Mothers and Daughters

So a couple of my followers (I chuckle, but that also sounds really creepy) have been bugging me to write. "Write about anything." they say, but as cliche as it sounds, I'm an artist and blah, blah, blah. And on top of all that today was a pretty bad day, so you all (or you 2) get re-used writing but I know you haven't read it. And since we all live in Eugene I am going to re-use. Cause you asked for it.

A few years ago I was blessed with having the experience of taking a writing class with Shelby. We had two instructors, Bill and Margaret, and they were fabulous. What a class. I learned a lot about how Shelby felt about things. It was amazing! I think Maddie and I took at least three classes together after that. What wonderful memories. Anyhow, here is a paper I wrote for that class with Shelby in May of 2004.

A Conversation in the Trooper

Since Shelby has moved out of the house I seem to find great joy in simple outings with her. I cherish our times together and will find all kinds of reasons to get her to come over. I try to be sly about it and if she sees through me she never lets it be known.

Being the “to the bone” mom that I am, one of my favorite things to do is to take Shelby grocery shopping. Not only does this sooth my worrying mother soul it’s also a great bonding time for us. I am forever trying to buy her everything she might need and she is forever scolding my spending habits. Clearly, she did not get her frugality from me.

On our way home from Costco a song began to play on the stereo that took me back to a terrible thing that happened to me. Something I still held great shame over. We began talking about abuse, domestic and sexual, date rape. We discussed women being vulnerable and making bad choices. I admitted I was one of those women. Shelby told me she knew many girls her age that were like this. We talked about the roll that alcohol played. We talked of our lack of understanding as to how people could treat other people so bad.

It was emotional in so many ways, shame, pain, anger, loneliness, love and forgiveness. Tears were shed. And then there was this overwhelming feeling of pride. What an amazing woman my daughter is becoming. She is so real and compassionate. Shelby has helped me to a different level of understanding about certain things that have happened. Since she started college she seems to have a new excitedness about learning. I find it contagious and it makes me feel happy. We pull into the driveway and Shelby turns to me and says, “I miss you really easy. I can’t go a week without seeing you. I’ve decided I need to see you every few days.” Our outing ended with a hug and the fact that I will forever cherish that trip to Costco on that beautiful October evening in 2002.

Terrified Anguish

It was the summer of 1976. I was about a month away from turning sixteen. The day had been beautiful. I spent most of it on Lanning’s Rocks up behind our house, trying desperately to understand the happenings I had become aware of. A few cumulus clouds sat above the hills. As the sun began to glide below the horizon the clouds began to color. Shades of blue and pink painted the sky. Like a dry sponge the clouds soaked up the colors. I began to make my descent toward home. Walking, I inhaled the beauty of dusk. I was trying to ingest the power of nature. I felt the air warm against my skin. Holding me. Protecting me. Comforting me.

Mom was in the kitchen as I entered through the back door. The open window brought the gift of the honeysuckle’s sweet smell. “Where have you been?” she snapped.

“Up on the rocks.” was my answer. I so hoped that would be the end.

“What’s the matter with you?” she stabbed.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit!” Oh God, here it comes. I knew it wouldn’t stop now. “I suppose you don’t think I deserve to be happy. That it’s wrong of me to want to be with a man who thinks I’m special. Is that right? Is that what you think?” her voice growing louder, frantic.

“No Mom, that’s not what I think.” I pleaded

“Then what is it?” she spat. She stepped closer.

I looked her in the eye and wondered if I should say it. “I don’t like him.” was out before I could stop it. Before I realized what was happening she slapped me across the face. I ran out the door crying.

It was completely dark now. I walked around the garage. Disoriented by confusion my head was spinning. What did I do wrong? Why did she hit me? She asked me what was wrong. I told her. What does she want? What was I supposed to say? He was my sister’s boyfriend. I didn’t like him any more. What about Dee? What about Dee? Why was my mom sleeping with him? Did mom forget about Dee, her daughter? Did she think Dee wouldn’t care? My lip feels fat. My nose is bleeding. I better not get it on my shirt. I feel dizzy. I sit down on the step. I let it drip. Maybe it won’t stop. Did I wish that?

