The Chronicles of Chez LaMarr

Moving to Tumblr

2012-01-05T20:57:00.001-08:00

I have blog envy.

My husband's 365 epic blog (my idea btw..) on Tumblr, where he posts usually a stunning photo complete with cute narrative every day, has made my feeble effort to maintain this Chronicles of Chez LaMarr blog look.. well, even more feeble..

That, and my annual gift to my sweet friend Katie, of a blog book(s) each and every birthday, which when I'm in the midst of compiling, think dang.. my kids would love such a memory book like this to fondly look at when I'm old and nutty and they can remember that long ago their mother had ~~beauty, brains and wit~~ spare time to write about their childhood at Chez LaMarr...

A six month sabbatical later (though to be fair, I dabbled with WordPress briefly and good grief..I'm technically savvy but their "customizable" design templates gave me hives ) I've bitten the Tumblr bullet and decided if you can't beat 'em; join 'em...

You can find me here (...OK.. I haven't actually created it yet, I'm needing the husband aka Tumblr support to assist me) but stay tuned....UPDATE (created Jan 5, 2012)

Oh and Happy New Year. Hope 2012 brings you much joy!

......and apparently the End of the World is nigh, if reports are to be believed, but I think that's cruel to suggest my impending 50th birthday later this year might 'cause any apocalypse....

My boys...

2011-06-18T22:52:00.000-07:00

Alex and Schyler~August 2002

Sifting through old photos this evening for the now customary Facebook photo that symbolizes a given event (in this instance Father's Day) I came across the photo above, which I don't even remember seeing before. This stunningly beautiful shot of my eldest child holding my youngest child just moved me to tears.

The digital age has brought with it the amazing ability to take simply hundreds of photos, upload them onto your PC and well... forget about them.

I have absolutely no idea how I missed this one but I'm so very glad I found it. I have felt unspeakably sad the last few days, for a myriad of reasons, notwithstanding missing my darling Dad, but this photo just warmed my heart and the realization that a photograph can capture a beautiful moment and keep it sacred even when the memory has let it go.

Schools Out..

2011-06-17T14:03:00.000-07:00

Oh my.. schools out for summer..

I sat and counted the actual days that the kids will be off this summer break and then thought better of it...Let's just leave it at three (yes 3!) months and call it good. They don't officially go back to school until September 12th and with the exception of swim team/lessons and a one day a week pre-pointe class for the diva, I've planned absolutely NOTHING for the kids this summer. I am envisaging long, sunny (one hopes) days of relaxation and recuperation, though I'm sure the reality will look very different as the weeks go by.

As I mentioned, I said I was going to "embrace the chaos" but we shall see how this pans out (I'm already unraveling over messy bedrooms as I type!) That said, my kids (the two younger ones) are usually way over-scheduled for at least 9 months of the year with one activity or another on their calendar, so the chance for them to sleep in, having nothing on their "to do" list, no homework, no clock watching, will be blissful indeed.

Regardless - I am ready for the summer and I'm also ready to say good bye to June - it has been a challenging month for me in more ways than one. We've had unseasonably cold and wet weather this spring. The month has brought with it difficult anniversaries (one year anniversary of TJ's death on June 14 and my darling Dad's death on June 19; a passing, which unfortunately coincided with Father's Day itself that year) So I'm ready for a better perspective to re-focus my head and time just to catch my breath.

J will spend most of her summer in a swimsuit, racing in swim meets with chlorine coloured hair no doubt, save when it's tied up in a bun for a pre-pointe class but yet she will still have a much needed break from all things ballet and performing. S will swim and do gymnastics, which is his latest passion. A continues a circuitous route to recovery and getting his life back on track. He will be back in school for summer quarter, making up for classes he failed to pass in spring - and facing yet more surgery in this seemingly relentless journey to fix what nature never gave him when he was born.

But enjoy it we shall...I am determined. The months will fly by I'm sure!

That said, I wonder how my kids would have coped with the measly six weeks of summer "holiday" I enjoyed as a kid at my British schools? (Which I might add seemed like an eternity!) And not forgetting, Alice Cooper's annual anthem of "Schools Out" blaring out on the radio stations each and every July as we celebrated the end of the school year? Hmmm!

Take it away Alice....

Anniversaries..

2011-06-03T14:34:00.000-07:00

Finnart's Bay, Loch Ryan, Cairnryan, Scotland

Ah.. Anniversaries..

I drive Darren nuts with remembering each and every significant date in our lives. No seriously, when I first met D - I remembered the date we first talked; the date we first met in person; the date we got engaged; got permission to enter the USA: the day I arrived..etc.. etc.! Poor guy, it's all that he can do to remember all our birthdays and the wedding anniversary but I'm a creature of habit, and meaningful dates seem to set themselves in stone and I never forget.

A year ago today, I said goodbye to A - sending him on a one way ticket to Scotland (and what I thought at the time was a new life sans our family and never to return.) To say A had royally screwed up would been an understatement. No need to re-hash it again, if you can bear it, you can read all about that little saga here. It was such an awful, horrid, no good kind of day when we took A to the airport, that apart from the recalling the day(s) of losing my parents, it goes down as one of the worst of my life.

Last year proved to be a colossally crappy year. I said goodbye to my eldest child in horrible circumstances; fell out with some really dear friends of ours, which compounded an already difficult weekend, and was (and continue to be) estranged from my only brother (A's uncle) All of which sent me falling into a pretty dark place. No matter what folk say, dealing with addiction leaves one feeling horribly isolated and completely alone in the midst of such mess.

A year on, I can look back at that time with a wholly different perspective and even roll my eyes at the so-called "drama" of that weekend, but it really was a devastating time and the only reason I snapped out of spiraling into a deep depression was the loss of A's best friend TJ just a week or so later and the palpable grief we all felt at his passing. We could only say to ourselves: "There but for the grace of God go we.."

A year on, we still battle some demons - our family is still a work in progress and sometimes it feels like the sky will fall in, but I do look back and think how far we've come. We're not out the woods by any means, but my boy is healthy and living among his family, which is something I thank God for each and every day. Yes, A might very well return to Scotland in the future - it continues to hold a special place in his heart and now as a newly minted US citizen means he has the flexibility of living in either country. Hopefully next time he travels to Scotland will be for the right reasons!

While I don't encourage folk to hang onto such negative anniversaries, I think being reflective about a given date or event in one's life and its impact on you (good or bad) is worthwhile and just possibly makes you appreciate just how sweet this life of ours truly is.

Embracing the Chaos

2011-06-01T16:31:00.001-07:00

Schyler's 'creation station'

I caught a show recently on organizing your chaos. It was one of those clean your house - clean your mental clutter type programs, the ones that make a direct link between a disorganized house equating with a disorganized and chaotic life. I've always subscribed to that belief and endeavoured to make my home, if not spotless, relatively clean and tidy. So for the longest time I have often stressed over a messy house as if it mirrored the somewhat mental chaos of our family life.

I had one of those mama meltdowns recently when I walked into my daughter's bedroom and promptly stepped on a sharp object that littered her floor. She's a pack rat, unlike her mother, and it drives me nuts; a collector of trinkets, boxes and anything that takes her fancy - all packed into her bedroom sprinkled across every surface the eye can see. Me? I would happily discard anything and everything that we have no further use for and remain resolutely bemused by the exploding paid storage industry where folk cough up $ to store..... well... stuff! Most of which they don't have room for in their homes. Huh?

Anywhoolze..I digress..

Then last weekend we had dinner with some good friends of ours. I adore Freda (no, it's not her real name, 'cause she would be embarrassed to be singled out this way); she has a wonderfully large, chaotic, warm, friendly house where the first words she utters every time she greets you at the door are: "I'm so sorry about the mess.. just not had time to pick up a thing." The house is full of wonderful kids art; their bedrooms filled to the brim with toys and books and the sense that the kids have played boisterously and with absolute abandon. Their huge garden is filled with stepping stones, large trees and plants growing where they may- all of which makes visiting their home just relaxing and fun.

As we chatted and laughed through dinner, talking about house prices, neighborhoods, etc., Freda waxed lyrically about our clean and ordered home. We have one of those newly built, somewhat sterile and uninspired 'track homes', the kind that once you've been inside one of these new constructions, you've seen them all. These 'zero lot' homes have just enough land around them to stop you encroaching into your neighbors house and zero privacy. Yeah, they are easy to keep clean but despite living in our home for nearly four years, we've yet to make it feel like it's "home". We moved from a 1955 rambler, which we then put some considerable sweat equity into. It had amazing ceilings and a huge front and back yard where the kids grew vegetables and which annually got turned into huge sled run during winter snow storms. I don't miss the house - it was damp and incredibly high maintenance, and yet I know the kids still miss the old house and I could never fathom why.

I got a snapshot why last weekend.

Whenever they are at Freda's they just run free through the house, laughing loudly creating chaos in their wake. They roll down the hills through the dirt, swing on trees and run around her sprawling backyard. Not wild, just free to be.. well, kids.

I was grabbing the laundry this morning and sighed at the mess the kids bedrooms have become again. Letting out a big sigh, I paused to sit down on the bed and really look at the mess. Schyler has made the most amazing lego creations. He is a voracious artist and his art litters the floor. Jewel has created a den inside her closet - a safe haven where she writes in journals and listens to music - sure some of her clothes from the closet got kicked to the big chair to make room, but who could blame her? A little sanctuary - I love it! Alex is a teen so his room doesn't count and I wasn't wearing Hazmat to venture in there! I just grabbed the laundry from the younger kids' rooms and left the mess where it lay.

Jewel's little sanctuary

June signals the arrival of summer for me and I've decided not to schedule every darn minute of the day of their upcoming school vacation with the usual camps. Darren says I'll be screaming by the second week of the school break in frustration, but I'm not so sure. There is something to be said for embracing the chaos and just letting it go. I hope the kids can simply embrace the freedom to enjoy their summer break and just "be". We shall see!

"Embracing the Chaos?" Yeah.. I just need to use that mantra in all aspects of my life.. wish me luck.

Note: In the fairness to the kids, the photos in this post look pretty decent in terms of "mess". I was sworn NOT to take photos of their bedroom or show you what the camera did not capture.. it ain't pretty..

In other news...Happy Birthday Darling Daughter

2011-04-28T13:23:00.000-07:00

Eleven? Crikey... Time flies when you're having fun....

Juliette Taylor LaMarr entered this world in 2000 - a millennium baby, on April 28.

I have loved you from the day I first saw your big eyes on the ultrasound and you waved at us, as if to say.. "look at me!"

From the moment you could dance around the room - you've been dancing ever since.

With a smile that brightened up each and every day

And started to blossom into the beautiful young lady you are today.

Happy Birthday Jewel - we love you~

Royal Wedding Mania

2011-04-28T11:09:00.000-07:00

Prince William and his bride~Catherine Middleton

I was waiting in line for my coffee this morning and I let a sweet elderly lady go ahead of me.

"Are you British?" she asked.

A newly minted American I maybe but those London 'home counties' dulcet tones have never left me, clearly.

"Indeed I am"

And then the monologue commenced, unabated about the Royal Wedding; about William & Kate, about Diana and Charles, Buckingham Palace et al.

"So will you be setting your alarm to get up early and watch the big event?" She smiled.

"Er... no.. not really.. not really that interested if I'm honest...."

I clearly offended the poor woman by the look on her face and she left abruptly.

Listen, it's not that I'm not interested in the Royal Wedding. It's not that I don't get homesick for all that pomp and circumstance, 'cause I do. After thirteen years here in the US, I'd give anything for a pie and a pint in a London pub, but to modify a saying.

"I'm just not that into them.."

I'm so OVER the Royal Wedding media madness; I'm so over digging through my daily news feed to read anything BUT the Royal Wedding. Enough.

Frankly, I have been asked nearly every day my thoughts on the pending royal nuptials and I suppose I come across like a heartless twit when I nonchalantly reply that I don't really have opinion either way. The usual retort is: "Oh so you are anti-monarchy right?!"

Not exactly!

To be candid the whole royal wedding media circus offends my sensibility that we are fighting three wars overseas; that a tornado ripped through more than six states yesterday with catastrophic human loss; that the Japanese are still suffering unspeakable tragedy since the earthquake and ensuing tsunami, while most news outlets are focused on what Kate will be wearing and whether her middle class family (there's that tricky uncle apparently) will embarrass themselves during this "historic" event. As for the rest of the world's news? Barely a footnote.

I have a great deal of affection for William and continue to have an undying affection for his late mother, whose sudden loss devastated her young sons and sent a country (and me) spiraling into grief. I have watched from afar, a young man mature and develop with a social awareness and common touch (thanks to his mother), so lacking within his own royal family. I think Kate (sorry Catherine) Middleton is a stunningly beautiful woman, who has patiently waited for her prince - never stepped out of line, nor was raised with privileges and palaces but with ordinary middle class parents, who amassed their own personal wealth through plain hard work, without the help of a silver spoon.

What a perfect fairytale - what a lovely couple.

And yet, I struggle with the hysteria surrounding the wedding. I struggle because from the day that Diana married her rather clueless, out of touch prince, she became public property and at the mercy of the paparazzi, which ultimately led to her untimely death in Paris. I wish so much for this horror story to not play out again with her son. I wish so much for William to live as private a life with his new bride as he possibly can. William may well be Britain's future King - his bride a future Queen but this wedding (and that engagement ring) is setting the stage for a remake of Diana II in part due to a society so fixated on reality TV, that our primary means of entertainment revolves around watching others play out their lives in public and so it feels that the royal wedding is the ultimate reality show for the masses.

