I Cried This Morning...

If you've been following my blog for the past few weeks, you'll remember that I'm nuts. Well, technically not 'nuts' per se, but coming off of an anti-depressant addiction I wasn't aware of has left me with emotions scattered all over the place. Like, seriously.

For example, last night 17 was looking at a video on the Book of the Faces, and when I asked her what it was, she told me it was a deaf woman hearing her husband's voice for the first time.

MUSH. <--------- That's what I turned to upon viewing the video.

This morning I had my tunes playing while I was getting ready for work, and John Denver came on, crooning his beautiful ballad "Country Roads". Shut up, I like John Denver, don't you judge me.

Anyway, I'm not sure if it's because WVU was crushed last night by Kentucky and knocked out of March Madness, or the fact that my baby will be a freshman there this fall, but my eyes welled up with tears and I cried. I told myself through my tears that I was being an idiot. I didn't argue with myself, I know better. I'll lose, every time.

But I cried this morning. I cried because it's a pretty song. I cried because my baby is leaving home in less than 6 months. I cried because my emotions are completely fucked up because of the anti-depressants. Am I depressed? No, I don't think I am. Am I an emotional train wreck? No doubt in my mind that yes, I am. I have tears in my eyes just writing this.

Last week, we went to the state capitol  for our high school's symphonic honor band performance. Both of my girls  are in that band and they overwhelm me with their talents. During their last song of the performance, Angels in the Architecture, I cried like a freaking lunatic. I cried at the beauty of the music, the difficulty of the 15 minute piece, the solos that my trumpet playing senior had. I cried knowing that this is her last year playing in this award winning band, a band that changed who she is and contributed to making her a confident young adult. The difference from who she was 4 years ago to who she's become is startling (in a good way) and I cried at how proud of her I am, proud of both my daughters.

The band director asked if anyone had taken any pictures during that performance. I didn't even try, because I was such a mess that you'd need a Dramamine to view them, they'd be so badly out of focus from my ridiculous crying ass.

When I think about her graduation in just over 2 months, I cry. I can't even begin to imagine what I'm going to be like on that day, but here's a tip: BUY STOCK IN KLEENEX. Trust me, you won't regret it. My baby will be playing alongside her big sister in the symphonic band's final performance of the year, and it will be the last time both my girls will play together in the same band. And yes, I'm crying again as I am writing that sentence. DAMN YOU EFFEXOR!

Make no mistake, I was a crying fool long before the anti-depressants and probably a crying fool while on them. But now that I'm off, Jesus, Mary and St. Joseph, I'm a thousand times more emotional than I've ever been.

I cried this morning. I will cry again soon, of that I have no doubt. It's gotta be normal, right? The emotional wreck that I've become is a side effect of leaving the meds behind, I know that. But I also know that I'm not alone. I received so many comments on my Mamalode piece letting me know that I am in good company, and for that company I am ever grateful. If you are trying to overcome an addiction, whether it's one you knew you had or you had no clue, YOU TOO are NOT ALONE. Come sit by me and we'll cry together. And we'll get through it. Together.

Almost heaven....

Those words really didn't mean much to me before my oldest daughter went to college last August at West Virginia University. They sing that song after every home football game and it brings chills. Now those words touch my heart in ways I never knew they would. This week I cry whenever I hear that song. I cry for my state because of the recent flooding. I cry because as of this morning, 23 people have died in my state.

West Virginia has become my state. I was born in Philly, raised in Jersey but now I live in West Virginia. It's my state, and the people of my state are hurting. I feel helpless to do anything to help them.

My oldest and I were in the store the other day shopping for some things for her new apartment up at WVU and the fire department was set up outside the store to collect donations that were earmarked for those affected by this horrible tragedy. In addition to her apartment needs, we bought some bleach, some scrub brushes, rubber gloves and a case of drinking water.  We dropped our donations off on our way out and tearfully thanked the fire fighters for their efforts to help the flood victims.

I don't feel like I'm doing enough.