The door opens. Fear grabs me tight. I catch my breath. Her voice has changed. She has calmed. “Honey, I’m so sorry. You need to understand how hard it is for me. Your dad is a drunk. Every time he touches me he’s drunk. It’s so different with Tom. He makes me feel special. You have to understand,” she pleads.

Do my friend’s mothers tell them these things? I don’t want to hear this. It’s gross. It’s wrong. She’s my mother, still married to my father, sleeping with a kid who is my sister’s boyfriend. Sick. “It’s okay mom. I understand. You deserve to be happy more than anyone else I know.” I need to stop my nosebleed. If she sees it she’ll feel bad. How can I clean it off before we go in? Maybe she won’t see it. “I love you Mom.”

“I love you too honey. Let’s go in and watch some TV.”

I let her go first so she can’t see but she turns around. “Oh my God! Did I do that? Oh honey, I’m so sorry.” She begins to cry. She sobs, “What have I done? My God what have I done?”

“Mom, it’s okay. You know I get bloody noses all the time. You barely even touched me. Now stop crying. Come on, lay down on the couch.” I lead her to her favorite spot when the day is done. I lay her down. Get her a pillow. Offer her a blanket. “Can I get you some water?”

“Yes please. That would be nice.” She says.

I bring her water. “Do you need anything else?” She looks at me. Her head motions no. I can see shame in her eyes. I look away. I don’t want her to see what’s in my eyes. “I think I’ll go to bed then. I love you mom.” I say as I hug her goodnight.

“I love you too honey.” Her voice is tired.

I crawl into my bed. I am safe here on my mattress in the closet. I pull my blanket up close to my nose. The smell is comforting. I feel the tears begin to sting my eyes. I don’t know why I’m crying. Warm tears slide down the sides of my head. At first it’s quiet, soft crying. And then I break. I can’t control the spasms of my body. No thought is in my head, just pure sadness. It hurts. I let it come. Eyes closed, I let it come.

“What’s the matter with you?”

Sudden, terrifying fear shocks me to silence. I say nothing.

“I said, what’s the matter with you?” Her angry words paralyze me. She comes closer. “Answer me, what’s the matter with you?” She starts to hit me. She sits on my bed because it’s low. Her hands have turned to fists. Over and over she hits me. Pounding and screaming, “What’s the matter with you? You’re crazy. You need to see a psychiatrist. What’s the matter with you? You’re crazy. You need to see a psychiatrist.” She keeps hitting and screaming. She has gone crazy.

I say nothing. I lay there with my arms in front of my face. My confused dizziness returns. I don’t know when it ends. I don’t remember after that. I wake up the next morning. It’s over. The night is never talked about. Did it really happen or am I crazy? Do I need a psychiatrist?

A Trip to the Shot Doctor

Many years ago I used to get immuno-therapy shots (allergy shots). I would have to go three times a week and I did this for about three years. It was routine. In the early summer months of 1989 our routine had changed a little. Now, instead of just the girls and I, we had Trevor, born just two months earlier. Normally when we would arrive, the waiting room would be packed but on this particular day it was completely empty. It was quiet. It was nice.

Shelby, being the more mature big sister at the ripe old age of five, began to look through the selection of kid magazines and soon found one interesting. She brought it over and sat beside me and began to read. And then there was Maddie, my outspoken three year old. Who was very much into creative dress. Maddie was flitting around the room like an impatient bug that can’t seem to find the right spot to land.

I was called to get my shot right away and then handed a timer. The way it worked was you got your shot and then had to wait ten minutes to make sure there were no reactions. I sat down and got ready to nurse Trevor. Maddie was by my side in an instant. “Are you gonna let him suck your boob, Mom, huh Mom are you?”

“Yes Maddie, it’s time for Trevor to eat.” I answered. Maddie held Trevor’s hand, kissed it and rubbed it on her cheek, dropped it and picked up his little foot, twisted it back and fourth, moved it up and down, made his leg bend and straighten three or four times, she dropped his foot and began to pet his head, gently at first but firmer with each stroke. As I watched her continuous motion, I thought to myself…if only I had a portion of her energy.

From the corner of my eye I saw a figure entering the waiting room. I glanced in that direction, made eye contact with the woman, and smiled. Maddie turned to see what I had seen. By now the woman had made it to the chairs. As I watched her try to sit I thought they should have chairs with no arms. She was not a small lady.

