Monday, August 30, 2010

Finding Hope...The Journey of a Battered Wife (part 1)

While nestled in the womb of the Appalachians directly at the foot of Hogback Mountain, I found the place where light and darkness are one. Without warning, I slipped into it and it enveloped me in its perplexing blanket. Its shadows invited me inside and then allowed me fall hard into its depths. As a small fifteen year old girl, I didn't have the ability to keep walking though it to the end. And though I physically left Zirconia, North Carolina in July 1989, I remained in the shadows, intoxicated for the next ten years of my life.

The town was named for the zircon mines which sustained the small community decades before I was there. Zircons were used as a source for the incandescent light and Thomas Edison himself visited this previously thriving mining town more than once. This place was a paradise and when I think of what my heaven looks like, I can only visualize it as my view from the Mess Hall front porch overlooking the lake and the hills. My heaven is bedecked with Mountain Laurel, Rhododendron, Crow’s Feet, Sassafras, Devil’s Walking Stick, and hundreds of towering Hickory, Cherry, Hemlock, and Pine Trees. The trees are so close together they seemed more like one rolling green swath of fabric being shaken out by some immortal goddess on top of the mountain. The waves of the fabric swept across my view with every whisper of wind.

The Green River meanders through my Great Reward, babbling over slippery, moss covered rocks and fallen trees rotting into new life. My heaven has fields of daisies and clover, bumble bees, and ant hills. According to Professor Pratt’s Geological History of Western North Carolina, he says it is clear that all the rocks there are amongst the oldest geologic formations on earth. My paradise occupies land that is more ancient than that of the Euphrates, the Nile, or the Jordan River. Flintlock Camps was my Eden.

When I drive along the dirt road to my house, I always remember driving down the bumpy road to camp and the sound of the sparse gravel crunching beneath tires with anticipation of what was in store for me at the end. When it rains in the summer, I roll the windows down and I smell it. I taste it. It tastes like the color green. The melodies of the old camp songs rock my children back and forth until they are there too, in my Eden. To their ears, it is their mother’s voice, but in my head it is a three part harmony with fifty other girls. The loblolly pines and the kneesocked girls in pigtails are always just a spitting distance away from my real life even though I haven’t stood on that sacred ground in over twenty years.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Teenagers in the Summer

I keep thinking the summer is wrapping up, coming to an end but then I realize we still have a full month to go before school starts. Excuse me while I go stick my head in the toilet and flush it. I am so sick of summer it is not even funny.

For one thing, there are just too many people in this house all day. And I believe teenagers count for at least two people at each. And when they have the letters, ya know the ones that start with P and end in S and have an M in the middle...well, I think they count for four people each if you take in account all the mood swings and personality shifts.

I swear, I know I have great children and I love them and I am proud of them but sometimes I wonder what the heck I was thinking to have five of them. And it's not because of the little ones. I just think every mother should experience parenting a child going through a complete round of puberty BEFORE she decides how many children she would like to have. I am now asking myself if I can go though puberty three more times. I am thinking not.

I really thought I would be a cool mother to a teenage daughter. I really did. I thought this because I was so cool. But it really doesn't matter how cool you were or are because your children will think you are a total dweeb-o idiot from the time they are 13 until they have children of their own. Then they will feel very sorry for how ungrateful they were.

Adrian says we should write a hard core rap song called, "Shut Up and Give Me Your Money" 'cause that is what it feels like sometimes.

And you will actually say crap you vowed never to say like: "Do you think money grows on trees?" I am serious, the first time I said that, I vomited.

But then you end up feeling sorry for them. They do something retarded and you are forced to ground them which I swear is much more of a punishment for the parents than for the little smart- ass, disrespectful brat. Honestly, every chance we have to send you off with friends for the day or evening, we take it. When you leave, Daddy and I usually high five each other and sneak into the closet to make out knowing you are not going to be raining on our parade of happiness and harmony.

But grounding you means we are stuck listening to you mope around about how horrible your life is and how much we suck at parenting and how we don't understand you and how we must not love you and how you really don't love us anymore and how unfair we are and so and so's parents let their daughter do bla bla bla.

And then we say, "Well, if so and so jumped off a bridge, would you?" And then we vomit again.

Then there are other moments which are much worse. Having two teenagers, sometimes we get tag teamed. Two against two in this scenario is almost deadly because the manipulating power of fourteen and sixteen year old girls is like way out of our league.

It really is a shame you have to grow up and become people, making a pit stop along the way as a devil's spawn. But I digress...

When teenagers stay busy, things go much more smoothly and I can say we really get along quite well. But these dog days of summer are really doing a number on me. We are home way too much staying inside because I mean, really, how can we function in 104 degrees? Little children are easy to entertain because you can play games, build forts, go swimming, fishing, hiking, make treasure hunts, play dolls, games, puzzles, let them outside in their underwear and tell them to turn on the hose, whatever, but to attempt to entertain your teenagers....HA! Forget it! They will laugh at you and start singing that hard core rap song, "Shut Up and Give Me Your Money!" Don't even try. Just leave them at home. 'Cause if you take them in the car all hell will break loose. Apparently, adolescents are very sensitive to extreme heat combined with small children who are learning to whistle and like to practice all the way to the swimming pool.

Also, in the car, there is the issue of the car stereo. Who gets to listen to what and when? Well, it's my car so you'd think I'd get to pick but sometimes I make sure my choice is what the person capable of killing me would choose. I don't want to get shanked on my way to grandmama's house just because I tried to let the 9 year old little brother listen to his favorite Mexican station so he could belt out La Coca Rocha for thirty miles.

I must say, though, when all is said and done and the day is finally over, I do tip toe to their rooms to check on them just like I always have. They look the same as they did when they were babies. So sweet and peaceful. And I take a deep breath and say, "Wow." 'Cause if you are raising teenagers, that's about all you can really say.

I cannot wait until school begins. Then, everyone will be back to their busy little selves. Even though I will have to pretty much live in my car and have no time to write or put on a bra, there will be such peace. Hallelujah!