You’ll hear bizarre stories of unexplainable occurrences that can be explained no more than calling them freak accidents; there are instances of a man being pinned by a train for an extensive period of time before their rescue, or a beachgoer tumbling into a hole and suffocating. Such mind-grappling scenarios that have truly happened. When these people woke up that day, they had no idea what Fate had in store. The unexpected happens when you least expect it.
A thought that always troubles my mind at the most unusual part of the day is I’ll be in a bathroom stall and think I hear someone in the stall next to me without having heard them enter. My curiosity gets the best of me and I bend down to see if there are feet next door, but it isn’t feet I see. Instead, I see someone gazing back at me. Now I don’t know if I expect this person to be another curious woman or a sadistic male killer, but I’ll bet my scream would be the same.
Don’t get me wrong, I know that sometimes great things happen to people as well in an unexpected way. I’ve certainly had my close calls where Fate seems to step in and save my derriere. So tell me, what was a time that something totally unexpected happened to you that ultimately changed your life?
Here’s a story I’ve written that may shed more light on this scenario. READ “STIFF”
Before I start, I have to let you know that I am anything but ordinary. So are you! There’s not one person in the world who’s experienced the same honors and tragedies; joys and heartaches; failures and accomplishments as we have. No one. But most of us are still considered to be “ordinary people.” Are we in danger of eviction? You may be surprised.
According to a study given to Americans, less than 1/3 are prepared for a financial crisis and a third have no savings. Seriously, what would happen if someone on the freeway got a bee sting and went into shock, taking a bunch of automobiles with them – yours included? Fortunately, you aren’t dead, although the financial wave of crisis ahead may force you to consider whether you’re so lucky after all. Even with insurance – while vehicular insurance pays financially after an accident, they can’t make up for the bodily damage. Changes are good you’re forever impacted.
Let’s face it, no matter how much you recoup in damages, replacing your body parts will never be the same. AND the house payment, the car payment, the credit cards and loans, as well as any other tidbits of insurance, utilities, etc. aren’t always willing to wait. The harsh part is companies need to ensure the funds are produced for the products that have been purchased – the end. Companies seldom consider the consumer and the emergencies they’ve encountered.
Don’t be fooled into thinking that if you’re a cautious driver, you’ll be safe. Typically speaking in a freeway pileup, one vehicle’s driver fell asleep, was drinking, talking on the phone, or any other distractive calamities. And car accidents aren’t the only causes of hardship. Sometimes tragedy strikes with a vengeance taking our finances and a loved one away simultaneously. In these such instances, counseling is just as important as finances. Without writing a book, there are far too many situations to list them all.
The point is that any type of income, or lack thereof, can cause hardships. Loss of a job is another. And experience in today’s world doesn’t hold a candle to youth. Technology is changing at such a rapid pace that no matter the skill, you’ll have to upgrade to get the job. Ever heard the saying, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks?” Believe me, you aren’t the only one. There are a lot of companies that feel the same. I can’t tell you how many applications I’ve filled out that asked me if I’m over 40 years old. Sure, I’ve got more stuff in my cranium that needs to be worked around – but I’ve also extensive real-world experience in dealing with people in general.
As I was saying, there are many reasons people must survive with temporary financial setbacks, including an ex refusing to pay child support. Think about what must be done when he ceases payments? Every time it’s the same old thing – no penalties to him. No hardships. And now, the time has come where it’s costing the livelihood of your children.
Here are several places I was able to dig up, although there are more available, found by searching the web. Although these are located in Utah, some of them are nationwide and can help with food, utilities, healthcare needs, housing, finances, credit counseling, legal services, public assistance, and/or support groups. Take some time and be patient.
There are places and resources you can utilize to help you cope, although they won’t always work. Still, it’s worth it to check into them. The fact remains that when given the notice to vacate, despite the three-day-notice, you have longer to find a solution. Check your local government to determine what it is for you. This means you have more time of which you may not have been aware. You may be able to work a part-time job, find assistance from a church or other establishment, or locate another additional means.
Scour your house to find items to sell (after all, you may not have them at all soon)
If you are a photographer or artist, create and sell online
Write an eBook about things other people care about that may help them
Start a dog-walking business and offer your services to people you know
Buy low-cost items at yard sales, even jimmy the cost down, and resell on Facebook, KSL, or other free advertising outlets
Brainstorm before you go to bed and see what happens when you awaken (sure, you may have restless sleep, but the answer may be right under your nose)
The point is that no matter who you are – if you are not investing in additional outlets, or you’re simply live paycheck to paycheck like the majority of our country, what will you do when something comes up, “ordinary person”?