Maddie made a beeline dash for this woman’s side. What was this child of mine up to now. Mind you, Maddie had never seen this lady before but she walked right up to her and leaned her little toe-headed self on the chair next to this woman and asked, “Why you so fat huh? Why you so fat?” Oh, my, God. I hoped that maybe this lady wouldn’t know she was mine. But the waiting room was empty. I pretended she wasn’t mine. I was just nursing my son sitting next to my quietly reading daughter. Again I heard Maddie, “Why you so fat huh?” My face felt so hot. Such a grand degree of embarrassment I was in. I was a dead giveaway that she was my child.

This sweet woman looked at me and with a kind and understanding voice said, “You know, it doesn’t bother me when children say things about my weight. Really, it doesn’t. Kids are kids.”

And what, from my dumb-ass mouth should appear, “I know, kids are so honest.” Immediately I felt the glowing warmth of an embarrassed face begin to rise. How could I be so stupid? At this point I was telling myself, just keep your mouth shut, don’t say another word, just keep your mouth shut.

Maybe she didn’t notice my unthoughtful comment. She kept talking to me in the same kind voice. I haven’t a clue as to what she was saying for as I sat there smodding, all I could hear was myself saying, keep your mouth shut, don’t say another word, just keep your mouth shut.

Lesson Plans

There has been a bit of talk lately about "teaching the kids lessons at Babyland" and I'm here to say "Duh!" What the heck do you think we do all day? Poop and pee, eat, cry, push, hit, rake faces, tattle, drool, run around naked?!! Well, okay, we do do all those things, every day. But we also do a lot of other stuff too...

We do all the regular stuff like shapes, colors, right/left, abc's, numbers, matching, zipping, buttoning, velcroing (way easier than tying!), animals, animal sounds (ask Anna or Oliver what a lizard does sometime) puzzles, play-doh, color crayons (and NO I'm not mean because I keep a box of sharp ones for me ONLY!), paint, bubbles. At first we started with things like, first words (mama, daddy, Hi, bye-bye), both signing and speaking these, and feelings (hungry, happy, sad, mad, wet, poopy, tired). We are also learning boundaries and abilities. This is tough and sometimes there are adjustments that need to be made. Like the time someone told Anna to "push" Oliver away when he was bugging her. Now most of you know Anna and Oliver, there is a substantial size difference. And so when Anna decided to push Oliver away...Well, did you ever watch the Muppets? Did you ever see when Miss Piggy would get pissed at Kermit? She'd whop him a good one and he'd fly across the room, slam and slide down the wall. Well Anna pushing Oliver brought that image to my brain more than once! So we adjusted "push" Oliver to "walk away" from Oliver. This works way better. But I'm sure some days all Anna feels like she's done all day is walk away. Oliver is persistent! You could say we pretty much do all these things every day.


Not only are the kids in my care learning all the regular stuff they're also learning stuff I think is important. Stuff like Benchmade, Kershaw, Al Mar, Spider and Gerber are some of the best made pocket knives, the names of all the birds that come to our bird feeder (and the squirrels too), what the sounds we hear but can't see are, that trees are really important and we love them, what all the flowers we see on our walks are and what season it is when they are our favorite (I love a blossoming cherry tree but it's my favorite when it's starting to grow the fruit because all the tiny pink petals fall and you can walk through them with your eyes closed and it feels like snow, but warm!) and which one smells the best, that holding a door open for someone makes them smile the same as a wave or smile or good morning does, that Opaline is The best dog in the world!, that there's not much better than a great cup of coffee in the morning ;), that diamond willow makes a great walking stick because it's such strong wood that if you were walking and you started to fall into a ravine you just catch yourself with a twist of your stick to straddle the crack and climb up out of it, that it's okay to spit as long as you're working (or if you cough up nasty grossness), and that we need to put worms back in the dirt after it rains and they're on the sidewalk and that Mama Sherry loves them no matter what! There is oh so much more I teach these children. Things I don't even realize I've taught them until I hear it come from them; like what the sound of a good drink is, or what an older person sounds like when they try to get up off the floor.

