stick-shift, with a soon-to-be-found-out faulty emergency break. So, I start the jeep, run inside for something which I forgot. I run in our room & say to Bryan (as a joke), "Can you look outside to see if the Jeep is ok. I wouldn't want it to drift down the driveway." He got up, looked outside and said, "Uh, well, it's in the ______'s yard." I said something along the lines of , "Shut the f$%# up, stop joking." He was like, "I'm not." I look outside and there is my vehicle, crashed into the corner of their house. And the whole family looking like, "What the f@#$?" We go out there, they're having a cow, I'm having a cow. The police were called, as well as the fire department being dispatched. A few tickets were handed over to me, along with future court dates which led to restitution and paying back ridiculous amounts of $. The thing is...the real rub and there are a few, are these things:
-the ______'s and Bryan's family do NOT get along. So, of all houses for my rolling vehicle to hit. This one was perfect-o
-the County policeman who arrived on the scene insinuated that I had done this on purpose. Yeah, ok. I don't know them. I only know them as the neighbors that we don't talk to. Sure, fuzzball. I intentionally want to go to court, pay all kinds of $ I don't have just to break a piece of their vinyl siding. That's how I roll. Could you imagine what I would do to someone who I really didn't like?? Gimme a break.

So, there it is. Now for those of you who read my blog and don't know. Now ya do.