I'm more than perplexed by the America news media, which has seen most of their key anchors set up shop in London for the nuptials. Alex just became an American citizen this past week and I was reminded (via his Civics test), just how much Americans wanted anything BUT to fawn over monarchy and all their shenanigans... Hmm.

I won't belabour the point about the cost to the British taxpayer either. Estimates put the wedding bill at between £32 and £36 million (that's between $53 to $60 million) offset by the amount of money generated by the whole day itself, including merchandising, tv advertising, tourism and so on. While some critics of the royal wedding focus on that, I prefer to focus on the spin that the wedding is a good distraction from all the bad news in the world. That I can understand but just maybe it shouldn't be?

Nevertheless, the DVR is set. My dual citizen kids may or may not choose to watch the big event. I may, in a moment of nostalgia, replay the day and all its joy - a brief respite from a gloomy economy and a world hit by catastrophe, after catastrophe. I will revel in the love of two young people and delight in the usually reserved British patriotism; a sea of waving Union Jacks festooned around the city of my birth and then hope to resume normal programming the very next day.

That's my wish for William and Kate too. Good luck.

The Grace and Dignity of the Japanese People

2011-03-19T12:14:00.000-07:00

Photograph: AFP/Getty Images

Like the rest of the world, I have been transfixed by the news of the Japanese earthquake and the tsunami. The photos of devastation and loss have moved me in ways I simply cannot put into words.

What has truly amazed me is the grace of the Japanese. There have been no reports of looting, riot or chaos, just a sense of calm resignation and a stoic endurance in the face of such catastrophic loss.

I’m a daughter of a war baby – a mother born in London and raised during the bombing blitz of her beloved city – a time of deep nationalism, emboldened in the pride of stoically keeping to the mantra of the now hip merchandise slogan: “Keep Calm and Carry On”. And yet, as I look at the Japanese people, I’m in awe at their grace and model behavior and the desire to help their fellow neighbor even at the risk of their own safety and security. I wonder if that same spirit would exist here in the West if such a monumental disaster of the same magnitude hit our shores.

Here in the USA we had Hurricane Katrina, made worse by a paralyzed and indecisive government. New Orleans fell into chaos and civil unrest as the levees broke. The Gulf Spill saw my former employer BP minimize and callously avoid responsibility and while it was a natural disaster that destroyed Fukushima nuclear power plant, Masataka Shimizu, President of the Tokyo Electric Power Company had the grace to apologize to the people of Japan, albeit after initially playing down the devastation.

Schyler said to me in the car the other day that: " The world is angry mommy”. No, I reassured him. It’s still a safe, beautiful planet but yet we are also living in a world where big banks fail and the notion that anything we hold sacred is as fragile as a broken wing. That one big earthquake, one big tsunami can destroy everything we possess; our infrastructure, our home, our family – our entire way of life in a moment. The photo above of a page ripped from a family photo album, amidst the dirt and chaos, left me wondering what became of those people - what was their story? Where are they now?

It redefines heroes for me and a lesson I hope I can share with my children. Celebrities we put on pedestals look vapid and insignificant. The culture of excess seems horribly out of place, when compared to the photos coming out of Japan, where food and shelter is a rare and precious commodity. God bless the grace of the Japanese people and their spirit to truly keep calm and carry on.

**How to help:

American Humane Association

American Red Cross

Doctors Without Borders

International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies (IFRC)

International Medical Corps

The Salvation Army in Japan

**There are other organizations too and I’m sure local businesses will be giving proceeds to such charities and while I commend them for doing so, be wary of marketing gimmicks to get you in the door with just a small percentage of the $ raised actually making much of a difference.

SAMA’s 4th Annual Knowledge Is Power Luncheon

2011-03-05T11:37:00.000-08:00

I'm sure so many folk must roll their eyes when I talk ad nauseum about A and this difficult road he has been traveling for sometime now, but documenting this journey for me has been key to maintaining my sanity and yesterday signified to me just how far we have come.

Yesterday, A was my guest at a charity luncheon, which I had attended last year (only in very different circumstances.) The annual luncheon is organized by SAMA (Science and Management of Addictions) and I wasn't entirely sure A would accompany me bearing in mind what the charity does. These charity luncheons are an acquired taste at the best of times, if only for the sticker shock of attending them in the first place but the work that SAMA does on behalf of teenage substance abuse is amazing and it has now become an annual fixture on my calendar.

When we arrived at the Sheraton in downtown Seattle, it suddenly struck me that back in December, I'd been in the very same grand ballroom, packed full with dressed up little girls and boys, celebrating the spirit of the season. J was there with her ballet company to perform Nutcracker - it was a beautiful and uplifting experience. And yet, here I was again with my eldest child (thankfully) celebrating a milestone in his recovery in that very same grandiose room, albeit sharing a very different message to the guests present.

Alex wasn't the only teen at the SAMA luncheon yesterday; the foyer was filled with other teens - beautiful children around A's age, only smiling in photos, with black ribbons to denote they were no longer with us. It was a sobering way to start the luncheon and I was touched as A walked around and took it all in, looking at each and every photo of teens less lucky than he.

A and I were one of the first to arrive at our assigned table. We simply took our seats quietly and took in the scene. A well dressed gentlemen joined our table and looking around at the empty seats, I was somewhat surprised he took the seat right next next to A. He introduced himself to both of us and then to my absolute delight, talked to A for the duration of the luncheon. As he left, he shook A firmly by the hand and told him what an absolute pleasure it has been to spend time with A and wished him well.

We enjoyed our meal, we heard sad stories with tragic outcomes and uplifting ones filled with hope. We listened to the keynote speaker Gil Kerlikowske (Obama's Drug Czar) and watched inspiring videos. As we stood up to leave, A embraced me right there at table and quietly whispered: "Thanks mom - I'm glad you brought me." I was terribly choked but not as choked as when the guests at our table reached out to A and wished him well too - all total strangers, not judging, just encouraging and my whole perception of 'ladies who lunch' changed in that moment.

I know the road is long; I know there are good days and, most likely, some difficult days ahead. I'll grab those good moments where I can, but each baby step we make, takes us a little further away from the dark days of 2010 and 2009 (ok..2008, 2007 etc etc...) and I'm so very grateful.

I'm grateful too for organizations like SAMA and what they are trying to do to destigmatize drug addiction in teens. If there is one thing I have learned that no matter your socio-economic group, teenage drug addiction affects so many families - good, hard working loving parents with smart kids who simply get lost.

As SAMA says

"All children should be able to reach their full potential"

and I think I saw a glimpse of that for A yesterday. I sure hope so.

Note:
SAMA raised $240,000 at the 4th Annual Knowledge is Power Luncheon on March 4th, 2011

A Terrible Injustice.

2011-02-27T23:33:00.001-08:00

Henry Granju ~ 1991-2010

In the midst of my eldest child's horrible spiral into substance abuse, I would sit up into the early hours pouring over Internet sites trying to make some sense of it all. From medical sites to substance abuse help groups; from news articles to parent bloggers - I tried to understand this new normal by reading what other mothers wrote about watching their own children struggle with addiction.

What comforted me (and forgive me "comforted" is not the right word at all) is that there were parents out there who were educated, intelligent, loving parents who like me, adored and cared for their child, but yet were just as helpless to prevent the disease of addiction rampantly take a hold of their child, no matter how much they were loved.

For several months I followed (and still do) the blog of one parent in particular. If you swing your eyes over to the right panel, she's simply listed as Katie Allison Granju but I have always known as her mamapundit or rather Henry's mama. Mum to a beautiful, curly-haired, guitar playing, intelligent boy, born just days before A in 1991, Katie had the same hopes and dreams for Henry; for him to have a long productive life and reach his full potential as a human being. How our beautiful boys grew up in different parts of the world and yet during the last few years, had their lives mirror each other so painfully, is quite sobering to me.

But Henry died.

In some states (other than Tennessee it appears) Henry was actually unlawfully killed - his death the direct result of a grievous injury. However, in a society where sadly the Charlie Sheens of this world have made the subject of substance abuse appear morally reprehensible - though in fairness I should direct my ire toward the tabloid press - any death that appears to have been drug related is very pointedly and systematically ignored.

The same could be said for A's best friend who died just days after Henry in 2010. The circumstances surrounding his death have been murky to say the least but the investigation into his overdose and the questions it has raised have remained unanswered. It would appear that the silence of addiction even transcends into death.

Please take some time to read Katie's blog and share Henry's story with others. After waiting patiently for nine long months for a thorough investigation into her son's death, no charges have been filed.

Henry was a much adored son, brother, grandson, nephew, cousin and friend. We owe it him and to all our children to protect them from harm ~ even in death.

Collateral Damage

2011-02-24T16:23:00.000-08:00

I'm getting that overwhelming sense of Déjà vu

Yesterday was a pretty brutal day in terms of the reality that is managing A's recovery. I'm not sure what planet I was on when I decided to take both J and S along for A's monthly drug counseling appointment with his doctor, but let's just say it was not a very well thought out decision.

The kids are on mid-winter break and so a quick jaunt up to Everett, drop off A at the clinic, while the kids and I had a light lunch in the hospital cafeteria, pick up the prescription and head home. Simple.

Wrong.

No point re-hashing the snafu that occurred between A, his doctor and insurance, but suffice to say, it was pretty bad and necessitated me dragging the kids back to the clinic and spending over an hour arguing with the drug clinic, insurance and everyone in between. I was completely spent by the time we left the hospital and though I wanted to remain composed in front of the kids, I was hurt, angry and frustrated and completely unraveled in the car on the way home.

Not good.

How do you explain to an 8 year old about addiction?

How to tell a 10 year old that love and compassion is not enough to help someone get well?

How do you explain to folk, so condescending to you, that you are not trying to work the system, but simply trying to save your child from the same fate as his sadly departed best friend?

I'm sick and tired.. actually, I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired of the whole merry ground.

I'm so done with drug clinics, medical insurance, prescription plan woes. When you have a drug addict in the family the entire household ends up in the "system". Every single day it remains central to where, what and how we live our lives.

We, the family, are the collateral damage in this whole mess.

God help a parent when their child turns 18 because the system removes you from the decision making process of care for that child. You are no longer part of the treatment protocol; your role is to merely open your check book as and when requested. There has been no feedback between A's doctor and myself (since the initial appointment) about A's treatment progress and finally, today when we spoke, the penny dropped that I wasn't trying to circumvent the system; trying to work the doctor to get something out of him, but alas after many years of patients (and their families) everyone gets treated with the same circumspect reaction. We are finally on the same page but only after months of misunderstanding and misconceptions.

I am NOT angry with A, though it is his actions that have put us into this horrible system. No, I am angry at an apathetic system that does little to help the individual and even less to support the family when the "illness" is drug addiction - the ugly stepchild of the health care system.

It feels like a system that appears set on making money on the backs of such misery when the success rate of most treatment programs is negligible. $400 here, $500 there for so called "inductions", which are little more than a UA and a background health survey. Of doctors who will charge the maximum allowable rate and bill medical insurance $375 for a urine test, when they most often use a $20 version purchased from a local pharmacy, well.. just because they can (A's previous doctor.) The system is inherently flawed and the longer I bear witness to such drug treatment programs, the more depressing it becomes.

Helpless is when love, compassion and understanding drug addiction just isn't enough.

Civilized Debate

2011-02-21T14:28:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I made the unfortunate mistake of dialoging on the sensitive topic of gun control. It is, and continues to be, one of those areas of debate that invariably ends up getting heated and well, just plain nasty.

I checked in on the Facebook thread today and it had sunk to a level of name calling and outright vitriol and frankly I wished I had not added my name to that steaming pot of hate. I thought what a pity that the simple art of civilized debate has more or less disappeared from society.

In fact the art of conversation is disappearing in the technological vat of texting, emails and social media, including Facebook and Twitter, where we have 140 characters to talk about..? Well, what exactly? In most cases Facebook and Twitter has become yet another forum to self-promote one’s own ego.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve embraced social media with the rest of the faithful, where world news breaks on someone’s Twitter Feed before Reuters can so much as upload a headline. If it wasn’t for Facebook, I would not stay as connected to my friends and family that I do, but there’s a downside and it’s dialoging with individuals almost anonymously and without censure, as if it matters not what you say, or how you say it, even if it offends.

But what about the lost art of civilized debate?

When I was about 17, I was forced to take part in a public speaking event, encouraged by an exuberant sixth form master, who tried vainly to pull us Feltham kids into the world of civilized debating with a nearby “posher” school; an independent school where debating was part of their curriculum. We stunk and I think we lost resoundingly. More educated and certainly more privileged than us comprehensive school kids, the speaker was eloquent and smart. Later, when I moaned to our teacher that we didn’t stand a chance, he took me aside and told me that debating had nothing to do with content, but HOW you say something. They won not because their content was better, but they were engaged in what I was saying; they argued politely and reasonably, while some of our audience retorted with accusations and pissy one-liners, primarily without substance and used only to raise a laugh, with one notable quote from our camp, which if I recall was something along the lines of: “Yer a f*cking ponce!” Yup, a sure way to win a debating competition – Not!

As I matured though, I was able to participate in debates, usually over a pint in a pub, where folk could congregate and thrash out varying viewpoints on all number of different topics (including those hot buttons; politics and religion) in a civilized and reasoned manner. Nowadays (I don’t know about England, but here in America) I’ve yet to participate in a conversation focused on a differing opinion (particularly on those two topics) without it ending pretty miserably. In instances such as this, we don’t engage anymore, we merely use the opportunity to project ourselves (and our egos) and resort to exchanging insults.

What a pity.