For your information, these kids are getting the absolute best of me. I've done this before, I'm comfortable doing it, I love doing it, I'm good at doing it. You all will find out soon enough the pressures this world puts on kids and, if you're smart, you'll see the pressures you put on your kids. Do they really need them? At 1, Anna could find Waldo faster than anyone at the Tin Woodsman and probably at home too. She is a joy to share a conversation with. She's smart, funny and would do anything to help. Oliver is a kick. He is a funny little man. And he listens so intently at times (sometimes he chooses not to hear). And polite! In the six months I was not working I would sometimes stop by TW to see the kids, once when Oliver was having an extra tough time with his teeth (which meant he was raking every baby face that came within arms reach) I sat him in the little blue chair and explained that some day soon his teeth would all be in and they wouldn't hurt so bad and then he wouldn't have to be so mean. This sweet little man sat and listened very intently, with a concerned look furrowing his brow and when I was finished talking, in a very pained but thankful little voice, he said, "Okay, gank-you Chairwy." ("Okay, thank-you Sherry.")

"What more can I do for you oh mighty parents?" (That's in my booming, magic, smart-ass, genie voice) But honestly, what more could you wish for?

February 22, 2009

February 22 used to be my anniversary. But that ended legally in May of 2002. I remember that day too well. Over and over I listened to Bonnie Raitt "I Can't Make You Love Me" curled up fetal position in the closet crying. It honestly felt as though my heart had been ripped. It hurt. Bad. Way worse than the time I sliced my eyeball. I was so afraid. I was 42. I had three kids. I hadn't worked in close to 20 years. I didn't have an education (on a piece of paper). I had been with the same man since I was 17. Fear is crippling.

I am going to tell this story and then I'm going to let it go. I've been doing a lot of that lately, the letting go, and I like how it's feeling. It started a little over a year ago. I started giving away things. And not just crap but really cool stuff like knives and my Canon T-90 (The Dark Knight of cameras! Soo Cool!!) Well recently I've been letting go of emotions too. Emotions that I've held onto for a very long time. Like sadness and pissed-offedness. It feels like it's easier to walk taller. I know that sounds kinda silly but it's true. At least it's how I'm feeling these days. I woke early this morning, around 5 and wrote a bit about Oliver. I then decided to take myself to breakfast. On the way home I thought to myself how much stronger I was than Brian. How I'd stuck to what we'd started. I didn't run away when things got tough. And I'm still here. Still standing. Still being the parent I was from the beginning. And I felt damn good about that. Good enough to think, his loss, and I'm ready to let it all go and be friends for the kids' sake. Wow! I made it! Although, I knew this day would eventually come. But there will forever be a feeling of loss on this day, if only for a fleeting moment, as it was this year. I have never in my life been so in love with a man as I was, at one time, with Brian.

On February 22, 1985, we were on our way to Bend, Oregon to be married by the justice of the peace at two o'clock in the afternoon. By the time we finally got married we had been living together for six years. We had moved into the house I now live in and we had Shelby. She was eight months old. I knew habits well. We were meeting Mike and Megan. They were to be our witnesses. I had known Mike as long as I had known Brian (that's another blog!). And I knew Mike and Brian together. So on the drive over to Bend I said to Brian, "I know today isn't some huge production but it is supposed to be my special day so could you not get drunk with Mike tonight? Please." He looked at me, and in the most disgusted voice I'd ever heard come from him, said, "I am not into performing." Now, I knew exactly what he meant but I thought 'Who the hells ass did you pull that from?!' That night I slept with Shelby and listened to his drunken, poor, pitiful me, sleeping alone on his wedding night, fuckin bitch, moaning till he passed out. I cried myself to sleep after he shut up. The next day he was like nothing bad ever happened. We went skiing, I blew out my left ACL. But I now had insurance...

Fear is crippling.

Nine years ago, thanks to the most amazing friend I've ever been given, I began to celebrate this day as my Divorce Day. Rosy has never failed to send me love in some fashion on this day. And I remind myself of all I have and all I might not have, if things had not happened exactly the way they did. And from this day on I will also celibrate this day as Moses' birthday!! Happy Birthday little man!