This morning, I had to do some research on where exactly those 23 people lost their lives. I searched news stories all morning to determine that 15 people lost their lives in Greenbrier County, 6 died in Kanawha County, in Ohio County a 4 year old boy died,  and Jackson County an 8 year old boy died. And I cried. I cried while doing my job this morning, and that's never happened to me before. Usually I'm looking at disasters or environmental issues in other parts of the world. Places that don't affect me. Places where I don't live.

On social media, I'm sharing the hell out of supply donation drop off centers, disaster relief websites and places where one can donate money to aid in the relief efforts.

I still don't feel like I'm doing enough.

I've seen the hashtag #PrayForWV and it's a lovely idea. If you don't have the funds available to buy and donate supplies, if you don't have the extra money to donate to the Red Cross or any other relief agencies, please DO send prayers. Those people need our prayers.

But if you can skip that Venti half caff with an double shot of whatever from Starbucks, please consider skipping it today. Donate that $5 for this disaster.  Send your prayers, but if you can, please send donations.

WV VOAD (Volunteer Organizations Active in Disaster)
The Red Cross Disaster Relief 
1-800-RED-CROSS
If you text REDCROSS to 90999 you can donate $10

Anything at this point will help. And if you can't donate, send prayers. And then share all of this information with someone who maybe CAN donate a little money.  All of your efforts are appreciated.

An open letter to football broadcasters...

Dear Sports Broadcasters at NBC, CBS, ABC, Fox, ESPN, ESPN2, The Ocho, ETC.....

Why don't you show marching bands performing at halftime during your football broadcast?

Let me break it down for you: According to the NCAA Division 1 Wiki page, there are about 85 team members on an average college football team. In contrast, in some colleges and universities there are 4 times that many marching band members. I'm not good at math but that's a lot of potential eyes.

You folks show play after play when the ball is on the field. You show the play, you show the replay, you show the replay from the 35 different camera angles you have. But at halftime, you don't show the marching band. Why??

My girl. I bought the pic.

As a parent of a member of the Pride of West Virginia Mountaineer Marching Band I'm really quite annoyed at you. You see, last Sunday, my daughter along with the other 300+ members of the Pride traveled to Pittsburgh to perform their pregame and halftime show for the Steelers home opener against the San Francisco 49ers. The Steelers game was not televised in my area (only the Redskins game was televised, every other sports channel had water polo or some other 'sport'). I was struggling to find the Steelers game online and finally came across a shady and suspicious site that was live streaming the game, and I'm sure my computer is now infected with about 5 dozen viruses. And for what? You didn't even bother to MENTION that the band was performing. For those kids, it was the chance of a lifetime performing at Heinz Field. But for you, it meant nothing.

My daughter's old high school band director has some souped up Sunday NFL package where he gets to see every second of every Sunday football game and he, too, was watching the Steelers game, looking for the WVU band. But alas, they showed no band. Oh wait, I'm lying. He DID tell me that they showed the band for about 3 seconds but there was no sound. Only the endless droning of the football commentators rehashing what we may have missed in the first half.

Look, if I'm watching a football game, I'M WATCHING IT WITH MY EYES OPEN. You DO NOT have to tell me what happened in the first half. I was sitting right there watching it. I saw it, I'm not an idiot. Sometimes I'm even drinking and I STILL remember what I saw. It's crazy but I really don't want to watch highlights of plays I JUST SAW. I WANT TO SEE THE BAND.

Let me get back to those numbers I mentioned at the beginning of this rant letter. Imagine, for a moment, how high your ratings would be if you just showed the marching band's halftime performance! 300 band kids out there, with parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, associates, band directors, and we ALL WANT TO SEE OUR KIDS ON THE FIELD. That's literally tens of thousands of eyes on your broadcast, waiting patiently to watch our kids.

I promise you, I am not taking anything away from the football players. I love football players, I wrote about one here. But the band members work their asses off every single day to perfect their music, their show, they bring so much joy and entertainment to so many people. It's just a shame that this entertainment isn't ever shown on your broadcast. I'm not just talking about pro football, I'm talking about ALL football broadcasts. Let's show some respect to the band programs out there and get some cameras on these young men and women!