Media hasn’t helped this. TV doesn’t actually offer much in the way of civilized debate, particularly those so-called political pundit talk shows. Folk repeat these talk show host’s sound bites without having an original thought of their own. It’s not helped when our own leaders can’t even dialogue respectfully when in the great chamber of the Senate, former VP Dick Cheney told a colleague to “Go F*** Yourself” during an exchange of words.

It all comes down to common courtesy; the courtesy of listening to another’s viewpoint, even if it doesn’t jibe with your own. The courtesy of respecting a person’s right to hold an opinion even if you don’t agree with it. The courtesy of responding in a way that respects the other person, without them feeling you think they’re a moron.

Kenneth Clark, the British author and western civilization historian said:

“I believe in courtesy, the ritual by which we avoid hurting other people's feelings by satisfying our own egos. And I think we should remember that we are part of a great whole. All living things are our brothers and sisters.”

Words to live by.

..another child

2011-02-17T14:07:00.001-08:00

I was dropping off the kids today at school when I got called over by a dear friend of mine. She shared the news that someone we know very well, has a daughter with a heroin addiction. My car was in a long line of traffic so I could barely grasp what she was telling me, but as I drove off, I felt that sharp kick in the stomach again - a horrible sense of fear and hopelessness similar to how I felt the day I realized that my oldest child was a drug addict. All, I could think of was bless her and her pain.

It ~~has been~~ IS a challenging journey to beat drug addiction and I'm reminded each and every day that we are very lucky how far we have come in six months, albeit for A who is on such a long road to recovery. I'm so proud of A and what he has achieved but very cognizant of that fact we are no way out of the woods by any means.

It's been a good life lesson too. You soon realize who your real friends truly are, though understandably if your child has never had a drug issue, the whole subject is anathema to most parents and so it's hardly a topic of conversation that comes up (even if I had wanted to.)

I don't know this mother well enough to just pick up the phone, only that she once taught in Schyler's kindergarten classroom and he absolutely adored her. I hope to reach out to her, 'cause I know how it feels to be a parent of a drug addict and how you so often feel like you're a castaway on an island where there is no one to talk to and no one truly understands. Drug addiction has such a stigma; one of failure and desperation that you get the sense that it should never be discussed in "polite" conversation and so it remains secretive and no one is really talking about this epidemic that is destroying our kids.

Next month I'm going to the luncheon that I attended last year. This time, I'm bringing a guest - A. Last year, I sat and wept through most of it as A was in the midst of his (unsuccessful) outpatient treatment, but this year, I'm going to celebrate him and do my damnedest to help support other families who are going through the hell that is substance abuse.

Here's a statistic:
U.S. officials reported a 400 percent increase over 10 years in the proportion of Americans treated for prescription painkiller abuse and that the problem cut across age groups, geography and income.

Source here

I think it's time we start talking..

Here we go again....

2011-02-08T14:33:00.000-08:00

Yeah, right...this is me... I think it could be a before the before pic!!!

February? Where did January go?

So....I've been attending my gym again on a (semi) regular basis and I feel great about that.

I figured out recently that I've probably been overweight for well over a quarter of my life -so yeah, well.. that was depressing. I look at Jewel and her tiny physique and recall me as a kid, thin.. thin and thin and pray to God, she doesn't have body issues like me when she's older, which appear to have plagued me since I turned 40. The realization hit me recently that what kind of role model am I to her when the only exercise I seem to get is walking to and from the minivan to take Jewel to HER exercise classes, be that ballet or swimming or the one hundred other kid related activities, which require my attendance and 'minivan-mom' skills?

I actually re-joined the gym back in September and apart from popping in to pick up my membership card when it first opened, I never went back. I simply had no desire or motivation to work out. If I'm honest, I can't say I much relished working out with thin and fit high school students in their Nike spandex. At just $12 a month membership, the gym always seemed packed to the gills every day I drove past it (yeah.. DROVE past it, twice a day, five days a week), but after Alex signed up for his Sports & Fitness college class (and he asked me to work out with him??!) I decided that it was money being wasted, so here I be, complete with i pod and gym clothes, pounding the treadmill or streets again.

I hated it at first but now I'm beginning to enjoy it again. I pick times of the day when it's not too busy - the luxury of working freelance. I try to always do 30 mins of cardio - either treadmill or elliptical; and try to use the weights but ho hum, the weakness in my under used muscles is somewhat frustrating.

I found my old gym workout book, which listed all my previous weights and reps I used to log when I last was a regular member at the gym and I laughed out loud when I tried some of the leg extensions and could not so much as move that darn weight - oh how far we have NOT come in terms of fitness and well being!

Anyway, the fact is I'm back.

The fact is I've put my gym date on my calendar to ping me and remind to just go, just like any other important appointment,which I would not even think to miss.

So let's see how this all pans out...

Happy New Year...and all that...

2011-01-01T12:20:00.001-08:00

I'm so enjoying reading dear friends' blogs this morning on this first day of 2011 (1.1.11 - talk about a day of "firsts"!) Some are reflective but all capture that sense of hope for a blessed new year.

Last night, I began composing another 'end of year' report as I did last year but as I began to write, it was filled with such a sense of 'woe' that it felt it wasn't the most positive way to start afresh this brand new year. 2010 had been as challenging if not more than the year before. There were some truly dark days and ones filled with sadness. There were days that created wonderful family memories and ones that simply changed your life (yes, I became an American Citizen at the end of 2010. finally)

The sun is shining here in Seattle this first day of a new year and there's not a cloud in the sky - a day so full of sunlight that rehashing the dark days of 2010 would only spoil it.

I'm truly not a fan of New Years Eve as I've said before but I know Darren really loves to celebrate it. We celebrated New Years Eve with some lovely friends Patty and Jay - parents of our kids' friends and just good all round fun. They're from back east and ever since they've had kids, they have brought in the New Year at 9:00 pm NYC and called the day done. Since I've moved to the USA, I have resolutely celebrated the New Year at 4:00 pm London time but clearly a little early to crack open the champagne.

Last night we loaded up the kids around 10:00 pm and headed downtown to bring in the New Year by the Space Needle. I was warm, well fed and relaxed at Patty's house that I so did not want to drive into Seattle but I knew how much it meant to Darren. There is a sense that we might be moving onto pastures new in 2011 - nothing definite, but certainly changes that might take us away from Seattle, so Darren wanted the kids to experience New Years Eve at the Space Needle and so off we set to join the crowds downtown, like the crazy folk we are.

Downtown was so full of anticipation and buzz. The sky lit up as midnight finally hit the west coast and we had almost front row seats as the Space Needle exploded with fireworks. While I was attempting to take some crappy photos of the Needle on my iPhone, I got a phone call that said "Home" and there was Alex (who had chosen to stay home NYE) wishing me a Happy New Year and other sweet sentiments that I'll not share here, but ones that make a mother cry and remind you that each New Year brings hope, no matter what the year before brought you.

Happy New Year to all my sweet friends and family.
I wish you all good health, happiness and joy in the days ahead.

An American Girl..

2010-12-08T22:05:00.000-08:00

The newest American with "her" Flag!
The Stars & Stripes welcome me home via my sweet neighbours - The Parks!

I left the house this morning as a British citizen and returned home an American Girl.. poof! Just like that and gosh it feels weird.

On December 8th I had my US Citizenship interview at the jolly Department of Homeland Security (USCIS) at the unearthly time of 7:30 am and, as anyone who knows me, I can't actually compose a coherent sentence much before 9:00 am but there I be, papers in hand, to be interviewed to finally become a US Citizen in a country I have called home these past twelve years.

It's been a long journey to this point. Since March 1998 when I first arrived on US soil, my life has been consumed with the joys of USCIS paperwork, fingerprints and alien status (well, at least until I got my Green Card in 2002) and yet, I've dragged my feet to become a citizen because somehow, after all these years away from the Mother Country, I have not felt the time has been right to take that final step and become a fully paid up American citizen.

And so I arrived early that morning for my Citizenship interview, not showered, no make up - resplendent in momma sweat pants (heck I did clean my teeth at least!) to take a test that would qualify me to be a naturalized US citizen. To prove that my marriage to that darn American way back in '98 was (and is) viable and answer questions on US History and Civics. One has to answer correctly six questions out of ten (which is probably six more US facts that the average American knows!) in order to become a US citizen. I assumed I might even make it home in time for the morning school run!

I had the great fortune of being interviewed by a really lovely USCIS Officer - sweet, funny and who asked me such easy US civics questions, that I almost wanted to say to him: "Really.. after all these months studying 100 Civic questions and answers c/o the CD you kindly provided me which has played in my minivan on a loop ad nauseum? Is that it?" In addition to studying, I had spent the day before compiling a really impressive binder of paperwork for the attention of the USCIS (oh those poor trees!) with birth certificates of the kids, utility bills, old passports - you name it - I had it.

When it was all done and dusted with nary a glance at my impressive binder: ("Three years of Tax Returns Ms LaMarr? Oh gosh no thanks!") The Officer shook my hand, pronounced I was a US Citizen and told me to report back for the Oath ceremony at 12.30 which I assumed meant December 30th, but what was actually 12:30 pm THAT day. Thunder and lighting rattled the windows (which made us both jump - perhaps it was the Mother Country going "what the heck?") I accepted his congratulations and I was out the door in less than 20 minutes and back out on the street, thinking what just happened?

Somewhat in a surreal state, I phoned Darren to tell him the news, phoned Katie my friend, my in-laws and sat in my car as that freakish storm that hit Seattle blustered outside the car. Soaked to the skin, cold and tired, I was a little shell shocked at the idea of having the actual Oath Ceremony (in all my "finery") without my family present. Thankfully, we somehow (thanks to my friend Katie!) managed to notify the school, pull the kids from their respective classes and return to the USINS offices for my Oath Ceremony at 12:30 pm.

The ceremony is incredibly moving and I'm not sure what affected more - the amazing symbolism of the event with its inherent patriotism? Or standing there renouncing my loyalty and allegiance to Great Britain? Though, in fact the tears came when they announced my name to collect my Naturalization document and said "Carolyn LaMarr, United Kingdom" and I was overwhelmed with the sense that here I was, an English gal from a tiny London suburb called Feltham and an awfully long way from home, becoming a citizen of the United States.

Gosh, don't I look happy..
I'd have showered had I known that today I'd become an American... ha!

I have no regrets (never did like that oddly posed photo on my Green Card, which was handed back happily!) and I'm glad to finally put this immigration stuff in the "done" pile and yet this evening as I relax, the enormity of the day is hitting me hard. I'm thankful that I come from a country that doesn't care a jot whether I renounce my citizenship or not- the sense that once a Brit, always a Brit but I still feel a tremendous sense of finality and what I have just been through, though also pride that I stood with 62 other immigrants as we said the Oath of Allegiance.

Here's the Oath of Allegiance~

I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen; that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform noncombatant service in the Armed Forces of the United States when required by the law; that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law; and that I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me God

Sign me out Tom Petty.... xoxo

New Challenges...

2010-11-10T11:05:00.001-08:00

We were back to Seattle Children's Hospital yesterday to get the confirmation of Jewel's diagnosis for Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis (JRA)- it's not so bad and we shall deal but nevertheless, I wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity of just ONE MORE thing to manage in a year that can only be described as rather a 'train wreck.'

Jewel has a ballet pal with the same condition so she's taken the news with a shrug and got on with it - no diva issues (surprisingly!) She went off to ballet class last night without missing a beat, despite a long day of tests at Children's (and then an unscheduled Nutcracker rehearsal on top.)

As we sat in Children's Hospital waiting to be seen - knowing there were some truly heroic kids who are facing some real life or death challenges and thinking: "There, but for the grace of God" (as I always do..) I can't pretend I'm not sad and disappointed for Jewel. If we had looked harder we would have seen that she has one hip slightly higher than the other (her lovely physical therapist pointed that out at her first appointment.. ah ha!) but we didn't, so it goes..

Then this morning with a quiet house and two kids back to school (finally - Schy missed two days of school with a fever following Jewel's recent absences too) I'm in a contemplative mood and really want to say "ENOUGH"!

At least this time (see previous blog post) I was a much more supportive mum accompanying Jewel to her appointment, but rolled my eyes as we were led into the exact same examination room (photo above) that I'd sat with Alex not a few months ago as we desperately tried - and succeeded - to reschedule his last cranio-facial surgery after the Icelandair debacle; and all I could think was here we go again.

We're lucky.

This I know is true; you don't spend 19 years regularly visiting a Children's Hospital to know that you are luckier than most. Jewel will return to Children's next month for a colour contrasted MRI to see the extent of the inflammation to her joints (specifically her hip) and with regularly administered (via a general anaesthetic) injections and anti-inflammatory drugs, Jewel shall function normally as though we had never heard of JRA.

All of which means many more trips to Children's for the girl and no doubt the start of regular post-appointment Starbuck's dates; a tradition, I might add, started way back by her big brother following all his many trips to Seattle Children's Hospital!

What is JRA you may ask?

JUVENILE RHEUMATOID ARTHRITIS

Arthritis affects 1 out of 1000 children a year. One child in 10 thousand children will have a severe form of the disease. Arthritis in children is similar to arthritis in adults. It can start anytime after birth. Arthritis may affect one or many joints and any size joint.

Onset and severity of symptoms varies between types. Over 30 percent of children develop permanent joint changes. In addition, the growing child may experience abnormal bone growth. For example, the disease may increase growth in one leg bone but not in the other, producing one leg that is longer than the other. Another risk is when a child keeps a joint from moving to avoid pain. Lack of movement can weaken and shorten muscles causing a deformity over time.

