For those who are curious about BITCHmom... Here is the whole story.

    Now, why is the ex-crack head BITCHmom mad at me?  I'll tell you!  When the weather got nice last spring (May 2011), I let Mr.N run out back after dumping his backpack off in our house.  I TRUSTED HIM!  I had to walk out to his bus in front of our house and before I could stop him?  He was running out our back patio door to see Mr.A (his classmate) get off the bus too.  EVERYTIME that I ran out back after him, I explained to Mrs.M & Ms.A that I DID NOT expect them to watch after my child and they blew me off saying, “NO! We weren’t thinking that!”  That put my mind at ease.  Here are two women thinking my child was fine, running out of our back door without putting some BIG judgment on ME!

***this will become a BIG footnote later***

    We live in an apartment community and our back porch area leads into a big courtyard area surrounded by buildings that are all part of our quaint little apartment community.  So this became our routine, I would get Mr.N off the bus out front and he would run out the back patio door to see Mr.A.  One day, a woman started walking up to my patio door as I was getting ready to join Mr.N out back.   She said, "I'm sorry but your son knocked & we let him into our house and we were worried him.”  I profusely apologized.  This woman said that my son told her that "My mom is OK. She knows I'm OK but my dad is dead."  I explained to her that "YES, my son thinks his dad is dead, but he doesn't know any better.  One day he came up with that part about his dad all on his own and it breaks my heart to tell him the truth right now but I'll tell him that it is NOT ok to come into someone else's house, even if they let him in."  *Why she thought it was ok at this point, I’ll never know.  I would NEVER allow a child that I didn’t know to come into my house until I talked to their mom or dad.*   Mr.N didn't listen unfortunately.  A couple days later, after I had let Mr.N run out the back door against my better judgment, I saw the "dad" walking up to my back door.  I apologized profusely again and at this point, I told Mr.N to get in OUR house and I would never ever tolerate him going into ANYONE'S house ever again that he wasn't directly related to.  He was CRUSHED that on a beautiful day with oodles of kids outside, he was forced to stay inside for the remainder of that beautiful day and evening.  Mr.N listened to me after that terrible day that he had to stay inside…  He NEVER again went into BITCHmom’s house.  However, little did I know, BITCHmom’s opinion of me was sealed up for all eternity!  BITCHmom thought I was the worst mom in the world and even though she didn't really know me....  the fact that my child willing & naively went in to her house without ME?!?  I WAS A BAD BAD BAD MOM! 

    It's really too bad that #BITCHmom wants to judge me when she applied for "public assistance" (aka... WELFARE) and the State turned her down because she would not allow a paternity test on the man she called the father of her 1st born.  *DARN welfare people!  I guess they want proof, humph!* Ms.A told me all of this to make me feel better about BITCHmom’s disdain for me.  Ms.A (soon to be known as #DOUCHEmom) assured me that #BITCHmom was just a very unhappy person; she explained the many nights that #BITCHmom and her boyfriend had terrible fights in front of the baby.  Ms.A would welcome #BITCHmom into her house only to have the fight move INTO her house when the boyfriend showed up to coax #BITCHmom home.  *POOR DUDE!  I feel sorry for him because he seems like a nice enough guy* Ms.A went on to explain that #BITCHmom was an ex-crackhead…  OMG!!! WHAT?!?  

    This explained everything to me!  This was a bitter angry woman who was either dealt a shitty ass life or made it for herself, and if she wanted to hate me over something so fucking petty?  In my mind I decided to steer clear of her, let my son play with his friends because the ex-crackhead was pregnant again and clearly an unstable person.  Ms.A told me that #BITCHmom didn't even WANT to be pregnant... Ms.A said #BITCHmom said things like, "I fucking hate that I'm pregnant again." & "I never wanted this to happen again but "it" did so, 'Oh well!'"  I thought Ms.A & Mrs.M clearly had “my back.” since they told me such terrible things about #BITCHmom.  I considered them friends, since our boys were friends so #BITCHmom could keep her kid shut up in the house (which Ms.A & Mrs.M said was just terrible for a boy that age to be stuck in the house all the time) and we could simply enjoy each other’s company.  As much as I tried to stay away from BITCHmom there were occasional run-ins.  I was sitting outside one day with Mr.N when she came home from work.  Her passive aggressive jabs were SO fucking annoying!  But I decided that I was the better person here and no matter what, I would keep my mouth shut.