My advice is to take a chance and start something now, before the crisis, to prevent it from happening at all. Many times the actions of someone else, completely out of our control, impact us in ways we cannot anticipate. You can do this. You are not ordinary. The fact of the matter is, you’re quite an extraordinary person. And you have ways of figuring things out you never thought possible. So, dig deeper! Share your insight!
At the circus, I’m always torn. I mean, I love to see how intelligent the animals are and I’m in awe at every feat they manage. But on the other hand, I’m saddened by the fact they’re supposed to be wild. Emotionally torn, like last night. A responsible person always has demons at war between pleasure and sensibility. For me, last night, I walked the line like a tightrope walker.
Being a single parent who works and has no life can be a daunting experience, especially when two opportunities to go out on the same night exist. One gathering was for an open house for a friend’s new business, directly following work. In fact, I left a bit early to attend. I had a beer and rubbed shoulders a bit, making a few connections and walking away with a spectacular work of art from a raffle. I have no idea what the original picture is I’ve won, but I know it’s going to be spectacular. The place I visited is one that anyone with an interest in creating films in Salt Lake should justly visit, and it’s called Creative Guild Studio. I’d go into details, but I’m trying to keep this short and sweet. It was awesome, and you would do better in checking it out for yourself.
When I left this event, I rallied with my new friends from work at an apartment where they partook of “God’s Sweet Rolling Hills.” I’m happy to say I was cautious enough not to
include myself in this activity. (That’s all I’d need for “you know who” to cause friction for me and my children.) However, I drank several shots of Fire Ball, the best cinnamon whiskey I’ve ever sampled. Needless to say, I’m happy I didn’t get pulled over after resting up, my clothes no longer smelled like Gain clothing detergent. And through the cautions of said friends, I managed being detoured from my nemesis, tequila.
So, after “climbing the ladder and strutting heel to toe across the wire,” I arrived with a few new memories to last me a while longer. I tasted freedom and independence for a moment, and it was good to let my wild animal growl a little.
Who’s there to drop a load of the kid’s friends to the movies, wait in long lines at the doctor’s office after taking the day from work, fix dinner in work clothes after arriving home from screaming clients all day, or fight for child support because one idiot refuses to pay? The sheriff — um, no, I meant to say, “the parent.” Or in my case, the mom.
As a mother of a teenager, I can say to all other single parents of teens, “Bless you,” especially if they turn out alright in the end. Although my son displays brilliance at the drop of a hat, his social skills are on the precipice of mild insanity, as if he’s afraid he won’t fit in with the guys. The truth is, he’s far better than holding himself back to fit in for two more years. Cameron has a blinding bright future ahead of him.
While being homeschooled, his grades shined like the sun in the heavens — until I began working and expected him to proceed on his own. Meanwhile, his father insisted he’s “normal” and should attend public school. I tried to set clear expectations but caved after being pestered by him and our son. Instead of going to a school focusing on kids with special qualities, I registered him in public school three years ago. Cameron’s grades took a major dip. “He’s new to the system and needs to adjust,” I was told. I backed off and waited — for three years. Each and every year his scores dip lower and lower. His final term last year was below a 2.0.
“That’s it! At the rate you’re going, there will be nothing left to salvage after high school. Universities won’t accept you, much less fight for you, and the military will take you on as one of the lost kids who doesn’t know where else to go after their parents kick them out — as a last resort. This is not a plan! Instead, you’ll attend the Utah Military Academy (UMA) this year.”
Nikki, his kid sister, jumps up and down with glee. Her intent is to become a dog-handler for the military or even continue on as a military vet. Whichever she decides, it’s quite a phenomenal feat that makes her mother’s heart swell with pride.
Cameron isn’t so perky about the whole idea. He doesn’t want to abandon his friends and girlfriend this year, especially after we had the big “Condom Talk.” I explained that if he gives it a couple of months, he’ll find he fits right in and probably love it. Meanwhile, he’s determined to get his driver’s license all of a sudden. Hmm, I smell freedom in the wake. With all of this going on, I’ve given him a “bad guy” ultimatum.