Treatment includes:

drugs to reduce swelling and pain
range of motion exercises and
splints to prevent loss of motion and deformity

A balance between normal activity and rest is necessary. This will avoid fatigue and excessive stress on affected joints. To maintain a healthy attitude, do not isolate a child from his or her normal routine. The outlook for juvenile arthritis is often better than that for an adult with arthritis. Many children recover completely.

I'm all for that! Stay tuned..

Never Minimize..

2010-10-22T14:09:00.000-07:00

It's been a long week this week.

Jewel has been off school since Tuesday (with tendonitis and an unknown "ailment") and although every day she has worked on that day's classwork and assigned homework, my patience has worn a little thin as the 'stir craziness' has set in.

When I was her age, us kids were rarely off sick from school. Thanks, in part, to my parents (or perhaps that austere British stiff upper lip philosophy) where one had to be pretty much horizontal to be permitted to stay home from school. Mum was a little more forgiving but Dad not at all (this from the man who had just six ~ yes SIX ~ days off sick from his job in Air Traffic Control in a career of over thirty three years!) Enough said.

We went to the Doctors on Tuesday to see what was ailing Jewel (fever, every joint aching, general malaise) and the Pediatrician promptly sent us to Children's Hospital for blood work, but as Jewel was still very much under the weather we just went home that day. Wednesday came and Jewel was not up for it, Thursday the President was in town and much to J's relief we stayed home and then today I told her she was going no matter what. The result: one very stressed out and tearful girl.

To my shame, I pitched the whole appointment in terms of what her elder brother Alex had been through. The countless surgeries and appointments that kid has endured at the many children hospitals since he was born. Throw in little Schyler's (minor) surgery a few years ago and I was basically telling Jewel to get over her fine self as we left for the hospital.

And there she sat waiting in the reception area of Children's Hospital, totally stressed out and overwhelmed by the whole idea of a blood draw.

As I registered Jewel as a first time patient at Children's with the friendly receptionist, she pulled all the medical insurance information already set out in the system c/o of Alex's (and Schyler's) files and smiled at the amount of visits to Children's our family has made. "Yes I know," I laughed and then jokily told the woman that bless Jewel but she was getting into a bit of a state over a "simple blood work" compared to her two brothers' appointments and surgeries.

Frankly, I was a little embarrassed at all the drama and I was trying to minimize the whole ordeal but instead I believe I made it worse for Jewel and so I can thank the lovely Kelsey for leaning over the desk and very quietly and thoughtfully explaining to me, that for Jewel, today's procedure was probably just as overwhelming as the idea of any of her brother's surgeries. That for her, the sterile surroundings, the nurses, the needles etc, all new and unfamiliar, should be delicately handled as if she was undergoing any procedure at the hospital.

Oh..right...

So, I learned a valuable lesson today. Never minimize or be dismissive of someone's fear, particularly if they happen to be your own sweet child!

Never assume that their fear and concern is somehow less worthy by comparing it to another and in doing so assign it to less than it deserves. I've done this a lot lately when I've read folk's Facebook posts or blogs where they have seemingly been facing difficulties and I've laughed out loud as if to say "what difficulties?"

Ironically, my last blog post on being overwhelmed addressed such a thing, but I forgot that important message today and in doing so, didn't allow Jewel to be afraid even though she was quite entitled to be so.

Here's the wee thing.. home and feeling very relieved
(and no thanks to Mum!)

.. Tad overwhelmed..

2010-10-19T17:24:00.000-07:00

I was inputting some upcoming important dates the other day. Yet more busy days filling my trusty and oh so useful Outlook calendar and I sat back and looked at the screen, at what could only be described as a technicolor patchwork mess! Days filled with appointments - a few of them were mine - the rest were all the kids' commitments - lots and lots of commitments that pretty much tie up the remainder of this year.

Not that I'm complaining~well not much, but I joined my old gym last month and for the life of me most days I've not been able to go near the place (not such a huge issue as the place is slammed most mornings it seems) but it's the intent - it simply isn't there 'cause finding the time to fit just one more thing on my "to do" list just ain't happening. Even with pulling back from volunteer gigs, like resigning from the PTA Board, not volunteering in the kids' classrooms this year and so on; my days seem constantly in motion at the beck and call of the kids. I'm half joking when I say I'm on the verge of moving my bed into the minivan as it is where I seem to spend most of my waking hours.

I was feeling a tad overwhelmed the other day. An appointment of Alex's at Children's Hospital (Dental clinic) saw us wait an eternity to be seen by one of his surgeons. Over booked and clearly over-scheduled (sounds familiar) saw us leave without seeing his doctor and I was pissed - not as pissed as Alex but the colossal waste of time and effort irked me more than it should have. Bless him, but Alex takes up an inordinate amount of my time lately and it's a commitment I don't begrudge but I'd be lying if I said it's not a burden to chaperone him to each and every appointment he requires and be constantly diligent on a daily basis.

Jewel's ballet commitments shift up a gear with Nutcracker this time of year and again, it's a wonderful experience but a huge time commitment that is temporarily on hold as the wee thing deals with a painful bout of tendonitis. This current malaise provides a welcome break from the craziness of her normal after school schedule but regrettably more days absent from school and staying home with momma to rest and recuperate.

Schyler has the most awesome teacher this year whom we adore but clearly Schy's concentration issues (or lack thereof) has reared its head again and so "that" dialogue begins once more as Darren and I are torn between doing the "right" thing - whatever that is? Some days, it's all rather too overwhelming.

I jokily say that I can't wait for these kids to grow up. Darren and I talk of backpacking around Europe after they all leave home (nay, *he* talks about backpacking, I'm thinking Four Seasons and en suite bathrooms!) and yet our sixties will be looming and I think I'll be prepping for a deck chair on Brighton beach, with a 99 ice cream cone and a copy of "The Daily Mail" newspaper on my blanketed knees, 'chin-wagging' with dear old friends.

So I opened my blog today to initially write a "woe is me" post about how life as a mother simply overwhelms me a times - that it's not the gig I thought it would be or appear very good at some days. And then I clicked onto some of the links of other Momma bloggers I follow regularly and who have faced insurmountable tragedies and yet write about their adored children with such love and humour that I took a breath and thought get over your fine self!

Life goes by in a flash and before you know it, I will be on sitting on that beach, bundled up under a blanket ('cause us Brits sit on the beach rain or shine!) with a flask of coffee, rose coloured bi-focals, reminiscing about my sweet kids and how I miss them now they've grown up and finally left home at aged 40!

Note: Do please visit Nie Nie, for a truly beautiful video version of this song showing her amazing spirit and her adorable children and where I found the song: "Hourglass" by Mindy Gledhill and took a deep breath instead..... life IS good!

Hey Nineteen.....

2010-10-10T10:04:00.000-07:00

Nineteen is no milestone birthday as say eighteen is, or twenty-one, but this birthday, above all the birthdays my darling boy has celebrated, is one I am so very thankful to celebrate. We get to celebrate another birthday with A and believe me when I say that this fact alone, IS a milestone.

Today on Alex's birthday, I will honor and celebrate his best friend TJ (10/2/1991-06/14/2010) and honor and remember dear Henry Granju (10/7/1991-05/31/2010) for the battles they faced and the loss we feel at their passing.

These beautiful boys, born within mere days of each other in October '91, and whose innocence was lost to drug addiction.

Happy Birthday Alex - you are loved.

"Please take me along; When you slide on down"

Love Mum
xoxo

Ballet Beauty

2010-10-02T17:40:00.000-07:00

Ah Nutracker Nuttiness will shortly ensue and while I have scaled back from my 'helium hand' syndrome of volunteering at the slightest request, there will be many, many rehearsals, costume fittings, driving to different venues and generally taxi-ing "Miss Juliette", here, there and everywhere.

I love ballet but the commitment of Jewel's now three day a week ballet class schedule was not one I was particularly looking forward to (nor the $$ it costs each term) when September rolled around. Every year we think this might be the last hurrah for Jewel and then she gets all excited to put on that leotard, up sweep her hair into bun and spend one and half hours dancing around the Olympic Ballet studio three times a week. I knew we were doomed when Jewel decided to do the summer program this year and the opportunity to be taught by the beautiful former PNB Principal dancer, Mara Vinson. Of course, it sealed the deal when Mara joined the OBT faculty full time and my darling daughter was hooked.

I sat watching Jewel in her observation class this past week and was delighted how far she has come in the art of ballet as she starts her 7th year at OBT. I particularly love the friendships she has nurtured over the years. Jewel has a natural grace with her tiny frame, which appears well suited to ballet (and swimming, I remind her, which is a considerably cheaper hobby!)

Here are some photos and video of the ballerina and her friends..... enjoy!

Nina ~ Jewel ~ Sophia

Nina ~ Jewel

Mara Vinson ~ Jewel

Video: Jewel and Daphne

Video: Jewel and Sophia

And so we look forward to another season of "Nutcracker" (Jewel's a rat and a fairy - and not a ringlet curl in sight.. Amen!)

Different

2010-09-30T21:59:00.000-07:00

"Regardless of legal outcomes, our hope is that our family's personal tragedy will serve as a call for compassion, empathy and human dignity," Jane and Joe Clementi, parents to Tyler Clementi

RIP Tyler Clementi

and also:

Seth Walsh, 13, of Tehachapi Calif., hanged himself.
Billy Lucas, 15, of Greensburg, Ind., hanged himself.
Asher Brown, 13, of Houston, shot himself in the head.

~

I was eighteen when a friend and neighbour I grew up with committed suicide. I shall call him D; not that I don't want to state the name of this amazing, loving and beautiful human being, but to this day, to my knowledge, his family have never accepted the reasons behind his death, preferring to accept it was just a very tragic mistake in the heat of the moment.

D had struggled with his sexuality as far back as I can recall. He was a much loved younger son in a family of six; a sister and two brothers, both of whom who were strapping, fit and masculine. D was quiet, thoughtful, unsure of himself with a self-depreciating humour that was endearing, save that the joke always seemed to be on him. He was the first person in their family to go to university and I know this achievement, while celebrated, was also a huge burden on him.

A month before D left for uni, he asked me go on a date to a movie. We had dinner after and he asked me whether I'd be his girl friend. I remember finding the whole concept quite amusing, notwithstanding D and I had grown up together like siblings; our mothers had been pregnant at the same time, sharing the same midwife who would run between our respective homes on the same street waiting for one of us babies to 'pop'! I can well imagine at eighteen without the maturity of gracious tact, I told D a flat out "no thanks".

But more than that, I knew that D didn't *need* a girl-friend; he didn't need to arrive in college with the 'safety net' of a girl friend waiting for him back home. I candidly told him that I believed what he really needed was to use the opportunity of leaving home to embrace his sexuality - to "come out" as they say. I referenced a boy at our school, who had come out during 5th year (equivalent to the senior year at high school), who because of his larger than life personality, everyone had simply accepted the fact that he was gay (well...almost everyone.) D was hurt, embarrassed and we parted that evening in an uncomfortable silence.

D left for uni later that September. I moved on to the bright lights of London and BP and our paths never crossed again. I did see D about six months later in passing at a local supermarket with his mum while he was home on spring break. He barely glanced at me while his sweet mum, jolly and chatty, spoke about my friend K's (and fellow neighbor) upcoming wedding that weekend and what a celebration it would be with all us grown up neighborhood kids at the reception together.

D committed suicide a few days later, just a day before K's wedding when we would have all celebrated not only the first of us Harvest Road kids to get married but heralding us all into adulthood.

Tyler Clementi death has shocked a nation and left his family devastated and brokenhearted. While we scream about cyber bullying, lack of tolerance, invasion of privacy, homophobia and our hope to get the two perpetrators to pay for this "heinous" crime, we should all take a long hard look in the mirror about what our role is in this whole sham and how our society continues to judge others, based on race, sexuality, religious beliefs..... and on.. and on.

Like others, I have embraced social media and yet it seems that Facebook and Twitter are becoming arenas where everyone feels the need to play out their lives in public, whether it is their true persona or not. The need to provide entertainment to a given audience, no matter how base or puerile it is. Ironic then that the people who violated Tyler Clementi by recording him in a sexual act and live streaming it, have exposed their own culpability via the same social media sites they so embraced.

I shall leave it to Ellen to eloquently say what we all are feeling and to trail blazers like Seattle's own Dan Savage, who via YouTube tries to reach out to those who feel unheard: ItGetsBetterProject

Unchartered Territory

2010-09-07T23:07:00.000-07:00

Just over a month ago I sat in a hospital with my pager, a magazine and a big ol' Venti Mocha as I sat patiently for my eldest son to return from surgery. Ultimately, I also enjoyed the luxury of lying in a comfy recliner in A's room, while I flipped through TV channels, restlessly waiting for the boy to return from one more operation to "fix" him.

It's a routine I know well, repeated many times over albeit in different hospitals, even different countries, with different surgical teams, and dare I say, varying degrees of decent coffee (Seattle winning hands down.. no kidding?!)

Today, A is in quite a different hospital with doctors I have never met; with a protocol I barely understand and coffee... well... no comment. I can bring no gifts, no outside cup of joe, not even my purse - just my ID. I'm not allowed in his room; no real physical contact and have just one hour to see how he is doing in the cafeteria. He is not in prison, but gosh darn it, he might as well be, but for the time being he is safe and in their unusual way, they are also trying to "fix" him.

D is on a business trip and out of town. Life is busy, my work is fun and the kids are back to their usual routines of ballet classes and soccer. The house is full of back to school joy (and woes) and far flung back packs, homework strewn over the kitchen counter, forms to sign and the general buzz of family life and yet I feel like I just got dropped off on another planet, where I don't know the language and there is no one to ask which way to go?