1st picture: February 22, 1985
2nd picture: The last really good family portrait November 1991

Oliver

The first time I met this little man was February 12, 2007. The day he was born. Five days after my little brother left my life. It was a meeting full of emotion.

(There will be times when I go to a place I can feel myself leaving. For more years than I can really remember I've not been myself. Sadness fills all the nooks and crannies. But for the last month things are beginning to feel different. For example...Trev and I were going to the dump, first time in six months due to wrists (eeeww!!) and Trevor stopped what he was doing, stood staring at me and then said, "Are you singing?" I stopped, I thought about it, and yes, I was singing. And it felt okay and good and so I continued to sing as I loaded the back of Flossie & Georgia's truck. Before this time I would have felt bad for feeling so good and would have made myself stop singing. I want those days to be gone but I've also lived long enough to know that they will be around. And I know I will get past them. And all you all should know that too!!! I'm coming back so watch out!)

I was able to stay in the room long enough to get a couple pictures and I had to leave. It would be months before the bond I have with this little man is formed. And formed it did. Formed and cemented. In place for life! There is nothing like one-on-one time with a baby. I had it for two years with Shelby. For two solid years never once leaving me. Shelby was there for me and I was for her. I could tell her anything and she would usually respond with the most heart melting smile mixed with adorable gurgled baby noises. She was the best friend! Well, I got that same kind of one-on-one time with Oliver. Every Friday it was just the two of us. All day. I loved Fridays. There is a completely different energy in Babyland when I only have one child (WOW I just read what I wrote...I have a lot to do with that energy! Maybe I need to pay more attention to my behavior!). The competition is removed from everything when there is only one kid in Babyland and things are much more relaxed. Although, one of my absolute fondest Mama Sherry memories of Oliver is the first time I kissed him to sleep and Anna was laying on the futon with him. Yes! You read right. I could kiss this little boy to sleep. I can still close my eyes and see his tiny, sleepy, adorable self slipping so peacefully into sleep. Trying to fight off the power of my barely kisses. He never won. And I will never, ever forget the morning Matt came in all excited because he'd kissed Oliver to sleep! Matthew Trent, you are the daddy I wanted for my kids!

So, every so often I stop and read what the heck I'm writing and this kind of writing used to drive Bill crazy. Bill is the best writing instructor ever! And I do promise to get better at the organization of thought but I also know that what you're reading is actually the way my brain works or thinks. So maybe you all can better appreciate the fact that I've made it this far in life and are you sure I'm the one you want to watch your children? Just kidding.

Oliver has a very hard time with the pain of teething. And if he's hurting, keep the other children away. He has no patience when he's in pain. On my second day back at work, in the later afternoon after everyone was up from nap, Oliver was hurting. It was clear. So I was doing my best to keep Moses away from him (all Momo wanted to do was stand next to Oliver and pound him with both hands. Mo has big hands). Anna had to pee so we got to the toilet and I set her on it. I turn to see Oliver driving the little Radio Flyer into Mo. Three steps and I've whisked Oliver up and onto the futon. Momo's fine, Anna's done peeing and Oliver is in tears. So I go to wipe Anna, put the Radio Flyer outside and then go talk to Oliver. I sit beside him on the futon and start to explain about how badly he could have hurt Moses, the tears were streaming down his cheeks, I felt bad because I thought I'd startled him too badly. He reached up and with a hand on each of my cheeks said "Sherry come, no Emily, Sherry come." What could I do but scoop him into my arms and tell him just how much I love him and that I would be at Babyland every day. And some days I would bring Opaline.

The picture with this post was taken shortly after I told Oliver just how much I loved him. You can still see his tears :(

February 20, 2009-Friday

Good afternoon all (well, the 3 of you who are following). My third day back and I'm getting things back to the way I like them.

But before I get too far into today's happenings, or all the stories I have to share, or any of the pictures, I must tell of my drive to work this morning...Some would say I tend to drive with a lead foot. I like to think I just know where I need to be and I want to get there but the reality is, my driving is affected by the music I listen to. On my way down 6th I was listening to Jason Mraz-Make It Mine (I LOVE this song right now!) singing my guts out when I saw him. And damn! He saw me. "Would you like to tell me why you're going so fast?" I looked him right in the eye and with a huge smile on my face said, "Honestly, this is my third day back at work after having been off for six months and the song I was listening to puts me in a really good mood and I'm just really happy to be going to work." He stood there looking at me, sorta trance like, and finally said "Have a nice day at work." And walked away. I thought that was pretty sweet.