BITCHmom: Why are you sitting HERE (somewhat close proximity to her place)

Me: because it’s shady over here.

BITCHmom: *crinks her neck so she’s looking at my back porch and says* Gee!  It looks like there’s plenty of shade over there. 

WTF!  She thinks she subtly told me to go the fuck home, when it would have been funnier if she would have said “GO THE FUCK HOME!”  I would’ve LMFAO if she had.  :D

    I dealt with her bullshit silently for months.  Every jab she threw at me I silently took so I could take the high road knowing you’ll never get anywhere with a bitter & hateful ex-crackhead.  One day I confided with Ms.A.  I told her how I was SO sick of BITCHmom’s hateful comments, bitter ass attitude & overall unhappy demeanor.  Ms.A spilled everything that BITCHmom said about me in the recent days.  I already knew she hated me but Ms.A just confirmed it all in a clear form and not by stupid & spiteful comments.  Ms.A again explained that BITCHmom was an unhappy person and I wasn’t supposed to take any of her shit to heart.

**Fast forward through the whole winter, a glorious winter free of BITCHmom.  I started back at college in January, ready to start my new life.  A life where I would make things better for me and my son where the end result, after everything I’d been through would FINALLY result in a career and a real life for me & Mr.N**  

Unfortunately, in a way, we had an early spring.

    BITCHmom had her baby sometime during the winter.  I don’t actually care when but I assumed her baby was small enough that I wouldn’t have to deal with her bullshit for a while.  Mr.N played with his friends and had a great time.  I caught up with Ms.A & Mrs.M after being cooped up, it was very nice.  Until BITCHmom decided it was time to emerge from her hibernation.  One day when I saw a brother & sister playing near, but not with my son and his friends, I asked their mom if I could bring them over by the other 5 kids playing.  She said SURE!  I coaxed the pair to come over.  These two are funny, they find the oddest times to become shy.  I told them, "Come on guys!  You know everyone here.  There's no need to be shy!"  

BITCHmom then says: "Oh no no no. There's enough kids over here playing right now.  You two should stay by your own house."  I AM SO FUCKING ASTONISHED AT HER PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE BULLSHIT that with my jaw still appallingly dropped, I take the brother and sister turn them around and start walking back to their porch area.  I then tell Nik to come with as well.  I fucking don't want him NEAR anyone who fucking hates me so much that she'll dismiss children from playing simply because it was my idea to bring them over.

    2 weeks later, Mr.N & I get home from school & I see BITCHmom and her 3 yr old playing at our apartment complex’s sorry excuse for a playground.  Since I see NO other kids around, I firmly tell Mr.N that he is to go NO where NEAR the yellow slide.  He's not happy about this but I tell him.  "She hates your mama.  I don't want you by her.  That's it!"  Of course when I go outside 5 mins later he is at the yellow slide. *Grrrrr! He really listens well* I yell to Mr.N, “Come back home buddy!”  *Not crazy mad like I felt… don’t need to give her anymore reason to falsely accuse me of being the world’s worst mom, but honestly here, I could say what I wanted because my child directly disobeyed me.*

BITCHmom says "No!  He's fine over here."

Me: NO. He was told specifically NOT to go over there. 

    We're at least 50 feet from each other so as she starts bitching, I'm just barking commands at Nik so it seems like I'm not hearing a word of her rant.  It was something about me being a bad mom for telling MY child that someone (her) hated ME.  That was the jist anyway.  I take Mr.N inside, lock my patio door and shut the blinds 90 %.  I want NO interaction with this person.  I wish she'd grow the fuck up but since I can't make her do that?  Then DON'T TALK TO ME!  Easy peezzy right?  WRONG!  BITCHmom decides she needs to come up to MY patio door & have 3 yr old knock on the glass *I've had a pet peeve about this FOR YEARS a patio door is for friends only, if you're selling something, an acquaintance or in this case, SOMEONE WHO FUCKING HATES ME, YOU USE MY FRONT FUCKING DOOR!!!!  Well I drew the blinds enough so there's nothing making me open the door to this BITCHmom holding her 3 MONTH OLD BABY and her 3 year old.  I want NOTHING to do with her but the 12 year old in her wants to hash this out.  NOW WHAT?!?  I’LL TELL YOU FUCKING WHAT!  I BLOGGED ABOUT IT. 