I have been having vivid dreams lately and one particular dream keeps recurring; I'm in a room full of people I know and I'm stark naked and I know it. People still talk to me as if I'm dressed for the ballet and yet completely ignore the fact that I'm without clothes. God knows what it means, other than perhaps I'm a closet streaker, but it is incredibly frustrating (yeah and weird!) No matter how many times I seek some cover, folk smile, keep talking and pretend I'm fully clothed.

Metaphor for my life I wonder?

Now before I sound full of self-absorbed woe, there have been friends who have reached out to see what they can do for me and I guess the answer is pretty much nothing, unless you have walked this rocky road of substance abuse too. That said, the silence is deafening from even my own family. My much loved mother in law is praying for A and while that is sweet, I feel largely ignored by many as though A having a drug addiction is something not to be discussed. A said it well at our visiting time: "You know I don't have cancer - it's not life threatening mum; I brought it on myself and so they can get on with their lives reassured it wasn't their fault - this is NOT their problem".

Ah son, but it IS everyone's problem.

As I was leaving the hospital today I had to pay our insurance co-pay to one of the clinic administrators and seeing I was unraveling in her office, she politely closed the door and passed me a Kleenex. We were discussing next steps and whether A would be welcome home after treatment and, if not, what options he had.

I got so angry as we chatted; angry at the latest relapse; angry at the lost opportunities; angry at the sorrow he has brought into our family life and bless her, she listened to me ramble on. And then she said: "Do me a favour Carolyn; find a photo of A as a child. Really look at him and remember that despite how much you want to give up on him that the child staring back at you in the photo is the same child who sat before you today".

I picked up the kids from school. Snacks were eaten; homework got done, lunches made, ballet class a big success. I sang to my kids and put them to bed and told them I loved them. Cranked up the iTunes and looked through hundreds of photos of A as a child and she was right. Those big green eyes stared back at me and the videos of him as a child - well, beautiful.

I sincerely don't know what the future lies in this new uncharted territory but I am convinced that while I can't enable A's addiction or it appears, stop the madness, I most definitely will never give up on him. EVER.

Alex ~ Cairnryan, Scotland ~ 1995

(... what about that London accent then?!! )

Drugs Kill Dreams

2010-09-02T18:12:00.000-07:00

... well..yes they do....

I posted so happily about our summer in my blog just a few days ago, notwithstanding its inherent challenges we faced, but it truly felt we were beginning to turn a corner in a year that had proved so very trying. Tempting fate perhaps?

But here we are again; battling the same demons.

Back to spending days on the internet, searching for detox facilities, rehab centers, negotiating with medical insurance for benefits (who are probably wondering why they just paid out a $26,000 cranio-facial surgical bill for said child just a week or so ago!) Somewhat hopelessly (and rather retroactively) I have been reading articles like "How to avoid drug addiction relapse" or "What can I do to prevent my child doing drugs?" and "Did I enable my child?" To that question, apparently a resounding YES!

So.. sadly, NO my child is not "sleeping in his own bed at night" for we removed him from our home and we're back to wondering where he is. No, I was not ready for the next "crazy installment.." if it turned out to be this latest setback.

Drugs decimate families; this, I know, is true.

And so I missed out on all the first day back to school excitement for A's siblings; seeing their new classrooms, meeting their teachers; helping unpack their shiny new school supplies; catching up with school friends-some not seen since June and sharing a coffee with happy parents as we 'celebrate' our freedom from 12 weeks of summer vacation! No, instead I was trying to assist my oldest child, who clearly needed me more that day, as we sat in a rehab clinic and thought how on earth did we get here (again?) Of course, while it appears A really wants to enter an inpatient program to deal with his addiction, medical insurance has other plans (that would be a firm NOT covered.)

Meanwhile, I'm still looking for the answer to that endless question of why?

.. Seriously?

2010-09-01T00:13:00.000-07:00

Summer of Twenty Ten

2010-08-29T17:39:00.000-07:00

Jewel - her summer spent primarily submerged in water....

The Summer of '10 - (doesn't quite have the ring of, say...the summer of '69.. now does it?) - what a mixed bag of blessings, but as the kids return to school next week I wanted to remember that no matter what moments life brings us, whether that is joy or sorrow - good times or bad, time marches on relentlessly and, as a new school year looms, another summer vacation is officially over.

Here's our summer of 2010 redux:

~June~

What an incredibly emotionally charged month this turned out to be. Promise of long summer days ahead, farmers markets, kids out of school - the good stuff and the not so good stuff; the utterly tragic death of Alex's friend just days after sending Alex on a one way ticket to Scotland; the long distance phone calls between us and a longing to see him; friendship woes, financial worries etc, - all culminated in such a trying time of simply having to put one foot in front of the other, while presenting to the world the usual, "everything is just fine and dandy" persona. It was frankly a pretty unpleasant time, exacerbated with the timing of a somewhat misguided decision on my part to get braces at the grand ol' age of 47. I'll spare you the three teeth extractions and well, June was a month I'd rather forget!

There were high spots of course. I'm very proud of the kids (and sweet Olivia) walking in this year's Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in downtown Seattle. As we walked in the pouring rain, holding the names of so many amazing and brave women who have fought (or are fighting) the disease of breast cancer, it rather put my life into perspective.

Schyler * Mum * Jewel * Olivia~Race for the Cure, Seattle

Other good moments included Schy's basketball camp at Alex's old high school and how he really enjoyed it, though it felt so strange to walk those halls and know that Alex wasn't part of the Class 2010. No June graduation for him; no year book to sign; no prom or homecoming or senior portraits. Alex's so called high school 'career' had been a miserable failed experiment for sure and yet on the first day of Schy's basketball camp in the school's gym, I bumped into Alex's old history teacher (Mr. Brophy) who was assisting with the camp. His positive, upbeat praise of Alex as a former student of his; his hope for Alex's future and the reassurance that he felt strongly Alex would eventually figure it out and somehow would ultimately be successful, was something I was very grateful to hear.

~July~

I love July, which truly signals the arrival of summer for me. As always, such fun times spent with many wonderful friends. Trips to the u-pick farms; the sweet lavender farm and late night beers on the deck and BBQs c/o the husband.

4th of July fireworks at the Partman's, who graciously allow their home to resemble Armageddon annually and allow this Brit to join in the festivities!!

"Uncle Sam" gets a 4th of July smooch

Our sweet neighbour Audrey's amazing birthday party complete with a magical rabbit and face painting (even for a recalcitrant prince!)

Schyler ~ Tiger happiness at Audrey's Birthday party ~ July 13

Jewel's ballet camp (made all the more fabulous by former PNB Principal ballerina Mara Vinson teaching summer school) and Jewel's first week long overnight camp with Olivia.

Olivia and Jewel - Spy Camp - off for the swim test on the first day

Play dates with sweet friends; spa days with ballet pal, Kylie; slip and slide fun in the yard with the neighborhood kids; day trips to the beach; warm summer evenings (well.. not too many of them.. summer of '09 it wasn't!) and new this year, summer swim team. I wasn't entirely convinced this was such a good idea - four practices a week, weekend swim meets, Saturday early morning start practice etc etc., so much for the 'downtime' of summer and yet for Jewel, this proved to be such a fabulous experience and it was simply a joy to watch her progress as a swimmer.

Swim Meet #3 versus Shoreline Gators

Schy enjoyed baseball camp, swim classes and hanging out with his best buddy Ethan and school pal Jimmy.

The highlight of the month (for me at least) was the return of Alex from Scotland in time for his big surgery. Notwithstanding the usual medical insurance dance, we were so lucky to have the amazing talents of Dr. Hopper at Children Hospital, who gave Alex a 'normal' functioning nose. I'd be lying if I didn't say the post surgical recovery was stressful and emotionally draining nor can I say that Alex being home has been plain sailing, but there is a comfort that each and every night Alex is sleeping in his own bed and that he managed to get his "last" surgery completed in time (with no thanks to Icelandair who very nearly 'caused the whole darn thing to be canceled - see below)

Jewel and Schy visit Alex day after surgery ~ Children's Hospital, Seattle

~August~

Did I mention swim team?

Jewel - Summer Swim Team Championships ~ Yost Pool, Edmonds, WA ~ Aug 2010

August will be indelibly marked as the month I took on a big corporate and clueless airline (Icelandair) and won! Well, with a little help from friends, Darren's social media blitz and the uber-talented travel journalist, Christopher Elliott! The whole sorry saga is too long to recap but in essence Alex (due to fly home on July 17th for his surgery later that week,) was denied boarding his flight to Seattle due to an error made by the handling agent at Glasgow airport and then had to fly home two days later missing vital pre-surgical appointments at Children's. To add insult to injury, Icelandair then charged our credit card $905 for the re-booked flight. It all turned rather nasty from that point forward dealing first with Icelandair in London and then the corporate office in Reykjavik -with absolutely no hope of a resolution. However, working in PR finally paid off in that I pitched our story to Mr. Elliott (see his blog for our story) and he decided to feature the Icelandair "snafu" on his site. It taught me a valuable lesson that IF you feel that you are in the right, never give up even when folk tell you that it's not worth the headache.

Icelandair.. hmm?

Other than Icelandair, August was a month filled with fun activities. Jewel completed her summer swim league season with fine performances at the championship meet and enjoyed a limo ride and an overnight sleepover in a local hotel suite c/o Olivia's 10th birthday celebrations. Schyler was in hog heaven at a week long Lego camp and celebrated his 8th birthday at the movies followed by, pizza, cake and ice cream at home with friends Ethan and Jimmy and his family (with, not unsurprisingly, a whole lot of Lego themed presents!)

Schyler and buddy Jimmy ~ Lego camp ~ Aug 2010

Alex continued to heal from his surgery and attempted to stay out of trouble by reconnecting with old (and nice) friends. I think the highlight of the month though was a family camping trip (for the entire clan) to Hood Canal, arranged in haste when the kids' soccer camp for the week was canceled. Not a fan of camping in a tent (at all!), the whole family sitting around the camp fire at night, eating S'mores, Alex and his sister playing guitar, chatting and laughing and simply just being, is one I shall remember for a long time.

Alex and Schyler - Potlatch State Park, Hood Canal, WA ~ Aug 2010

I'm not sure I'm at all ready for Fall next month (officially kicks off Sept 21 but in Seattle, it feels like it has already started) but I know I am ready for the next crazy installment..

stay tuned..

Torn

2010-07-02T19:29:00.000-07:00

Sunset over Cairnryan, Scotland

A month ago I sent my eldest child on a plane on a one-way ticket to Scotland, the place of his birth, to get away from....well, let's not rehash the reasons why ... and re-evaluate his life after pretty much making one gigantic mess of his life here in Seattle.

I was missing him terribly and wallowed in a pity party of regret, guilt and sorrow until one of his dearest friends died from a drug overdose just a week or so after he left and so I snapped out of my self absorbed woe. I realized we had indeed been fortunate that we could put A on a plane and remove him from this cesspit of drug users and abusers, not to mention put 5,000 miles between him and this insanity.

A has been in Scotland for a month and by all accounts is doing well. He has been pampered by his much adored Irish granny, hung out with his many cousins, gone fishing, rode horses, had a dram or two in the pubs of Portpatrick (!), learned to play guitar with his musically inclined and talented family and generally basked in some freakishly hot sunny weather that the UK has been enjoying lately. He and I have enjoyed long and positive phone calls and delighted in telling each other our respective latest updates. He sounds happier than he has in a long time, more clear headed, more at peace but yet with no real game plan for his future. And so, with his last big surgery looming here in Seattle and his desire to finish school, A has asked to return to the USA.

And as much as I miss him I don't want him to come back though it saddens me to say so.

The one thing you learn as a parent of an addict is they are extraordinarily clever in hiding their addiction. They are manipulative but charismatic liars who are able to quite convincingly make one feel that it is in fact YOU who is paranoid, hysterical and losing the plot. I know A never set out to become a drug addict but like so many of his friends, he held that misguided perception that addiction happens to other people. Indeed, ask any of A's friends who are mourning the loss of their friend to a drug overdose and they naively believe that he was "just unlucky" and continue with their own drug addictions unabated.

That said, I did not cancel A's surgery when he left Seattle, more from the fact that I had not wanted to explain the reasons why. We have a deep bond with the cranio-facial department and any child who is a long term patient at Children's Hospital, Seattle becomes family. It's all first name terms - they know everything about the family situation behind the patient because they care and so I did not want to explain that A had fallen off the (drug addiction) wagon - was back on the very drug that decimated our family life (and finances) and had been sent to Scotland to 'recuperate'.

I've spent the last six months researching drug addiction; I've read countless other parents stories of their kids' dependency on drugs and while there have been a few success stories of kids undergoing detox and rehab and getting back their lives, the majority of the stories makes for some very depressing reading. Statistically, A has a far greater chance of falling back into his drug addiction than adopting a clean and sober lifestyle. It hasn't been lost on both D and I that in order for A to undergo his latest reconstructive surgery, he must be prescribed pain medication to deal with post surgical recovery; just how DOES a drug addict undergo any surgery? The jury is out on that one...!

So, we have purchased A a flight ticket back to Seattle (with a return flight booked to Scotland a later date) and hold our collective breaths. His siblings are delighted at the prospect of seeing their big brother. I'm dying to hug him again and see his face. D is in lock down mode..

I spoke to another mother of a drug addict online and asked her...how the heck as parents do we help our drug addicted kids survive the future months or years ahead? And she told me quite succinctly that you DON'T. Notwithstanding A is 18 and an adult and needs to make his own decisions, but as a family you just have to take it day by day, so for now - surgery goes ahead as planned on July 22nd. A arrives back in Seattle a few days before and gets to sleep in his own bed and us parents probably won't sleep at all....