If he decides not to attend military school, he’s going to his father’s house because he’s given up. I won’t quit on him even if it means I have to stop being “the good guy.” Now I wonder, am I making the right choice?
So much has happened, but I’ll fill you in on the most pressing item of parenthood — lack of control with the necessity to work. If you remember, I’m on a 90-day probation period for my new employer, which puts me in an uncomfortable position when things go awry, because I cannot have any time away from work for the first three months without suffering a write-up. I already have one, due to an accident that lengthened my arrival from one hour to an hour and 12 minutes, despite speeding at 90 mph. After two, the write-up goes in front of the council and they determine whether or not you’ll remain.
Last Friday was the final day of school and an early release. With Cameron dismissed an hour before Nikki, I asked him to pick her up. She usually rides her bike. But I took them out for breakfast. When we were finished, there was no time to go by the house to get Nikki’s things. Besides, she wouldn’t need anything on the last day, right? Wrong.
I dropped Cameron off with $20 so he and Nikki could celebrate getting out early and purchased a yearbook for him to have signed. Off I drove, wondering how the summer will go. Cameron wants to work a summer job. Nikki wanting to swim. (This is a big deal considering a non-English speaking woman nearly drown her in a tub when she was four. Ever since, it’s been a trial even giving her a bath.) Cameron can’t be working while Nikki swims, so it was quite the conundrum. But, I had an hour’s drive with time to consider the options.
When I arrived at work, I submitted a text to Cameron which read, “Hey. respond when you get this… Nikki is out @ 1:15 p.m. Please be there BEFORE that time.” He texted back, “Ok I will.”
Neck-deep in a meeting, taking notes concerning a new system, I ignored my phone until it insisted I answer. I slipped into the hall to answer a call at 1:30 from Nikki, calling from the school’s office, saying he hadn’t come yet. I called six times, and he didn’t answer. As I was leaving a message, he picked up. “Oh,” he said, “I forgot. I’ll go right now.”
My phone rang and rang within the next couple of hours from a Blocked Caller. Considering them sales calls, I ignored them, I slipped out periodically calling my son to no avail. Worried, I relayed my situation to my instructor, who reminded me that if I leave, I may lose my job. This means I’d also lose my apartment and ability to provide food, etc. for my children.
My mind raced around all the possibilities that may have occurred, preventing both kids from answering their phones. Was my daughter alive?
I hurried into the break room and listened to my messages. There was a call from a police officer, left at 3:55, stating he’s bringing Nikki home from school. She’d waited three hours and her brother never arrived. Because we failed to go home before school, she’d left her phone in her room and couldn’t call Cameron or me herself because the faculty had gone home.
Turns out, he was making out with a girl at the park after going to lunch with the $20. He’d saved enough to purchase frozen burritos for Nikki’s dinner.
The short answer to my solution? I’ve confiscated his phone and texted
his girlfriend he cannot see her until permission is given. Snapchat and Instagram have been deleted. (And he’s freaking out because he can’t continue his “streaks” on Snapchat, as if it’s the end of the world.)
After three days, Cameron begged me to call his dad who thinks Cameron getting a job is a great idea. I explained that unless Cameron could handle the regular responsibilities, he would not get the privilege of payment.
I am signing both kids up at a military academy. Drastic, I get that. But I can’t afford to lose my low-paying position. What else can a mother do with a teen’s raging hormones but pull the leash in?
Growing up, my mother wasn’t as strong as she should have been, even though she loved her kids. When it came right down to it, she had taken on having five kids starting at age 17 to a man who already had two. Too much too soon will cost you!
I, on the other hand, had my children much later in life; my first at 36 and my second at 40. One might think that with my seniority, my children would fare better at survival. They’d be wrong. Although I’m more mature than a teenager, my predicament is ending up with men who felt they were young enough to go at it but too old to take responsibility for it. That’s right – single mother both times.
A typical person may believe there’s something wrong with a woman to be jilted twice in a row. Others may think there’s something wrong with the mother’s choices in partners. And, hey, I never claimed to be the most grounded person. The first time was a fortunate fluke at 36 when I didn’t think I could become pregnant. But the second time, we had discussed getting married and having a family, as well as the fact my chances were slimming in time. His words were, “If it’s God’s will, it will happen.” Apparently, it was God’s will for him to leave us high and dry because that’s what happened when the baby was not a hockey player. She’s an intelligent girl. And I’m relieved I never married him.