I gave a condensed version of ALL of the above.  I hit all the main points but left out the disparaging points in her past that Ms.A filled me in on.  The fact that she’s an ex-crackhead didn’t have much to do with BASE facts of her insane hatred towards me and her actions to others. Soooooooooo…  I publish the blog the night that BITCHmom knocked on my patio door.  I then sent a text to Ms.A with the link  assuming that Ms.A was on my side, because that’s how she portrayed herself, I wanted her to know directly what went down earlier that evening.  Ms.A texts me back saying that she’s in fact at BITCHmom’s house & BITCHmom wants to talk to me. WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?!?  EXCUSE ME!?!  I could care fucking less if she was at BITCHmom’s house but I blog I sent her in confidence was put in front of BITCHmom by Ms.A who had been pretending to be my friend for how fucking long?!?  I literally had 30 seconds to pull all of the above together in my brain before *BOOM BOOM BOOM!* the knocking on my front door!  WTF AGAIN?!?  Not only did Ms.A betray me, she sent the lion off to the lamb well before she sent the text saying that BITCHmom wanted to “talk to me.”  I yelled through my door for her to go away. 

BITCHmom: I just want to talk to you! 

ME:  NO!  All you want is a confrontation that I refuse to give you. GO AWAY!

BITCHmom:  (Yelling now outside my door) FINE! I READ YOUR BLOG AND I DO THINK YOU’RE A BAD MOM AND I’M REPORTING YOU TO THE LANDLORD.

Since BITCHmom has now come to my house twice in one night I called the cops and explained EVERYTHING.  I was told by a policeman that this is the Internet, and as long as I do not post personal information (i.e. real name, last name & address) about her then I'm free to talk about her... All that I want!  I told him that, “NO!  I posted no names and my blog was anonymous.”  I remember scuffling my feet a little bit and saying, “To be honest with you, in the blog, I only referred to her as BITCHmom.”  The officer let a snicker slip and then said, “Well no one would be able to figure out who she was just by THAT.”  The officer said that he would tell her to leave me alone and that I under no means HAVE to open my door to ANYONE at ANYTIME and I did nothing wrong.  Ms.A didn’t answer my “phone call” TWICE but texted me a short time later asking if the cops had been “out back”?  I told her, “Yes!  I had no choice if BITCHmom thought she could keep trying to have a confrontation with me.”  Ms.A went on to tell me how much of an idiot I was, that ME and my CHILD were the REAL PROBLEMS, that BITCHmom wasn’t saying ANYTHING that EVERYONE already thought & NO ONE but BITCHmom was forward enough to say what EVERYONE was already wanting to say.  

WWWWWWHHHHHHHAAAAAAAATTTTTTTT?!?  

    My world was turned upside down!  Really?  All these people fucking hate me and I didn’t fucking know it?  How in the hell could I be SO wrong about people and how they felt about me?  My head was spinning.  I called the mom of the two kids that BITCHmom had sent away that one day when she was acting like the Queen of the Fucking Courtyard.  I was sobbing at this point.  I incoherently told her the story of the night’s events.  She calmed me down saying that Ms.A probably didn’t mean it, she would come around later and there was NO way that Ms.A meant what she said.  Even though I didn’t believe her she did a good job of making me feel better and then she said that even if Ms.A meant what she said there was NO WAY Mrs.M felt the same way.  I sent a message to Mrs.M and she said that she really didn’t know what was going on but she didn’t feel the same way that Ms.A & BITCHmom did.  She said that everyone has things that bug them about everyone.  There were things that bugged her where I was concerned but there were things that bugged her as far as Ms.A was concerned as well but I was NOT the problem that Ms.A proclaimed me to be and if either of us were, she wouldn’t be friends with either of us.  If Ms.A thought she could rally EVERYONE in our area to HER and BITCHmom’s cause against me???  Well, she was shit out of fucking luck.  A day or two later I explained the predicament to another neighbor.  She told me that the “opinion of one is not the opinion of all” and left it at that.  A couple days later the neighbor told me that she flat out TOLD Ms.A “that the opinion of one is not the opinion of all” and as much as Ms.A protested, she simply said “the opinion of one is not the opinion of all”