Yours truly,
Snarkfest

Boxtops and Breakdowns...

This morning started off like every other morning does. I woke 15 up for school, I made coffee, I woke her up again, I drank the coffee, I woke her up again. Status quo. When I emptied the coffee grounds into the garbage, then took the garbage out to the garage, I found a Boxtop. For those of you who don't have kids in the school system, Boxtops are those little square things on cereal boxes, tissues and other packaging that are worth a dime to your school. I've been cutting them off of Cheerios since 18 was 5. It's almost like my brain is programmed to do so. I collect them and send them to school so that school can make money.

Let me be clear: only elementary and middle schools in our area participate in the Boxtops for Education program. My kids are in college and high school. Yet, still I cut them. Still I save them. I'd hate for a school to lose a dime. When I get enough of these Boxtops I give them to my neighbor who still has a child in middle school.

Let's get back to me in my garage. I saw a Boxtop on the floor. I bent over and picked it up. It was covered in garage goo, so I brought it into the kitchen and I RAN IT UNDER WATER TO RINSE IT OFF. I rinsed off a piece of cardboard so a school would not lose a dime. I have officially lost my mind.

In the past 2 weeks I have run the gamut of emotions. I saw 18 (yes, she's 18 now) for the first time in a month and I didn't think I'd ever stop crying. When I got to spend 4 minutes with her during her break from marching in the WVU football game with the Pride of West Virginia Marching Band, I could not stop touching her. I rubbed her back, I stroked her hair, I kept my arm around her. It was like, if I stopped touching her, it wouldn't be real, she wouldn't really be there. God I missed her.

If seeing her for the first time was the ultimate in joy, saying goodbye to her just a few short hours later was the ultimate sadness. And seeing her sister have to say goodbye to her all over again broke my heart into tiny little pieces.

I saw my mom recently and spent a weekend with her. She broke her arm at the beginning of the summer and I spent a week with her then. This time it was good to see her again under better circumstances. When I saw her this time, she and I discussed her living situation and how concerned my brother and I were that she is so vulnerable in her apartment. She's 77, living alone in a senior citizens high rise apartment building. Many of her friends are gone and we are concerned about her, God forbid, tripping in the apartment and no one knowing that she needs help. So we discussed the possibility of moving her to an assisted living facility. I explained to her that she would still have her freedom, but that there would be someone there to check in on her. It's one thing for me to call her everyday to say hi and chat, but I'm 4 hours away. I am of no help if, God forbid, she falls in the tub. She seemed receptive to the idea and agreed that when the time felt right to her, she would let us know.

Then I began the search for affordable assisted living facilities, and guess what! THEY DON'T EXIST. I'm looking at places in Philly because she wants to be closer to my brother and her own brother. $3500 for a studio apartment in an assisted living facility. $1800 if she wants to share a semi-private room

As I drove to 15's volleyball game last night with a car full of snacks for the team, I chatted with mom. We discussed the unbelievably ridiculous cost of taking care of a senior citizen who wants to remain independent. We discussed my commitment to my children and my family. She told me that I needed to slow down and stop trying to be all things to all people. And I cried. I cried because as much as I say I'm fine, I've got this, I can handle it, I'm lying. I really don't have this. I really can't handle it. I want my mom to be safe, I want the best for my kids, but I need to realize that I am NOT solely responsible for everything and everyone. I need to learn how to say the word "NO" and mean it.

I washed off a Boxtop this morning and realized that I've lost my sense of me. The Boxtop doesn't matter. I'm gone. Put my picture on a carton of milk, or better yet, on a wine bottle. I need to stop worrying about Boxtops. I need to stop worrying if I've got enough snacks for everyone on the volleyball team (including the managers!), I need to take a step back and remember that I'm a very important piece of this puzzle, and if I don't take care of myself, everything else falls apart. I'm going to take a step back and let someone else do the legwork. Let someone else do the worrying for a little while.

And I'm not going to feel guilty if a Boxtop goes un-redeemed. In the big scheme of things, there are so many other things that are much more important than a dirty Boxtop.