tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19139082482774959642024-11-05T19:51:56.695-07:00Motherhood can be a trip . . . are we there yet?Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger188125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-1769754295979248292021-04-05T12:21:00.004-07:002021-04-05T12:22:54.386-07:00

That's right. My formerly troubled daughter lost her 58-year-old father right after Valentine's Day this year. He died from a heart attack as he arrived home from the gym. It's enormously heartbreaking. I'm even sad even though I haven't seen him or talked to him for so many years. My daughters' already complicated and confusing lives are now much  more complicated and confusing. And

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-8204082242275192302020-10-09T16:46:00.001-07:002020-10-09T16:50:43.517-07:00

 More of my fabulous tweets from 2019:Jan 18, 2019Looking back at my first thoughts on having an empty nest--7 years ago. https://bit.ly/2T2Z26uJan 18, 2019I remember thinking, "I would NEVER [fill in the blank]," and then I had kids. I thought I was perfect, but my daughter, the subject of my Booboos to Tattoos blog, reminded me that you can't predict anything. https://bit.ly/2DlBpRnJan 18

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-36214128752602143562020-10-09T16:16:00.003-07:002020-10-09T16:46:41.784-07:00

I forgot! I'm on Twitter. Or I was. Man, I'm terrible with social media. Anyway, here's my Twitter blurb, which primarily redirected people to this blog: Parenting is hard! Duh. But I never thought I'd face such serious issues. Please read the blog I've been keeping since ‘09 about my youngest, born in '93.I took up Twitter because blogging, I'm told, is outdated. I tried it, skipped eight

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-37603994766562672072019-02-13T12:33:00.000-07:002019-02-13T20:10:34.884-07:00

My troubled daughter (I still habitually label her this way) is back in town and I’ve been ruminating over this new situation. She arrived two days ago after driving 1,500 miles straight through with her location services on but turned them off as soon as she got to her boyfriend’s house. I received one text to tell me she was soooo tired, and haven’t heard anything since. Hello? I’m here.

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-25113200949816139542019-02-06T14:56:00.005-07:002021-04-05T12:30:08.519-07:00

Today is Wednesday and if it weren’t for being busy at work with so many nice people, I’d probably be crying in the corner somewhere. It’s hard to concentrate or give a shit about my work, but I’m 55 and have learned to fake it like a pro. I’m a great phony smiler and laugher, and I’m experienced at passing people in the hall with a hearty, “Hey, how ya doin’?” But inside, I’m destroyed. I’m

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-92122578388471025842019-02-04T09:31:00.000-07:002019-02-04T09:31:35.273-07:00

She will just not let me rest in peace. Today is Monday, and I’m back at work after a very roller-coastery weekend. My husband and I had a lot of good times—went to a play, hiked a bunch, and even socialized with friends. However, my daughter started with some rather startling texts on Saturday morning, and I was sick with migraines for the rest of the weekend. I had to medicate to deal with

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-66520982170552248762019-01-30T15:39:00.003-07:002019-01-30T15:41:08.680-07:00

Because my relationship with my daughter is pretty much nonexistent, I truly don’t know if she is fighting an addiction. She’s done a lot of drugs in her life, but she’s never been diagnosed with an addiction or been to rehab. As far as I know, she chooses this lifestyle; it doesn’t choose her. There are no addicts (that I know of) in my family, and I barely know anything about her father’s

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-20751916249523683132019-01-30T15:05:00.002-07:002019-01-30T15:05:44.822-07:00

I really want to start writing uplifting posts about my daughter, but the opportunity just hasn't arisen. I talked to my daughter today, but my heart is even more barren than before. I’ve been calling my daughter at the weekly time, with the assumption that she probably won’t answer, but this week was a bit different. On Monday, I texted to tell her I couldn’t call at the regular time on

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-70232431314364577992019-01-26T15:25:00.000-07:002019-01-30T14:52:59.799-07:00

My daughter has ignored me for going on three straight weeks, ignoring our weekly check-in call, and even failing to respond to a text conversation (three weeks ago) that SHE initiated. Out of the blue, she sent me a text yesterday to joke that she was in a store, where there was a crying kid and why did I pass down that misfortune to her? The joke’s always been if I enter a store, there will

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-36947712066103003442019-01-26T14:58:00.004-07:002020-10-07T14:06:16.621-07:00

Here are some more beautiful memories . . . The time I sent her on a two-week volunteer trek with a Jewish group. They drove to other states to do mitzvahs in order to learn and grow. The leader called me to tell me she was very depressed and acting weird, but they wanted her to stick it out. It was during this absence that I found all the rave materials in her room. When she got back from

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-76469902505009063512019-01-24T10:45:00.002-07:002019-01-24T10:46:36.601-07:00

I finally revealed to my husband some of the details I've never discussed with him regarding the experiences I've had with my troubled daughter. He thought she was just difficult all these years, but his toes curled when I gave him word vomit yesterday. My memories just started flooding, in no particular order. In fact, there are so many events, I can't even weave them into a chronology or

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-50277580709375663532019-01-23T10:48:00.003-07:002019-01-24T10:36:10.497-07:00

My troubled daughter blew me off again yesterday at our appointed phone meeting time. I prepared myself for her doing it yet again, and I was right, but I didn’t think it would affect me so deeply. I left a voicemail asking for a call back, even though she didn’t really deserve one, but something nagged at me from deep inside that told me she’ll listen to my voice and be moved. For a second,