*END OF STORY???  NOOOOOOOPE!*

BITCHmom was DETERMINED to get her confrontation!  As I was sitting playing with Mr.N, Mr.A & the new 3 year old that moved in, along with Mrs.M & the new mom that had NO idea what was going on, BITCHmom came home and even with her baby and toddler in the backseat, she came over to have her confrontation with me while I was sitting on the ground surrounded by pre-schoolers and unsuspecting moms. 

BITCHmom: blah, blah, blah, what are you doing over here?  You just expect these moms to look after your child without even asking? 

*BITCHmom doesn’t realize at this point that Mrs.M & Ms.A already told me that they didn’t have a problem with it.  Poor BITCHmom!  At this point she has egg on her face without even knowing it.  But since I STILL didn’t want to bring people into this arrogant argument without their consent? I would leave them out of it because of the respect that I had for THEM!*

ME:  Well the kids are playing so I don’t really see a problem.

BITCHmom:  Well if you’re gonna call the cops on me!!!  I think you should stay away.

ME:  Well, the cops said I was free to be wherever I wanted.  This is an apartment complex are we’re all free to be wherever we want.  You can’t tell me that I’m not allowed to be here.  They told ME that you weren’t supposed to talk to me again.

BITCHmom:  Well if you’re so threatened by me what are you doing here?

ME:  Again, they said I was free to go and be where I wanted.

BITCHmom:  Well!  If you’re over here clearly you aren’t threatened by ME!  Maybe I’M threatened by YOU!

ME:  Well I dunno but you’re the one standing over me while I’m sitting here on the ground, yelling at me in front of these kids that can hear everything…  Who’s being more threatening here?  Me or you?

BITCHmom: YEAH! Now who’s being passive aggressive?

ME:  I dunno, I’m still sitting here… on the ground so?

*BITCHmom mumbles something about being threatened and how SHE should call the cops right now, while she huffs and puffs and walks the FUCK away.  At least she finally got her toddler and infant out of her car*

The new mom told me, “She’s fricken scary!”  I told her, “Naw!  If you don’t cross her you’ll be just fine.  I was the one that didn’t put up with her bullshit.”  I sat my ground [instead of standing up] the whole time that BITCHmom was trying to provoke me.  I could have stood up and expressed my disgust with her but that’s what she wanted and I refused to give her the satisfaction.  Mr.N played outside even after Ms.A came home with her child.  I paid her NO MIND.  I was smug in the sense that her idiotic comrade had just made a complete ASS of herself just an hour earlier.  Mr.N played nicely with all his friends into the evening.  When we finally came in for the night I had to make dinner and then I had to do my dreaded homework.  I had a quiz and reading for sociology, a freewrite for my Rogerian Argument paper in my writing class & preparations for speech class.  Mr.N was in bed by 9pm and I was up until 11pm before my homework was finally finished.  I woke up at 4am to Mr.N coughing… HARD!  When I went into his room he said he was going to puke.  I said, “No honey!  You’re fine. It’s just…” [PUKE!]  I felt so bad!  I had no idea that he was that sick!  I put him in my bed and cleaned up his bed the best I could.  