Sunday morning, 8am.
Well, so soon for such big plans to slow...I got all the boys to sleep by 1pm yesterday and that means I have free time! But oh so quickly I forget how fast that free time passes. When I became a new mother a bazillion years ago, I fell in love with it. Every moment of my life had a purpose, someone needed me all the time, seven days a week, three hundred sixty-five days a year, nights, weekends, twenty-four hours a day, every, single, day. OH Shit! I had no time to myself (I didn't have a village) . This was a tough lesson. My house was spotless before kids, dinners were on the table by 5:30 and there was always time for desert! Not only did this little woman (Shelby) change my life , she changed everyone around her. Being a mother is the hardest job I've ever done (it's even harder than digging fire-line around a forest fire, at least here there is an end) but I wouldn't give up one single moment of the life I chose. I guess the direction I'm headed with this is you all must understand my thinking (I know this sound scary to those of you who know me well) I want to tell all the stories and share all the pictures with all of you but the kids will come first. And this means, when I come home from the end of my first week (3 days) back to work and I have close to 300 pictures to share (this is not a joke! first thing on my wish-list Nancy, is an external hard drive just for the photos I take!!!) and all the happenings and I sit down at my computer and try to gather and organize all this info and then fall asleep. The kids wore me out and in order for me to give them the best me, I will allow the sleep over the need to share with you all. You know it just dawned on me I started writing this morning as if it were Sunday, today is Saturday, maybe I should go back to sleep!?

Just a tease with the pictures. I'm still trying to figure this out and I don't like my layout options, too restrictive! I'll keep trying. These are my babies...Nolan & I, Nolan, Moses, Anna and last Me & Oliver. Aren't they amazing!!!

Back to Babyland

Hello. My name is Sherry. Or, as I'll be referred to here as, Mama Sherry. I am a single mother of three amazing young adults, and I am currently employed as the "nanny" at The Tin Woodsman/Crosby Taylor Pewter Company of Eugene, Oregon. I will be 49 this year and I believe I am an average person. Others would STRONGLY disagree (this fact makes me smile really big). I decided to write this blog because I thought it would be easier than writing all those silly papers I'm supposed to write each day for every child I watch, and because I love Matt's blog, and because I like to tell stories, and because I always wanted to be a writer, and because I know that every single day that I go to work at The Tin Woodsman I will have stories to tell, and because I like to take pictures and I want everyone to look at them (so you might see a few), and because this way, I won't have to feel guilty because I didn't get copies of those pictures to all the mommies and daddies. So, here we go.

This is on my own behalf. I represent no one but myself. I don't ever mean to offend, insult, or hurt any one. Every child I watch, I love as if he or she were my own (in the animal kingdom, I am a lioness!) Every parent is a friend and my friends get me through this life. I am here to share the most amazing gift I have ever come across (other than Rosy), and that is children. For most of my years I have surrounded myself with the company of children and I have no regrets. They are some of the most amazing people I have ever had the honor of knowing. And to know that I am trusted enough to be such a major influence (and I am an influence) in so many children's' lives brings me to tears. But honestly, these kids couldn't be better off :) No, seriously, I am good at this. Both the kid thing and the picture thing. And maybe after I get back into it, the writing will catch up to the rest.

A little background...a couple years ago I ran into Deb (owner of TW) at a coffee shop and asked if she needed any help. I got hired as a production worker and after proving to all, became one of the nannies at the Tin Woodsman. I also did all the shipping. On August 20, 2008 (my 48th birthday) I was told I couldn't work. I had to have Carpal Tunnel Release in both wrists. So for the next six months my babies were not in my care. On February 18, 2009, I went back to work. The picture at the beginning of this blog was taken the day before (Maddie...another winner! You have the gift!). If you glance at it quickly, you can clearly see what these kids bring to my life but if you really look at the picture, you can see what I bring to theirs. I do so hope my ADSD (Attention Deficit Sloth Disorder) allows me to share as many stories as I can remember. Please stay tuned.