Sometimes I wish we could all move to Scotland to run away..

Photo: Portpatrick, Scotland

Somebody's Son...

2010-06-11T14:48:00.000-07:00

....for Alex's dear friend.......and all our addicted children...

For TJ ~10/02/91 - 06/14/10

Breathe Me.. by Sia

Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there's no-one else to blame

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Ouch I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Yeah I think that I might break
I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I'm needy
Warm me up
And breathe me

Letters to my Boy

2010-06-08T10:08:00.000-07:00

The sun is shining today and I'm thankful. The constant Seattle rain has really been such a downer making the last few days seem more arduous than they already are.

I'm still weeping for my eldest child and missing him terribly, but the pity party is slowly wrapping up and leaving the building.

This morning Schyler wrote a note for Alex that just my broke my heart. We were rushing to get out the door to school (as usual) and so impatiently I went searching for the wee lad to see what was holding him up. I found him lying on his tummy on my bedroom floor, pen in hand, writing a letter to Alex and I thought my heart would break:

This is what Schyler wrote to his brother:

To Alex From Schyler
I miss you a lot Alex and Mom and Dad miss you a lot too and Jewel misses you too.
From Schyler
p.s. mom misses you a lot, alot, alot, alot xox

I wished we could have reached out to Alex more. We had no idea that Alex had been struggling to stay away from drugs nor that he had written in his journal (which of course, had been private) attempting to talk himself out of falling back into the abyss, particularly as his final surgery was looming.

The entry:

Alex wrote:

Alex, I know how bad you are feeling right now. Horrible. I know. But please don't do it again. It's not as cool as you think; you have so much on the line. Your family loves you and your surgery is imminent. Just get through these last few days man and fight through it. Just remember the finger trick man. You, more than ever, can do it now. May 11 it starts

(then a daily chart for each day he could stay off drugs- never filled in..)

I'm so sorry Alex.

There were clearly signs that he was battling to stay clean, but life gets chaotic and God knows I missed all of them. He was constantly asking me to spend more time with him - go for coffee with him, or take him out to lunch. However, even when I found the time (rarely) the subject never came up and I'm not entirely sure it would have made a difference, but at least I know Alex tried, that he knew we loved him and there's some comfort in that.

Hang in there my beautiful boy...
mum
x

"My name is X and I'm a mother of a drug addict"

2010-06-06T13:10:00.000-07:00

Alex ~ Scotland circa 1993

I have wanted so much to blog regularly about my family life; to capture memories and highlights of the day to day lives of my kids, but alas it never quite transpires that way - despite the fancy schmancy new template and all. And then for the most part, our family life has had some very, very dark days that I couldn't bear to re-live in the words of a blog, nor share my shame and sadness of the difficulties that we have faced as a family. Besides, most days it's a question of getting the kids from A to B and back again, ballet and swim classes, work for my friend and PTA commitments - usual family life but in the past year, it's all I have been able to do to just put one foot in front of another.

You see, I'm a mother of a drug addict and it's the hardest thing I have ever had to say out loud. My beautiful, irascible, frustrating, loving eldest child has been struggling with a substance abuse problem ever since middle school. The trouble is as parents, we assume that such dumb things our kids do, like dabbling in drugs, are "phases" and for many kids it is just that.. but not Alex - not my baby.

Alex ~ London 18 months old

But let me take a step back....

About five years ago on one horrible afternoon I found Alex slumped in our bathroom. He had been inhaling (or huffing as it's called) rubber cement (glue) of all things; something found in most pharmacies and craft stores and apparently was the drug du jour of his middle school crowd. If I recall, we probably bought the darn thing for him for a school project except the only thing that Alex created was a whole lot of stress and worry. It scared the Bejesus out of me and I actually think the experience shocked Alex too and so a lesson learned; move along, nothing to see here or worry about - a stupid adolescent experiment that went horribly wrong.

High School arrived and Alex, very much part of the skateboard scene, dabbled in marijuana, which appalled us and although we operated a zero tolerance policy here at home, such a rule was so very difficult to enforce outside the house. We grounded Alex, took away privileges, punished him; we did all the things parents do to demonstrate to the world (and one supposes their child) that they've got this thing handled. We could not always enforce our will outside the home but by golly we had our shit together in the family home. The absolute irony of course, was that there were far worse drugs lurking in our own home; accessible to Alex in the most benign of places, our bathroom cabinet.

Let me introduce you to Oxycontin. A pain medication; a PRESCRIBED pain medication. It's been a featured medicine of our home since I can't even recall when. Back pain? Take an oxy. Wisdom teeth out? Pop an Oxy... Even Alex had bottles of the stuff after one of his many surgeries at Childrens Hospital. And there those bottles of Oxycodone sat, in our bathroom cabinet, unlocked within easy reach of even the smallest child. Sure the bottles had child (but not teen) proof safety lids but we had absolutely no idea of its potential to destroy our eldest child's life (and take our family along in the process.) I have no idea when Alex decided to 'graduate' to prescription medication; nor do I have any clue that his high school was in fact the 'pharmaceutical' headquarters of our local neighborhood. Here's just an example of what is available on most of our high school campuses:

Ambien
Ativann
Cocaine
Codeine
Crack
Darvocet
Demerol
Dexedrine
Dilaudid
Ecstasy
Heroin
Hydrocodone
Lortab
Marijuana
Meth
Methadone
Morphine
Oxycontin
Percocet
Vicodin
Xanax

I nearly added links to each one so you could look up what all of these items could do to our children but it’s so utterly depressing that it makes one want to cotton ball one's child and never let them leave the house until they are at least thirty!

Clearly not all kids will succumb to the scum drug dealers hanging around our high schools; not all kids will decide they are so darn worthless that somehow they should do drugs, but if they do experiment with illegal (and legal) substances for many it becomes a disease that envelopes them, takes over their lives and, for some unfortunate few, will ultimately kill them.

I went to a charity luncheon once; you know the type, where it's full of "ladies who lunch", they listen to a keynote speaker, get suitably choked at a video (usually shown as the donation envelopes are passed out) fill out their cheques and write off said donation at the end of the tax year. I'm very cynical of these kind of charity events if I'm honest and only got invited because frankly the table host needed bums on seats. I gathered the event was for an excellent substance abuse charity (actually it is an amazing and worthwhile charitable organization. It's called SAMA ) but the timing quite frankly sucked. Alex was in the midst of an outpatient treatment for his Oxycontin addiction (which ultimately failed) but I went and then proceeded to cry my eyes out at the countless stories of so many of our young kids who were in the grip of drug addiction and wondering how the heck my son became one of them.

The word "disease" is often invoked during such discussions on substance abuse. The use of the word "disease" for drug addiction has always rankled with me as cancer is a disease - not a word that should be used for those who choose to take drugs. My darling mum didn't choose to get skin cancer - that was a disease; a full blown horrible, killing disease that took her away from a heartbroken family. I could not wrap my head around using the word to describe what was happening to Alex and yet, while he stupidly made the bad choices that got him addicted to drugs, the disease was in fact, that he could not stop.

And so fast forward to today and our son is so badly addicted to drugs that he would steal thousands of dollars from our bank account and plead with me to be able to sell his things because he can't live without the f*cking drug Oxycontin, not to mention equally terrible street drugs that I can't even bring myself to say in print.

Last week, we did the one thing that no parent wants to do. We threw Alex out of our family home. I can't even begin to describe what it is like to not know where your child is sleeping at night when you tuck your other children into bed, safe and sound. Yes, he returned home a day or so later disheveled and contrite; yes, I fed and hugged him, but stay at the house he could not and this past week, he decided that thanks to one too many dodgy drug deals, it was probably best all round if he left town and moved to Scotland for a while to sort his life out.

There will be no high school graduation for Alex next week; there will be no celebrating the milestone of he becoming a fully fledged adult with the next big adventure looming. No college plans, no job..nothing. His final surgery, coming as it does after such a long painful journey with his cleft lip and palate, is scheduled for July with not much likelihood that it will take place, which saddens me more than I can say.

I kissed my sweet boy goodbye at Sea-Tac airport last Thursday and put him on that plane to Scotland on a one way ticket. I've said goodbye to Alex quite a few times at airports over the years when he has visited his family but I felt so sad and utterly bereft at returning home without him. I have this searing grief, a sense of loss, which I know is so ridiculously self-absorbed of me, 'cause Alex isn't dead; there is always hope and yet, I am grieving for the childhood lost and for siblings who miss him so. I ache to hug him and tell him we can make him better just like we did when he was a small child and fix the hurt. I want to tell him I've researched all these in-patient drug clinics who can make him well - rid him of this disease of addiction, but of course, we can't "cure" Alex - no one can - only he can do this. We can't stop this madness. The sense of powerlessness that one cannot stop the drug addiction that has taken over our children, truly sucks the most.

Love your children; talk to your children about drugs. Sadly they may do drugs in spite of you and despite your best intentions. But love them regardless and educate yourself about the horrible drugs that pervade our neighborhoods, our schools and even in your own medicine cabinet. Know who your kids' friends are and more importantly who their friends' parents are. Never assume that drugs are merely a 'phase' that they will simply grow out of. For so many of our kids, drugs mask a deeper underlying mental health issue, which is rarely addressed even when our kids do get treatment for drug addiction.

Don't think that because your kid is in sports six days a week, that they are necessarily in a "good" and "safe" crowd. If there is one myth that has been busted for me, is that drugs like Oxycontin are incredibly democratic. From jocks and cheerleaders to soccer moms and bank managers, anyone can get addicted to prescription medication. Oxy is particularly insidious and I'm appalled that doctors still prescribe it really without much education to how easily it can be abused.

My name is Carolyn LaMarr and I'm a mother of drug addict.

Alex ~ San Francisco - 1998

Notes:

I wrote this blog because I grieve for a mother I have never met. I grieve for her child Henry Granju, a beautiful boy, who also battled the disease of addiction. The same age as my son, Henry was born within three days of Alex in 1991 and he sadly died on May 31, 2010. I found his mother Katie's blog by chance as I was vainly trying to research support groups for mothers of teen addicts. I read her honest account of being a mother of a drug addict; her son's vicious attack (a drug deal gone awry) and her hope for his survival and then her utter pain and devastation at his passing. You can read about Henry here:

New Year ~ New Template

2010-02-21T19:20:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!

Well, hardly New Year as we're starting the last week of February tomorrow but the thought was there. Time to dispense with the green and black blog template, which I can't say I ever really liked but it came with a nice banner and saved me the trouble of making one -thanks again to Cutest Blog on the Block for the latest one; you are truly talented ladies (Editors note: and if you should choose to use them because you found the site on my blog - please give credit not only to those talented moms at Cutest Blog but me too!)

So the goal was to blog regularly - yeah. Thing is I do write daily and I guess Facebook has become my journal where I "blog" about what the fam.are up to. Throw in Twitter, plus a WW board with dear friends, and I pretty much write something every day - just not here. However, this weekend concluded such an awesome week of sunshine (cleverly coinciding with the kids' winter break from school for a rare change) that I felt compelled to at least blog about the fun time we all had.

I went to church today (me and my agnostic husband) and we listened to the lively stand in pastor and the message I took from it was that what we truly leave behind when we depart this earth are our stories - not possessions, not money, not that fancy house or car but our stories of the life we have lived and the memories we created.

The best my kids can hope for will be a USB flashcard with all their photos upon it and a couple of birthday cards. So here we go... best intentions and all that.

Stay tuned for I shall post pics of the kids' winter break - the steaming hot cocoas after a day on sun-filled (albeit blustery) beach, swimming and hanging with friends... stories that I hope they will remember (or won't if I don't bloomin' write them down!)

Watch this space kids...
xoxo

End of Year Report

2009-12-31T16:39:00.000-08:00

Farewell 2009 - you looked so stylish with your double zeros and a flaunty number nine on the end!

I've known better, happier years but I've also known years of absolute sorrow (1994 was a doozy and 2006 wasn't much better...) but I digress...

2009 was, in the most part, a pretty good year with fun times with family and friends, sadly not documented by this blog (mea culpa folks..) We had an amazing winter including snow and then a summer of hot sunny days. Wet spring days and, of course, plenty of wet autumn days (but thankfully NO record breaking snowy autumn days like 2008)

I had planned to recap the year's events - the good and the not so good but then I thought, well why?

I'm always reflective at the end of the year and to be completely candid I'm not a huge fan of New Years Eve - the countdown and the lamentable Auld Lang Syne. Probably even more so since I moved to the West Coast of the USA where I get that sense we are somewhat late to the party as the rest of the world has already celebrated the brand new year before us! Thank goodness for our sweet friends the Wilkies who make it fun!

A sweet friend (ok.. it's YOU Eleanor) said on her Facebook page today: "Why look back, when each new day holds so much potential for such profound joy?"

Ain't that the truth.

It's a start of a brand new decade too!

I've spent the last decade looking back at WHO I used to be, WHAT I used to be and WHERE I used to be and to what purpose? Yet, here I be - the sum total of all that I've done and all that I've lived.

Yep, 2009 had its share of regrets and heartache but it also had moments of immense joy.

I'm looking forward to the New Year and as I'm short on good quotes (save sweet Eleanor's above) I'll leave with you this:

"For last year's words belong to last year's language. And next year's words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning." – T.S. Eliot

I'm looking forward to making some new beginnings...welcome 2010.

Happy New Year to my dear friends and family - wishing you peace, hope and joy

What a difference a year makes....

2009-12-24T12:25:00.000-08:00

White Christmas? Not this year!

(Front of our house after the snowstorms of 2008 and after much shoveling of snow!)