I climbed in my bed with Mr.N and played a movie on the laptop.  I kept a bucket next to him as he was throwing up every hour until about noon.  At this point we finally both fell asleep for more than just the time between the pukes.  Around 2pm I got a text message from a neighbor saying that the cops were outside and they had just walked BITCHmom out of her apartment.  I asked him if she was cuffed and he said he couldn’t see.  After back and forth text messages of the events that were happening outside, he said she looked like a lunatic screaming at the cops about how her tires were slashed and it HAD to be [ME].  At this point, I was ready to leap out of bed and make myself somewhat presentable to the police that were obviously going to show up at my door, seeing that BITCHmom named me in her tire-slashing incident.  Even though my house smelled like puke, I was going to welcome ANY person in who thought I could possibly do such a stupid thing.  But they never came, I guess karma can work as long as you sit back and let it happen.  (Unfortunately crap like this happens all the time around here.  For fun last summer a kid burned down a port-a-potty right across the street at the high school.  The little punk didn’t realize that there was a security camera aimed right at the spot of the crime.)  The neighbor who was texting me said the police had left and more than 20 minutes later, there was no knock on my door.  Mr.N & I stayed in that evening because we were exhausted.  I went to school the next day and even though Mrs.M said she KNEW it couldn’t be me that slashed BITCHmom’s tire…  Ever since, she sits on the lawn chairs that I used to sit on with her and Ms.A.  She completely ignores me now, not caring that I considered her a friend.  Even though Ms.A (who I now refer to as DOUCHEmom) has said some awful things about Mrs.M in the past I’ve still been able to keep them to myself, mainly because I don’t want to hurt Mrs.M’s feelings.  I wish had people that were willing to do something like that for me.

There is ONE rule that I can teach my child and that is respect.  I am sick and tired of adults that do not share my same resolve.  You can tell a child over and over to respect their elders but if you don’t implement it yourself???  Your child never will either.

I'M NOT WORTHY!

I was nominated for the above award in this blog. *CLICK HERE TO READ*

I’m not worthy to be picked out by a mom such as this and even though I posted it as a comment on her blog, I can elaborate better than a mere comment.

Mr.N had a speech delay.  He didn’t say his very 1st word until he was 26 months old.   Everything before he was 2 is a hazy mess.  I spent the 1st year of his life trying to wrangle an alcoholic sociopath and raise an infant.  When said sociopath (bob) walked out on us, Mr.N was 10 months old.  I was so freaking scared of the future that I was lucky we made it day by day.  There were promises for the next year that bob was SO over the tramp he left us for that at least every 3 months, I was given assurances from him that we were going to again be a family, very soon.  Looking back I realize it was a tactic of his control.  He was able to do it even after the fucker left us!  I also realize that it was a shitty ass way to live my life.  The very memory of how I lived my life the year following his departure is pathetic and embarrassing!  But like any traumatic event I eventually got over this too and I was stronger for it. 

There had been murmurs at doctor’s visits about the lack of speech developing with Mr.N but I was a 1st time mother (without her own mother around to consult) raised by a very old-school type family and we all believed that there was absolutely nothing wrong with a 2 year old that didn’t speak… yet.  I got Mr.N into day care and started volunteering at the local animal shelter.  It was his day care mom who finally raised a bigger red flag than anyone else could.  I told her that I didn’t have a problem with him not talking yet but she persisted until she wore me down and she got me in touch with people in our area who would meet with him at day care twice a month with one in-home visit.  This I could handle.  I took a very “hands-off” approach with his treatment.  I technically wasn’t acknowledging that my child had a problem, just letting them do what they wanted because it certainly wasn’t going to hurt anything. 

After almost a year in day care, I finally got my first job since before Mr.N was born!  I was OVER-THE-MOON HAPPY!  My start date was to be 08/26/2008, exactly two years TO THE DAY that bob left our home.  Now THIS had to be a sign!  I was told that Mr.N would be out of the Birth-3 program and eligible for the special needs pre-school.  I’m starting a new job… Mr.N would have SCHOOL?!?  With busing to and from school and day care?!?  Who was I to judge if it was "special-needs" this was a single mom’s dream come true, until they started “hinting.”

