I wish I could be inspired to write some deep feeling, heart touching post everyday, but for some reason the inspiration only comes sporadically. Hey who am I kidding? It may not be inspiration to anyone, only in my mind. I love to write.....it's cleansing.
At my job we have a beautiful cat named Max. He is a Maine Coon. I've never owned one to my knowledge, although I had a cat named Petey that, now that I'm thinking of it, acted a lot like Max. Max is a an odd duck ( no he's not really a duck. He's a cat) I've been working here since June and Max still hasn't completely warmed up to me. I don't take kindly to animals or kids that don't like me. They are awesome judges of character. He is very standoffish, almost rude. I would be even more offended except that as I've watched this situation and he treats his owners the very same way, almost with disdain. We have a morning ritual around here and I swear to you that it goes the same way every morning. Get Max up ( he lives in the most beautiful home you've ever seen and he sleeps upstairs) put fresh food and water down ( he gets dry and WET food) He may or may not nibble at the food (this morning he did not) then he proceeds to sit at the door begging to go out. Depending on if you respond immediately or not, his cries grow louder and more demanding. So we go to the door, open it and Max just sits there. We coax and encourage and yet he sits there. Peering at you, peering outside. We've discussed this on many occasions. It's almost as though, dispite his living conditions, where he is treated like royalty, he thinks you are trying to trick him, have a massive trap set for him, you've got a cruel joke planned for him. And when he does finally make the move to go out, he takes a huge leap over the threshold. I guess to miss whatever sticky trap you laid out for him. The other day Max had been outside for a few hours when I heard a faint meow. I looked over at the back door and there was Max. Sitting, waiting not so patiently for me to let him him.
I grabbed my phone and snapped a pictured of him and almost on cue he stood on his back legs and starts scratching at the glass....."Let me in"
So I open the door and Max just sits there. And so begins the ritual. He sits, I beg him to come in. He sits and I hide behind the door pleading for him to come in. I make a sudden move and he jolts backwards. Finally I am able to ease out the door, go around the backside of the table and come up behind him and he lazily jumps over the threshold. Whew.....what a workout. And the crazy thing is I'm only trying to do for him what he asked. It's not a sinister plot or plan. I just want to let you in out of the heat and in for some food and water. Geeze!
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As I laid in bed the other night I began to ponder Max, the odd duck cat. In his own way, he loves us. It's not the kind of love I understand. My kinda love is huggin and touchin and pettin and things like that. I've always been leery of the "quiet" ones. I don't know what to do with them because I way overpower them with my loudness. Max acts as though we need him and not the other way around...perhaps this is true to a point.
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My 3 beautiful daughters-Rachel, Kandace and Danica at Kandace's 21st bday party
In my original post I talked about my troubled daughter Rachel and promised to share more. Today is that day. From the moment of conception I knew this kid was different. An odd duck if you will. She was/is the most headstrong and stubborn of all my kids. She could/can throw a tantrum like nobodies business. She was also very keen, bright and wise way back in the day. The days when I was burying my head in the sand. In denial about the predator around the corner. She never wanted to go there. She preferred her other grandparents and her great grandparents. She sensed something way back. She was a tomboy with quick wit and the most beautiful golden, long hair you've ever seen. Dark olive skin with a little beauty mark on her face that she hates to this day. She grew into an amazing kid that gave me few troubles....well nothing out of the realm of normal kid stuff. Until she was about 17. She woke one morning to say her tongue was all chewed up. Come to find out, the night before she had been with friends and went off into a stare.....no doubt she had had a seizure. Went to ER and long story short they found drugs in her system. Dismissed the seizure as being brought on by drugs and sent us home without recommending a neuro. I knew this wasn't right, but I wanted to accept that my kid was ok. No seizure, no epilepsy( it runs in hubby's fam) I mean we can fix drugs. We can't fix epilepsy, right? 6 weeks to the day I'm upstairs in bed and I hear my hubby scream ( he's no good under pressure) I run down the stairs to find my kid laid in the floor in a grand mal seizure. 911....they come out, look her over. Do you really wanna take her to the hospital??? Uh yesssss!!!!! We set her up for a neuro because this time there are no drugs in her system :0( OMG......something is really wrong with my kid! We eventually discover she has partial complex epilepsy. There it is....my child is sick. And this is where, in my memory, that Rachel starts to change. She drifts deeper into drugs. Deeper then I care to even imagine. She is still carefree, quick witted, last minute. Her high school English teacher use to keep her papers and say " this is how you right a paper" her older sisters, Danica and B use to come to her and say hey I need help writing this paper. I remember one paper B wrote with the help of Rachel. About tawanda, her car throughout high school. If I recall B scored an A. Rachel was very smart, but lazy in study habits. She scored those awesome grades on term papers she wrote the night before they were due. Imagine if she had put forth a little effort? She was a hard worker, is to this day. Worked at sonic and saved enough money to buy an old Mustang. She started working with Arabian horses a few years back and she loves it. Not much money, no insurance, no future :0( Not to put out to much of her personal business, but she became involved with someone who hurt her deeply. This seemed to send her over the edge. She has become a child I do not know. She is depressed, angry, bitter, hateful, disrespectful, a bully, demanding....estranged from her family. Up one min and down the next. Wanting therapy to overcome and then saying no she isn't going. She seems to have the worst luck of anyone I know, save a friends son. Their lives are like mirror images. Poor choices have to led them to where they are now. We have bent over backwards to try to help her. When we solve one problem she finds another. There's always an excuse why she can't do this or that to get better, do better, move on...it got me to thinking. Why does it seem when we give our kids advice or try to encourage them in a direction that would be beneficial to them they act like we are trying to trick them or set a trap for them? Like Max, they get into a standoff with us. Wanting to go out or come back in but REFUSING to move! From the moment a woman becomes a mother the natural instinct is to protect the offspring. Sometimes that's not the case, that I never understand. Sometimes it's over the top. I probably fall more into this category because I was left somewhat unprotected and so I tend to over protect. Don't get me wrong, I know I have failed my kids in many areas. But all in all the instinct to protect has always been so powerful. So why is it that my kid thinks I don't love her, care about her, want her to be in pain, want her to stay stuck in the rut that she is in? When in fact there is nothing farther from the truth. I've cried countless tears, lost countless hours of sleep only to still have the same answer.....I don't have the answer :0/ Her father gives into her every demand, whim, call, text, and I on the other hand am totally opposite. I feel like I've been living in a prison, she is the prison guard. I'm a puppet and she is the puppet master. I never saw this as the latter part of my life. Having a troubled child who has wrecked havoc in my home and she doesn't even live with us. Having a husband so consumed with "saving" her that it sometimes causes problems for us. I feel like he is with her more then me, and we can be sitting in the same room. I'm not trashing him. He is a wonderful man who has always taken care of us and loved us unconditionally. Despite a few bumps in the road we have had a great life and I love him with all my heart. I'm just ready for the next faze of life and it seems we are stuck, trapped. Trying to get out and see what's next. I've always said that if you try hard enough you can look around and see those that are worse off then you and I know that's true so I try not to complain. But after 2 solid years, I'm tired. If you've never had kid problems, count yourself lucky. It is without a doubt the most painful thing you can endure because kids are a part of you, they come from your body. I continue to pray and trust God that Rachel will get better....my problem with this is that she has to allow him to help. See he is a perfect gentlemen and would never force his help on you. I apologize for the lengthy post. It's been 2 weeks since I've seen my therapist due to the hurricane and interstate shut downs and such. Sometimes you just gotta pour out your heart....a quote I borrowed from a dear friend:
"The things you take for granted, someone else is praying for".
Take care of you
Karen