Christmas Eve 2008

Christmas Eve 2009 - sunny and blue skies

~ Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas,
Happy-whatever-you-celebrate-Day!
and Peace and Blessings for 2010 ~

Band of Gold II

2009-12-20T21:27:00.000-08:00

Gosh, these crash diets really work.....voila....!

(I wish...)

Nope, this is my late mum's wedding ring, which has been locked away since her death and it fits me perfectly.

I shall wear it until I can wear my own wedding band again and I'm taking my sweet mum along for the journey.

Night!

(Editors Note: Darren called this "You're wearing-your-mother's-wedding-ring-and-now-you-feel-much -better" blog and for the first time this weekend, he'd be right!

Band of Gold......

2009-12-19T13:48:00.000-08:00

That is my bare hand.

My bare left hand.

My bare wedding ring finger on said hand.

If you take a close up of that left middle finger you'll see all that remains of where my wedding ring used to be - a nice indentation mark.

Note: relax, I've not taken flight to England, bags packed and a ceremoniously flinging of the wedding ring across Sea-Tac airport runway as I head home, kicking and screaming...!

I removed my wedding ring the other night after Darren noticed that it looked....well... rather too tight. Never one to be subtle, and Lord knows I didn't marry Darren for his TACT, he asked me if it felt uncomfortable. I said no and yet when I came to move it, it would not budge. Stuck firmly on my now pudgy fingers.

Darren placed that band of gold on my finger on our wedding day on May 24, 1998 in beautiful Healdsburg, California and it's not left my finger since; not even through two pregnancies, which saw me balloon in size (both times) and yet fortunately my fingers remained relatively unscathed and so did my wedding ring. I have not removed my wedding ring even to paint the house, do chores, bathe the kids etc - never.

Seven years after the birth of my youngest child those postpartum curves are now lost in an increasingly expanding waistline, reflected in a scale that continues to climb as steadily as the candles on my birthday cake (though exponentially it would appear!)

My sweet father in law would tease me about my weight when I first married his son but has since stopped doing so; I presume because the fat jokes are no longer funny when the spare tire I was sporting back then has since been replaced by a whole Hummer.

I'd be lying if I said it doesn't depress the heck out of me and yet I'm not unhappy about being fat 'cause the truth is I'm fat because I'm unhappy as most 'larger' folk would tell you. No, we don't sit and gorge our faces with food, or sit on the couch watching soap operas 24/7; ironically we are too busy managing the dramas of others in our lives to even notice that we are creating one of our very own.

And so here I be... ring-less, save from an intricate pattern that circulates my bare left finger, which has yet to fade. Darren and I laughingly said that perhaps I should have a tattoo in place of a wedding ring which would expand with me (and you wonder why the man was single all those years...! ) But right now, it has become somewhat of a symbol of all that is not quite right in my world and a reminder that somehow I've simply not found the time to take care of me.

So as 2010 approaches, I'll not be re-sizing that ring nor will I be using any bonuses on a brand new one to replace it. I'm going to use that little band of gold as a tangible reminder that the girl who first wore that ring is still there (albeit buried under a few layers!) and I'm bloody well going to find her.

Happy New Year!

Nut-crackered...

2009-12-15T20:52:00.001-08:00

Well, Jewel and I survived another Nutcracker season and I write this with trepidation because the season isn't yet over and although Jewel's cast ("A") has completed their run, there are still three or four more shows remaining of the season, so I will secretly pray that Jewel's "twin" stays fit and well and she will not have to fill in.... it's been a long eight weeks or so!

I cannot lie - I loathe and detest the scheduling nightmare that is Jewel's now annual foray into the performing arts. This year Jewel was a party girl and true to the Victorian period in which The Nutcracker is set, she had the hair curls to match - all forty of them, beautifully rolled and curled prior to each and every performance and enough hairspray (appropriately called "Freeze It") to remove most of the ozone layer over Seattle.

Last year when I worked the dressing room for the Nutcracker shows, I dressed many of the party girls and would listen to their individual horror stories; "I was in the chair for FIVE hours while mum curled my hair"; "I would simply cry my eyes out as the rollers were pulled from my head". Or overhear some of the mothers who would triumphantly state that their sweet daughters had watched movies like "Harry Potter" on a loop at least TWICE while they painstakingly attempted to recreate those darn Victorian curls and I thought right then and there, I hope and pray Jewel will NOT be a party girl the following year.

Back in October when auditions were taking place and casting was in full swing, I tentatively suggested to the ballet mistress that I thought Jewel would make a fabulous reindeer. Let's see, they wear a nice brown leotard, brown tights and head gear and not a curl in sight. They can show up about half an hour before curtain is up and have few rehearsals: "Look at her long limbs" I told one mother. "Wouldn't she make an awesome reindeer?!" The mother laughed and told me I was probably the only 'stage mother' who would wish her daughter on stage in antlers over a pretty silk dress with petticoats, but trust me....!

And so it was Jewel was a party girl this season and a pretty one at that. The rehearsals, the tantrums, the two to three hour hair curling sessions (usually with tears - hers and mine!) the almost two hour pre-performance arrival times before the rest of the cast for hair and make up and the poor Diva sleeping in dozens of rollers most nights, were all ultimately worth it.

As I dressed Jewel for her first performance in Edmonds last week and walked her and her fellow cast mates backstage to wait in the wings for that beautiful Tchaikovsky score to commence, she looked at me, gave me the thumbs up and walked on stage, with those pretty curls bouncing behind her and never looked back. I took a sharp intake of breath as the lights hit her pretty blonde curls and, as she danced so sweetly, I was overcome with pride.

And I thought - you know what? It was all worth it!

That said.. next year... I think she'd make a fab soldier - they wear a helmet!

I Believe in Father Christmas..

2009-12-02T11:07:00.000-08:00

Last week, while picking up my favourite Starbucks' Holiday themed beverage of choice this time of year, a Peppermint Mocha, the sweet Barista passed me a free CD: "All you Need is Love". Yes, I had managed to spend a tidy sum on a drive thru' run with the kids and was entitled to benefit from the latest marketing ploy of the sweet ol' Mermaid, which is by spending over $15 on their over priced beverages, I had donated $1 to the Global Fund and could have a free (RED)™ CD of exclusive tracks by U2, Dave Matthews Band, John Legend and a mixed band of singers, who somehow manage to 'kill' the title track of "All You Need is Love".

Jewel and Schyler asked me to play the CD in the car on the drive home and so we listened to the four (yes, a "generous" four) tracks. When U2's "I Believe in Father Christmas" track came on, I smiled and got very nostalgic about my childhood Christmases. The original song by Greg Lake had been a huge hit when I was a kid and was played every Christmas as part of the season's annual soundtrack (that and Slade's "Merry Christmas Everybody"- relentlessly....!) It remains a favourite Holiday song, now that I'm in my forties.

It's funny because now we can Google anything; we get instant gratification thanks to iTunes and more importantly we can really dissect lyrics by downloading them from the Internet and as I sung along to the U2's cover of a much loved song, the realization hit me that the song was far from a happy Xmas song of my childhood, but rather cynical and with two children, still loving the spirit of the Holidays (Santa et al...) I was not about to enlighten them, so changed the track to the more reliable Dave Matthews!

But it made me think how terribly innocent we were back then. I was probably around twelve or thirteen years old when the song "I Believe in Father Christmas" was released. I've no doubt I'd long figured out certain truths about the day itself but I was much less cognizant of any other messages within that song. Jewel is nine and I know that when she is twelve, she will be way more sophisticated than I was at the same age. I know she'll have a greater awareness of the world around her, but sadly she'll also be aware of the less pleasant things in life. At nine, she already has way too much knowledge about how drugs can devastate a family and that sometimes good people do bad things. At twelve, I still played with dolls and remained resolutely clueless about the world outside my bedroom door and you know what, perhaps that was a good thing?

So I wish you a Merry Christmas ~ I wish you Happy Holidays ~ I wish you a Happy Chanukah ~ I wish you a Happy Kwanzaa!

But more importantly I wish you whatever you wish yourself this season.

And I think I do still believe in Father Christmas....

Making Traditions..

2009-12-01T10:30:00.001-08:00

We had a spiffy and fun-filled Thanksgiving again this year. Thanks in part to our dear friends and neighbours, The Wilkies...

It's funny because even though I've lived in the USA almost twelve years, I've never been too much bothered by Thanksgiving. I mean, I didn't celebrate too many Thanksgivings in jolly ol' England now did I?!!

Thanksgiving always feels like a pause before the craziness of the month of December and Christmas madness (though who am I kidding - our nearest Hallmark store had Xmas cards appearing on their shelves at the beginning of October!) Regardless, the Holiday has never stressed me out and this year we opted to have the most stress free Holiday of all by buying our turkey dinner ready cooked and prepped from our local PCC (a local natural supermarket) in advance of the day.

So stress free, I popped into the supermarket the day before to pick up our turkey dinner box and was met by a couple of harassed staff, who were dealing with an equally harassed customer, who was pulling her box apart and removing the contents one by one, apparently unimpressed by the NASA-looking vacuumed packed bags of mashed potatoes, gravy and cranberry relish etc. I happily picked up my box, paid for the goodies and looked forward to a stress free Thanksgiving Day.

And stress-free it was.

We sat around almost all day twiddling our thumbs! No need to get up at the crack of dawn and prep and roast the turkey. No peeling vegetables, prepping stuffing or decimating the kitchen and yet, we were..um kind of bored! Ha! I guess the chaos is very much a part of the Turkey Day and we kind of missed it as re-heating all those bags and pre-cooked turkey means you condense the stress into one chaotic hour instead!

That said we enjoyed a lovely evening with the Wilkies and ate till we were stuffed. Good conversation and good fun, culminating in our now annual tradition of going downtown to watch the tree lighting and fireworks the day after Thanksgiving; sipping warm hot chocolate with sprinkles and eating divine cookies at The Mayflower, followed by dinner with friends at the Irish pub, Kell's in Pike Place Market. Bless Seattle - it somehow rises to the occasion and creates wonderful memories and new traditions in the process, even for this English gal....

Happy Holidays...!

Jewel and Schyler at The Mayflower Hotel, November 27th, 2009

.......

2009-11-20T12:32:00.000-08:00

Yeah.. well, so much for good intentions.....

I so wanted to blog about the chronicles of the LaMarrs and spare you that photo of some strange demented woman, who has resided upon my front page these last few months. But ironically, she has captured well my mood for much of this year.

Oh there's been birthdays, anniversaries, parties, day trips, fun times; but then I was having too much fun to write about those moments...

Then there's been struggles, pain and heartbreak and guess what? Didn't want to write about those either!

It's a long story....

Yesterday I sat in court to watch my eldest child get a second chance. It doesn't really matter why he was there, only that he was and the journey to this point has been difficult, long and heartbreakingly painful, not to mention decimated a few hopes and dreams along the way.

There is no textbook for parenthood, which is probably a blessing 'cause who would sign up for this "job" if there were? As parents we all set out with the very best intentions and expectations and the ultimate objective to get our kids to adult hood and share their triumphs (and sometimes disappointments) along this remarkable journey called life.

Life has a habit of not following the script-throwing us the odd curve ball and yet we deal, learn from it (one hopes) and move on. Frankly, I wouldn't have my life any other way; one appreciates the sunshine so much more after the rain, the calm after the bad storm...it's what makes life worth living, but I would, if I could, trade the last few months and the difficult ones that are sure to lay ahead as we navigate this new "normal" in our family life.

So I'm still waving not drowning; thrown a life line by a compassionate Judge and the support of dear friends (and probably way too many alcoholic beverages!) Spent way too many sleepless nights worrying, stressing and crying, downloading appropriately depressing songs on iTunes for my life's current soundtrack! (Dang, what was life like before iTunes?!! ) and just treading water..

Anyway, here's one song that sustained me these past few months and it's for you my eldest son; you are loved and we are still waving...just

Mum xoxo

Wild Horses~Rolling Stones

Childhood living is easy to do
The things you wanted I bought them for you
Graceless lady you know who I am
You know I can't let you slide through my hands

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses, couldn't drag me away

I watched you suffer a dull aching pain
Now you decided to show me the same
No sweeping exits or offstage lines
Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses, couldn't drag me away

I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie
I have my freedom but I don't have much time
Faith has been broken, tears must be cried
Let's do some living after we die

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them some day

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them some day

Mama Tantrum...

2009-04-16T17:46:00.001-07:00

I felt a strong urge to blog yesterday about a particularly inglorious day in the land of motherhood. From the moment the kids got up yesterday they were horrible... (no.. that's a little harsh, let's just say UNBEARABLE.. there that covers it!) Fortunately, I chose not to post about my little momma tantrum yesterday because if the kids had got to read my ramblings ten years from now, they would think their mother was a raving lunatic.. Parenthood is always challenging and the poor love bugs never asked to be born, but just some days...blah..

My late mum would laugh about at this, but I've managed to produce three night owls, which means getting up in the morning is like pulling teeth. Granted, I am NO morning person but as I've matured I figured out that you need to get out bed; get dressed and get to the place you are supposed to be, be that school, work or in my husband's case, to Facebook, preferably ON TIME! So in my defense, *every* morning has been an almost identical Groundhog day and yesterday was the final straw.

Actually to be fair to the eldest child, Alex is on is own now in the mornings as he attends college having found an "alternative" way to get his high school diploma (Dang, that boy could take up some serious 'ink' and have a blog written just for his shenanigans.. but I digress..)