In May of 2009 the teachers at my son’s pre-school diagnosed him as autistic.  They had been “pussy-footing” around the A-word (as I called it) since November of 2008.  I’m not an idiot!  They would say that he had this characteristic and that characteristic, all of which I knew were “characteristics” of autism, without ever saying the actual word until his 1st year of school was almost over.  I thought his life WAS OVER!  I was really dumb looking back but you have to remember this was 3 years ago, I didn't know any better.  After I was done crying, I slammed my hands on the table and said, "OK! Let's do this thing! When do we test him?"  They applauded my 'take charge attitude' and then said they would test him in the fall. IT WAS MAY FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! They actually expected me to spend the WHOLE summer wondering and worrying!  I got home, called our physician and after a couple weeks and some referrals we had our screening appt. The clinic confirmed what I sort of suspected all along. To quote the doctor, "He has 'personality quirks' I'll give you that, but it's not autism." I came to find out that my son's pre-school gets extra state funding for students they deem "autistic." I have SO much respect for parents of autistic children and feel ashamed that my son's school thought it was ok to corral me in with an ELITE group of parents.

Today Mr.N is STILL obsessed with vacuum cleaners as he was when he was 3.  He knows the difference between a Dyson DC-10 and the Dyson Ball.  He knows what features are on the Hoover Wind Tunnel, Eureka The Boss & everything in between.  He knows that James Spangler invented the Hoover & James Dyson invented the Dyson.  The only difference between then and now is that vacuums are no longer his one and only key interest.  Mr.N knows all the names of the trains on Thomas & Friends, the names of all the Transformers and whether they’re an Autobot or a Decepticon. 

I'm thrilled by this KUDDOS for my blog.  I started this as a type of "documented closure" on a HUGE chapter in my life at the start of a HUGE new chapter in which I'm starting college again with the knowledge that this time, for me and my child, I WILL FINISH!

Screw Unicorns & Rainbows! I’m going to talk about what I really want to… Part Deux

So, things came to a bitter end with my college roommates, when they were sick of me continuing a relationship with BOB and decided to force me to move out, they really didn't have means besides saying:  “We don’t like her boyfriend.”  That’s when I confided in my Sister and Brother-in-law over the money that my roommates were saying I owed them, my Sister and her husband stood up for me.  They wanted “black & white” proof, actual utility bills and letters from the landlord.  When my roommates couldn't provide this to my brother-in-law…  He told me to go to my room, get what I needed because he was taking me out of there RIGHT NOW!  I remember gathering my things and looking at my brother-in-law in the living room staring at my roommates like, “Don’t you dare try and come at me NOW.”  They all sat like little children, not saying ANYTHING in front of him, they had stopped playing the video games they were playing before he walked in, because my brother-in-law was standing in front of my TV that they were looking at now.   When the 4 guys tried to protest to my brother-in-law about how I had done them wrong, He told them to shut the f**k up!  He had shown that he was willing to defend me no matter what because he was married to my sister.

Within the next week, I took out the cash value on my life insurance policy in January 2005.  I moved in with BOB against my sister’s best wishes and I gave BOB my $900 cash to make sure that BOB wasn't evicted from his apartment.  After I was all moved in and penniless BOB informed me that he had a girlfriend and they had been dating for about two months.  This wasn't even the same girl that had threatened me back in November.  I was officially trapped.  No money, unable to run back to my sister’s (that ship had obviously sailed) and in about 2 weeks….  I was going to find out I was pregnant.

This story is exhausting.  I CANNOT WAIT until I conclude it on this blog so I can start writing about funny shit and other useless knowledge tidbits that make me truly HAPPY!

I Am NOT a Bible Thumper But...

We had to do a “This I believe” essay for school.  For me the easiest topic to write about would be faith & God.  So if you think about it you’d want to write something that came to you easy.  Side note, I LOVE ATHEISTS!  They fascinate me because we’re so different.  I have a friend on facebook who practically calls me a blind following nutjob (he’s not that blunt of course but I have a feeling that that’s what he’s thinking).  A while back I decided that I wasn’t going to debate religion with him the same way I wouldn’t debate politics with my Step-brother.  We all believe so firmly that we 100% know that we’ll never change each other’s minds therefore we are wasting our breath.  Sure we still throw comments at each other but someone eventually bows out gracefully because we know we won’t change anything.  That being said…