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-80383747219494052612019-01-18T15:19:00.000-07:002019-01-18T15:19:16.447-07:00

I've been keeping this blog for a long time--more than eight years now. In reading some of my posts, I realize I've had so much hope over the years that we'd be in a good place by now. She was about 17 when I started writing about her, and she's 25 now.  The tiniest morsel of good behavior or a positive conversation changed the whole direction of my thinking. I noticed that I often end a

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-24013089174228699232019-01-16T15:09:00.000-07:002019-01-18T11:54:08.789-07:00

I'm feeling rather numb this time, but I think it's part of healing from the estrangement and abandonment I'm feeling after this last incident with my daughter. As usual, I hit the internet looking for support from people who know this feeling. In doing so, I found this great essay by Christine Field on the Sixty and Me website. I've provided the full article and link for you. Written by

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-64141098501664600732019-01-16T14:47:00.000-07:002019-01-18T11:25:36.812-07:00

I call her my daughter, but I don’t know who I am to her anymore. As I mentioned in one of yesterday’s posts, my daughter and I made an agreement to have a phone call every Tuesday at 2 p.m. to catch up, check-in, and generally connect. For the first four weeks, it worked. I dialed the phone, she picked up, we chatted, and then we repeated that the following week. Yesterday was week five,

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-51396584205187464372019-01-15T14:36:00.001-07:002019-01-18T11:10:05.125-07:00

As requested during our face-to-face meeting, she turned on location services so I could track her during her very long drive back. She had a few mishaps (locked the keys in the car, for one), but sent me lots of texts to verify her safety and made it home in one piece. She promptly turned off the locations services the next day. Darn, I really like knowing where she is. Our next Tuesday

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-59555533200153495082019-01-15T14:30:00.001-07:002019-01-18T11:07:31.752-07:00

I talk to big sister several times a week. She calls just to say hello or tell me how busy and exhausted she is. Being a mom, I love it, even if it’s boring. I don’t like to talk about her little sister with her too much because I like to focus on her. However, little sister came up in conversation, and something made me say, “Your sister is here in town, isn’t she.” Big sister has never been

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-5213171201994772692019-01-15T14:25:00.000-07:002019-01-18T11:05:53.528-07:00

My formerly troubled teen daughter (and now clearly confused adult) has put me through some emotional ups and downs in the past few months. She has the ability to make some breakthroughs in her thought process and come up with some spot-on life plans, then something emotional happens and it’s like it never happened. Since September 2018, she has turned 25 (a milestone), secured a

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-12274066695652624942018-09-18T15:50:00.001-07:002018-09-18T15:50:45.322-07:00

So one day I got a text message from my daughter that she would “answer all my questions,” but used some cryptic wording that got under my skin. I have a lot of questions for and about her on a regular basis, but in the interest in keeping a relationship, however thin, I hold back. Because one of the words she used was “rough,” I got nervous and couldn’t take it, so I called her. And she

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-30323334950818618452018-08-30T12:08:00.000-07:002018-08-30T12:10:22.729-07:00

There's always something in my life that feels like a setback. My husband's father has cancer, his son is getting a divorce and is miserable, his business isn't doing well, I've had migraine attacks like I'm on the front lines in the Civil War, my older daughter has to move out of the apartment she and her boyfriend live in within 30 days (no choice; it's being sold) . . . the list goes on and

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-32356286468668476842018-06-26T13:30:00.000-07:002018-08-30T11:47:26.764-07:00

I made like a detective and figured out exactly where my daughter works! A couple of months ago, she loved her outfit, so she sent me a picture of herself in the restroom at her place of business. She was wearing her work T-shirt and badge as well. The T-shirt was in reverse because it was a selfie, but I could see the first and last letters; her badge was blurry, but I could make out the “

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-86528595478189472902018-06-26T13:28:00.001-07:002018-08-30T11:49:17.479-07:00

I guess my daughter is in the right place. She doesn’t live in her hometown anymore; in fact, she’s a good 1,300 miles away in a very different type of city. She was ungracious to her sister during their visit (from the big sister’s perspective), but she seems to be thriving pretty well without us! That’s ok, I didn’t see her much when she lived here and we all get on each other’s nerves

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-87811170557271376732018-05-23T14:33:00.005-07:002018-05-23T15:12:23.593-07:00

I have to use fake names here so it doesn’t sound like I’m telling a story to 2nd graders. Big sister Mary recently visited little sister Alice for a few days in her new city. I was aware it was happening, naturally from Mary. I was so nervous because I don’t want Mary to be hurt or disappointed, which has happened over and over again when she’s tried to reach out and have a “normal” sister

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-79143885465384041052018-05-23T14:32:00.003-07:002018-05-23T15:08:30.882-07:00

My daughter has been in her new city for about seven months now, and she’s finally thriving. Not doing well financially—I admittedly help her pay her rent—but she has a job, a couple of friends, and doesn’t complain at all. Before I go on, I need to defend myself for helping her with rent. If I don’t, she might: End up homeless Live in her car Give up on life Move home Choice d is the

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1913908248277495964.post-77114821696511813952018-01-29T14:35:00.000-07:002018-01-29T14:46:00.125-07:00

The worst part, and this is so terrible, is that she even lied about who she stayed with when she came home. Her sister ratted on her, so this is how I know, but I have to pretend not to know, which is emotionally painful and makes me physically ill. She cheated on her inappropriate boyfriend with her old boyfriend, whom I used to like, but now has learned to treat her like shit because she

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0