Jewel and Schyler started their day screaming at each other, kicking each other and turning the morning into chaos. It seems a monumental task to frog march them through their now established daily routine and get them out the door and into the car. That morning, they were particularly obnoxious as I told them (ok.. barked at them) to get into the car as I ran upstairs to grab my phone and some papers. I threw my PTA board stuff into a bag, stumbled down the stairs and climbed into the car to silence.... Wow! So thinking they are in pensive and deep thought about their ghastly behaviour, I turn around to see that their car seats are empty. Eh? I run into the street - nothing - back in the house, call their names - nothing and just as I go into panic mode, my sweet neighbour phones to tell me that the kids were somewhat confused and turned up at her house for their morning ride to school. I was so mad with them I began to steam and sensing I might pulverize them, she thoughtfully told me that she was all set and would take them to school, while I simmered all the way to same said school for a PTA Board meeting (Note: thank you Katie for saving my kids from a dreaded tongue lashing)

At pick up time, I stupidly tried to rehash that morning's events (never a good idea) and discuss what had transpired. From the moment Jewel got into the car, they both ramped up again and before we even hit the gate of the parking lot had resumed their battles.

In writing this now, it seems so inconsequential and yet I seriously thought I was losing my mind, not helped by a looming court appearance at the Juvenile Court tomorrow for Alex's unexcused absences at his high school, which has been preying on my mind ever since we received the curt letter (which, just to labour the point, they mailed to us FOUR times!) Selfishly, I'm mad because it feels more like a testament of my inept parenting skills than a willful stubborn teenager who refused to attend his classes at high school when he knew he'd be leaving at the end of the semester.

As I pulled the car into our garage, I told the kids to get out and sent them to the neighborhood park to burn off some excess energy. Then I sat there alone in the car, closed my eyes and cried. The car was so silent in the garage and so wonderful that I'm contemplating using it as a hiding place from the chaos in future! I sat there for what seemed ages, but probably no more than ten minutes and allowed myself to just be.

It is times like this that I wish for wise words of wisdom from my mum; a place for me to vent and get some perspective on child rearing but alas I've no one like that to offer counsel. I have always assumed I was a text book child for my mother but I'm sure she would enlighten me otherwise! So there I sat in deep contemplation and then I opened my eyes and looked around the garage at the remnants of family life that surrounded me; the kids art work, school craft projects, Xmas decorations, bikes and scooters, boxes of old photos, etc., and I smiled, breathed in and exhaled.... it's all good I thought and this too shall pass.. (well until the next mama meltdown...)

Caron

2009-04-13T11:14:00.001-07:00

5th October 1962 ~ 13 April 2004

Easter RAINday..

2009-04-12T20:27:00.000-07:00

I think this might be the second year the annual Easter egg hunt has been rained off, though I recall the neighbourhood kids finding treats in our housing track playground last year, albeit dressed up in warm coats, but this year it was a bust as it rained cats and dogs *all* day.

It's an ongoing joke about Seattle and its rain and while I was born in another rainy city (London) I don't think I remember it being so constantly wet during spring time (Scotland maybe, but not London) It gets very wearing after a while, particularly after an extremely harsh winter, so as usual we had to come up with a Plan B for the annual Easter egg hunt...

Still.. negativity aside...

Rain may have stopped play, but the kids had a blast as the "Easter bunny" left trails of jelly beans which led to hidden treasures of delight; namely a chocolate paradise all over our house. I could watch their little enjoyment from the comfort of the sofa and try to remember Easter Sunday childhood memories of my own. As I get older, I'm losing the ability to remember the traditions I had as a child and with my sweet parents no longer alive, unable to ask them what we did to celebrate the season. I do remember waking to freshly toasted hot cross buns on Good Friday morning and preceding that, pancakes (crepes) on Shrove Tuesday but Easter Sunday? I don't remember any egg hunt.

I'm sure Easter Sunday was usually a typical Sunday lunch, which would be a roasted spring lamb or even a turkey, then off to Sunday school and finding out which friends secured more chocolate loot than I did, but how my family actually celebrated Easter together, alas I can't remember as my dingy brain lets me down. So we make new memories with the kids as they picked up every single jelly bean, chocolate egg into their cute easter baskets. Darren bought a huge ham at the Farmers Market last weekend and did a fabulous job cooking it. I'm not a fan of cooked ham, if I'm honest, but he cooked our Easter meal with such love and thoughtfulness that it could not have tasted better.

The day ended with a rare break in the cloud and a short glimpse of sunshine as the kids burned off their excess energy on their bikes and scooters (and one scraped knee for Miss Jewel) and it made me reflect that rain or shine, Easter memories are special.

Happy Easter folks...!!

Snippets of Family Life ~ Sunday

2009-03-01T10:16:00.000-08:00

Schyler has an imaginary friend, who coincidentally is called "schyler", so I asked today how his friend was doing:

"So where is "schyler" today?"

"He is on a vacation"

"Really, where did he go?"

"He has gone to Hawaii"

"Really, why did he go there?"

"He really really really loves coconuts and wanted some privacy, so that's why I didn't go with him...."

Good call...

You know it's the third child born in the family.....

2009-02-28T15:34:00.000-08:00

....when you don't change your plans for a girls night out and your youngest son goes off to spend his Friday night in ER!

I had a fun night with girl-friends Friday at a client's "Go Red" Ladies Night fund raising event, painting pottery pieces, eating appetizers and sipping red wine, while I got text updates on Schyler sitting at Children's Hospital for four plus hours. I'm sure some of the moms present at the pottery studio were a little shocked at my priorities; after all, should I have not dropped everything and run to be at my child's bedside, even though he was in the capable and loving hands of his Daddy?

However, let me get straight to the point. I do need to state that everything turned out fine. The diagnosis? Constipation.... bring on the apple juice and chocolate covered raisins from the Wilkinson's and we're all set! Still, when I woke up this morning with Schyler scrambling over the comforter to join us for our Saturday morning cuddle, I thought.. dang it, did I do the right thing?

Actually, I believe I did do the right thing, but still there's a certain societal expectation of mothers that it is they who soothe their child in such circumstances; they who take the kids to all the doctor appointments, attend all the school functions, volunteer in their classrooms and help them with their school work. We mothers cheer the loudest when our children succeed and are ready to wipe their tears when they don't.

I might add I married Darren who is more "mister mom" than Dad. He is a Dad that makes the cookies and birthday cakes in this house; the weekend breakfast chef and hands on with the kids and so I don't think for one minute he felt overwhelmed that he could not handle Schyler last night; nor did my girl friends who reassured me they knew Schy was fine and should not cancel our girls night out, but yet I did feel a little guilty when this morning I viewed the photos of Schyler which "proud" Dad posted on his Facebook site of the little guy waiting on a hospital gurney.

Whether Schyler will read this blog post as an adult and go: "Geez mum, thanks for nothing" and somehow the whole episode will reappear in a regression therapy session with his Psychiatrist (by then, I'm sure as common place as going for a pedicure!) who knows? But I will tell him this, that to fart away your pain is a beautiful thing, even for a $125 hospital insurance co-pay!

It's not the winning; it's the taking part....

2009-02-26T16:09:00.001-08:00

(Copyright: Getty Images)

So Kate Winslet finally won a coveted Oscar for Best Actress after six previously unsuccessful nominations. Good Job Kate! This Brit was very delighted by your success!

I didn't catch the Oscars this past weekend as Sunday nights in the LaMarr household are usually fraught with getting last minute school projects finished and prepping for the school week ahead, but when Darren caught on the Internet that she had won, I was tickled pink for her and thanks to videos on the Internet, saw her sweet acceptance speech; a speech which was decidedly less hysterical than the ones she demonstrated on her double whammy Golden Globes win the weekend before and by which she was pulverised by the British tabloid press.

Then the next day, I read on the wires the reaction of the British media and true to form, rather than celebrating one of our own's amazing accomplishment in winning the Best Actress Oscar, the tabloid press were once again less than complimentary because God knows we don't like a success story; it's not the winning but the taking part mantra us Brits subscribe to and let us celebrate mediocrity instead, hence our love affair with talentless folk like Posh Spice and reality TV stars.

It's a well known British disease where we take great delight in building people up and then pulling them to pieces when they rise above our own expectations of them. When Katie Winslet had the nerve to call the British media on this uniquely British trait, she was again mocked in the press as being smug and arrogant, which is ironic considering this is the very same trait the British tabloid press embraces so well.

Now living in America I try to recognise my own kids' accomplishments and that of friends and family but I still struggle to ever acknowledge my own successes, choosing to downplay any I might have (if indeed I do?) It's a cultural thing! A old school friend back in England finally said to me recently; "You were always a success - everything you turned your hand to, you always gave 100% and did well." Really? I was stunned because us Brits don't talk like that - we don't dwell on our successes, we are far more comfortable bemoaning our lot in life and rarely hand out praise even when it's due. When I took the Oxbridge Examination at 17 while doing my "A" levels, I remember my mum asking me why on earth would I want to go to Oxford or Cambridge? Rather than seeing it as successful thing to aspire to, she thought it would be a colossal waste of my time, in other words "getting ideas above your station." (And no, I did not go to university; Oxford or otherwise, as a result!)

So Kate, congratulations on getting two Golden Globes and one very worthy Oscar for your fine acting skills - This Brit is bloody proud of you!

Oh and here's another little dictum in life you might want to subscribe to:

Winning isn’t everything; it’s the only thing.... ha!

Divas and D(io)ramas...

2009-02-22T19:47:00.000-08:00

Jewel came kicking and screaming into this world on April 28th, 2000. One of those millennium babies whose entrance into this fine world was not without a whole lot of pain and drama...

I seem to recall (though forgive me, my memory is sketchy on what was day 3 of a three day labour!) one of the doctors physically kneeling on my chest as though he was trying to squeeze the last drop of toothpaste out of the tube as they vainly tried to help push Jewel into the big wide world - she's been tardy ever since.

Jewel is the ballerina of the family; she adores watching ballet performances and during this past Holiday season, enjoyed being part of an actual semi-professional ballet company. She had two parts in The Olympic Ballet's "The Nutcracker" season during the worse winter storms Seattle had ever seen. The mantra "the show must go on" was not lost on Jewel's ballet director as we risked the icy and snow drift blocked roads to get to the many rehearsals and performances, usually with half empty seats. She was rewarded for all the weeks of hard work when I took her to see the Pacific Northwest Ballet Xmas Eve performance of their "Nutcracker" in downtown Seattle. Jewel had an incredible time but after the encores stated quite directly: "I think our Nutcracker was so much better mummy"
(Note to self: Remind me to not drop $100 next year on the PNB's classic version of The Nutcracker!)

Jewel is not my first born child, she's my second and when you have a son first, you can't imagine how to care for a daughter, which is ironic really seeing as I'm a girl too! Jewel always smiled and was a very happy baby and thanks to some beautiful hand me downs from my friend in England, was also the best dressed. She looks like me, she has blondish hair and big brown eyes and loves her daddy with a passion - yep, just like I did. I love ballet with a passion too, but like most things Jewel does, she does them better than me (of course..)

Today, we had to complete one of those school projects, which necessitates a trip to an art store, where you sink $40 to make a shoe box look like, well - a shoe box. These works of art are called dioramas and I've lost count of how many I've made with the kids over the years. The project was to make a clay model of a crayfish (or craw fish as my sweet Southern friend El would say) and for extra credit, one could also make the habitat as a diorama and being Jewel, she wanted to do *everything* and so we spent today creating her latest masterpiece while mum, who is currently suffering from walking pneumonia, choked on the rubber cement fumes.

The final masterpiece with neon pink crayfish!

There's so much more to write about each of the kids but I'll stop here, because for me to write three posts in ONE day is surely a record, when my blogging history is to barely manage three a month (no make that in a given year); I fear I must rest from the shock of it all....

Eventually, I'll introduce all three kids - my wayward teen, more on the diva daughter and my sweet, sensitive youngest boy, all of whom rock my world..

Later...

Credit where credit is due..

2009-02-22T14:42:00.000-08:00

I cannot claim fame for the new blog template design that you are now viewing. Credit must go to the fabulous and uber-talented 2 moms at:

The Cutest Blog on The Block...

What's more, their templates are free (though a nice donation c/o paypal would go along way to keep these two moms designing more fab templates, all for the princely sum of ZERO dollars!)

I did create the banner narrative myself but thanks to a nice easy template to follow from the site and good old Photoshop to make it pretty.

So thank you Cutest Blog on the Block! I'm hoping the pretty new blog template will inspire me to be a little more creative too...

Blogging?

2009-02-22T13:25:00.000-08:00

I don't quite know what happened to my other blog, Life on Mars - it started out as a place for my muddled musings but in time became a place to simply vent or moan (or whinge as us Brits are famed to do - often) It also became a chore. I no longer look forward to writing in it; in fact the only time I clicked on the darn thing, was to use the links on the front page to read my friends' blogs, which were always so much more interesting and fun to read.

Last year I complied a compilation of blogs posts composed by my dear friend Katie for her birthday. It was fun to make as indeed was incredibly interesting to read - there were far too many stories to include, but each blog post captured a moment in time of a year full of love and living. I made two books, one for each daughter to ultimately (I presume) become a legacy Katie can leave her sweet daughters when they too are mothers enjoying this roller coaster ride of motherhood.

And then I thought what would my children do if by chance they came across my blog; what memories would it leave them with, other than the impression that mom liked to write albeit infrequently, but only if she was pissed, angry or in one of those "funks" ... not much of legacy to leave them.

So inspired by "Smile Lines" (do read it if you get a chance - Smile Lines) that chronicles just the day to day living, loving and sometimes challenges of family life) here is my humble offering... Life on Mars? Perhaps time to come down to earth and live a little..

Welcome to The Chronicles of Chez LaMarr....

Enjoy..