I wanted to post my essay as a blog entry.  I am NOT trying to convert anyone to Christianity.  I’m just proud of the finished product.  So read it if you want or pretend I never posted it.  I’ll be fine with that too.  :D

****

I believe in God

            Growing up, I was made to go to church every Sunday.  I also attended Christian day school which meant my religion was instilled in me 6 days a week, but literally 24 hours a day and 7 days a week, if we include my home life when I was young.  As we got older my siblings and I protested more often and more loudly about attending Church on Sunday mornings.   When I entered public school in the 9^th grade, my sister entered her 1^st year of college, and my brother who was four years older than she had been out of the house for at least five years.  Little did we know then that we were about to have some very near tragedies that would test even the strongest of Christians.  My mother however, never wavered. 

When I was 16 years old, I was rear ended trying to make a left hand turn into our driveway.  The busy highway in front of house meant that we had to wait for the oncoming traffic to pass by before we could make the turn.  I was at a dead stop when I was rear ended at 60 miles per hour.  When my mother came over the hill before our house and saw the flares lining the highway, she said that she instantly started praying.  She and every driving member of our family had had close calls with people in a hurry.  These cars would pass us on the right just to save a couple seconds of their commute and this made for some very nail biting close calls.  Minutes before my mother got there, a very kind woman stopped, came over to my driver’s side door, opened it and coerced me to get out.  I was sobbing uncontrollably, amazed that I was not only still alive but also completely mobile.  I’m sure whatever I said to her was completely incoherent, but I can remember what she said to me.  She said, “I know, Sweetie.  Come on, Sweetie.  You just have to get out of the car!  It’s not safe here!”  When my mother finally got to the center of the confusion, she threw the car in park and ran to me.  She told the lady who was holding me that she had been waiting 20 years to come over that hill and “see those flares.”  She had been praying non-stop for the last 5 minutes that it took her to get to me, after first seeing the flares.  Her prayers were, “Please don’t take my baby. Please don’t take my baby.”  As a mother now, I can only imagine the fears going through her mind; “Is she dead?  Is she paralyzed?  Will she be mentally handicapped, for the rest of her life?”  I know for a fact that the faith my mother had in God made the weight on her shoulders lift instantly when she saw me standing upright, embraced in the arms of a stranger in front of our mailbox.

Two weeks later, my brother was involved in a very serious accident.  The 16-year-old who pulled out in front of him had been killed instantly.  My mother prayed constantly for my brother to recover but also kept the memory of that 16-year-old girl in our thoughts.  She prayed for her family and their emotional healing through this difficult time.  Even though we almost lost a member of our immediate family, she trivialized it compared to the other family who in her words, “would never see such a young girl grow up, get married and have a family of her own.”  As we were packing up his hospital room the day my brother was to be discharged, my mother was opening the last of the mail that he received during his stay.  My brother and I looked at her as she started to softly cry over a particular greeting card.  It turned out that this one was from the parents of the girl killed in the accident.  Their sentiments, which caused my mom to cry, were simply put: “We’re so sorry this happened and we hope you can move on from this.”  My mother was blown away.  Even though the details of the accident were clearly the young girl’s fault, my mom couldn’t believe that two grieving parents were able to take the time to send such a beautiful card.  I saw another weight lifted off someone’s shoulders, this time it was my brother’s.  My mother couldn’t see any of this being anything other than Divine Intervention.

My mother was diagnosed with stage IIII ovarian cancer on Valentine’s Day 1997, 30 years ago to the day that my father proposed to her.  Obviously up to this point, I knew my mother had faith.  However in my early adult life, I hadn’t been practicing my parent’s faith on my own.  My mother took her chemotherapy treatments on Wednesday afternoons, so that she wasn’t sick until Friday night.  She would be sick all day Saturday and most of Sunday.  But she was always back to work on Monday morning, if she could possibly help it. 

The first conversation I had with my mother after she decided to discontinue her cancer treatments involved a lot of hugging and crying.  She said, “Sarah, I’ve lived my life. I’m not one of these 20 something women, with a baby hanging on their hip with breast cancer.”  I replied, “But I’m YOUR baby.”  I regret making that statement now because it was the only time I made her cry after she made the decision to die.  It wasn’t my intention, just a statement from a daughter to her mother, and I see now that it was a selfish statement. 

When I completely embraced her decision, I came home from Minneapolis every chance I could.  I spent two hours, during the car ride there, wondering what she was going to look like this time.  After the visit, I spent two hours in the car wondering what she was going to look like the next time I went home.  When I went home for spring break, March 2000, my mother was listening to Tennessee Ernie Ford and while I was sitting next to her on our couch, she grabbed my hand and said, “I wish Jesus would just swoop down on his chariot and pick me up right now because I’m ready.”  At that moment I wished the same thing.  Not for any reason other than, “If she wanted that, then I wanted it too.”  I went home to see her on a Friday, the day she entered into hospice.  She made me go back to Minneapolis for classes that week even though I protested. 

The following Thursday night, I received a phone call from my father around midnight, urging me to leave as soon as possible, even that night if I could.  My longtime boyfriend and I packed our bags at my father’s command and left our home in Minneapolis.  When we got to the hospice unit around 3am, the nurses greeted us.  They told me that she was still alive and I was able to see her then.  Even though she looked like she was sleeping I could tell that she was just a shell of a human being, barely hanging on.  When I asked how long she had been like this they said she had been incoherent for about three days.  After that they showed us to a sleeping room where we could stay for the night.  After we woke up on Friday morning I checked in on my mom one last time.  I hugged her, kissed her and told her that I loved her.  We then decided to go to my parent’s house to freshen up and get ready for the inevitable events that would come that day.  Within 5 minutes of our being there the phone rang.  I dropped my shoulders because I knew what this meant.  I knew before my boyfriend answered the phone that my mom was dead.  I was handed the phone and my sister said, “She’s gone Sarah.  She’s gone.” 

Later I found out that a dear co-worker of my mom’s had shown up shortly after I left.  Seeing that all of my mother’s honorary pall bearers were her co-worker’s that worked less than 100 feet away from where she was staying in Hospice, it was not unusual that these people came to see her.  They came on breaks, lunch breaks, before work and after work.  They would all say, “We just HAVE to see her.”  But this co-worker was different.  Dave Tiffany said he was compelled to come and see my mom, even though he had already said good-bye to her the day before.  He said that something had drawn him to come back again.  On this visit he said “Please let go.  I will see you again in heaven.  You can go now, just go.”  At this point, my mother died.  She didn’t die while holding a family member’s hand.  She died while holding a co-worker’s hand who held the very same belief that she did.
            After she passed away, I lived with my agnostic boyfriend for the next year and a half.  This boyfriend asked me every morning if I was going to be “happy” that day.  My normal response to him was, “I don’t know.  I’ll let you know later.”  He begged me to take anti-depressant drugs, just so I could be happy.  I refused because I felt that I needed to feel my mother’s death in order to really move on.  I finally realized that there is a simple grieving process to losing a parent.  In my case the 1^st Easter, Birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas and anniversary of her death were practically unbearable.  When Easter was approaching in 2001 I actually had my own epiphany.  I told myself, “What are you so worried about?  This is the second Easter without her.  Nothing can be as bad as the first.”  At this point I was able to look forward to the holidays that were to come, thinking that none of them could be harder than the firsts.  My simple grieving process was behind me and all it really took was time.
            After the dark cloud that was a permanent fixture over my head had lifted, I was left to go on with my daily activities in a different way.  I found myself constantly asking, “What would my mom want me to do?”  A majority of the questions I had were able to be answered by the way my mother lived her life and the faith that ultimately drove her. The phrase, “What would Jesus do?” never held a lot of clout with me, but when WWJD started coming directly after “What would mom want me to do?” a bridge was made.  I felt like I had come full circle as far as my religion was concerned.  I practiced it blindly as a child, I questioned it as a young adult and I accepted it as an adult who saw too many reasons to deny it.  I believe in God because God showed himself though my mother.  This is not a belief that I came to blindly or easily.