On the same note, I still ended up with the most wonderful kids any parent could ever hope to raise.
Today, we all worked together and created a wind chime with tiny cork bottles; each held a teeny note created by each of us, surrounding a larger bottle to chime on.
My son made a wonderful pork chop dinner with pasta and then went outside and cleaned the interior of my car. My daughter purchased a 5-pack of Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. I gave her three. She made out the most incredible card, and this is how it read:
So I suppose out of all my bad choices, at least two of them were right! The one aspect far different from my own parents I participate in is communicating. I speak to my children about anything and everything, although I use appropriate language. If they’re old enough to ask, they’re curious enough to get the answers from somewhere. If it isn’t me, they’ll find them somewhere else. I’d rather do it, no matter how humiliating it is. Some consider me a Mother Fluffer. That’s okay.
Happy Mother’s Day to all the single parents doing it alone. You should know by now that you’re an incredible Mother Fluffer! What do you do to earn your title?
If energy never dies, where does evil go? Physicists have spoken for years about energy and how it never grows or dissipates, it changes from one form to another. Sort of the way ice melts, changing into water. While they’ve changed physically, the components of the H2O remain the same. This is the simplified version of what I’m trying to express about energy not disappearing but changing from one place to another. So, if energy never dies, what happens when someone evil dies? Where does the energy go?
When someone has the death penalty or anyone we consider an evil person dies, what happens next? Are there ghosts or haunted houses? The energy remains. I have a little bit of a story about this happening, although I wasn’t decked out in Ghostbuster’s gear. In fact, I was working at Utah State Prison in Draper’s administrative offices. Seeing how the experience was about a decade ago, the government offices are way behind technologically, and Utah is reportedly about an additional ten years behind our sister states, it’s not a surprise to know my job was taking the hardcopy files and typing them into electronic files. And there were rows and rows of files, practically stretching to the ceiling.
One day, shortly before my supervisor left on vacation, I turned up an interesting file which had been misfiled. In fact, it wasn’t actually one file; it was three big fat ones. They were the files of Gary Gilmore. I’m not sure if you even know who he is anymore, but he was a murderer who insisted on being executed. And, he wanted the firing squad. Controversy surrounds Gary’s father of being the illegitimate son of Harry Houdini. But, regardless of whose son he was, his father, Frank, was an irresponsible and reckless individual as was his son, Gary. The apple certainly didn’t fall far from the tree. Gary’s last words were reportedly, “Let’s do this!” With that, Tommy Lee Jones got a role in The Executioner’s Song, about this occurrence. If you get a chance, look up the story online.
Anyway, as I grabbed the file, unknowing whose it was, it was crammed into the back. I felt determined to get it out, but I did it. Without glancing at the name, I plopped it on my desk and opened to begin the mundane task of typing the contents. I have to admit, many of the folders contained crimes that desensitized me a bit. For this, I’m glad that my supervisor had two men escort me from the office the day before her return from vacation. Mrs. Redding determined to take credit for locating the file herself. But the electricity that ran through my fingers as I turned the pages, reading this intelligent man’s train of thought during these killings was evil — for sure — but it was unlike any I’d ever felt. My only thoughts are of the two people who received his corneas before his cremation. If I felt the evil run through my body from my fingertips, what of the people’s eyes? And with that energy flowing through them, was their good strong enough to win?
Sometimes we wake up in a bad mood and it follows us throughout the day, causing a chain of events. My daughter Nikki was waking up every morning at 4:00 and coming into my bathroom. Being a sleeper so light that an ant farting powers my eyes open, she undoubtedly awakened me by walking and finished it off by flushing. I begged her to empty her bladder before bed thinking this would help. It didn’t. It wasn’t until I took her phone, for her misuse of it, and placed it in my closet did I discover the truth. Her alarm went off at 4:00 a.m. I was angry. I immediately woke her up, describing I had been getting five hours of sleep every night because of her shenanigans. Her reply was that waking up that early allowed her time to prepare for school–except, she would always return to bed! I was the only one who stayed wide awake until taking her to school.
I was so angry, nothing else seemed to go right that morning. It wasn’t until I stopped to take inventory of myself that I made the decision to have a pleasant day, regardless of the events. Turns out, it was one of the best days I’ve had at work. Energy begets energy, whether it’s positive or negative. But, my friend, energy never disappears. So what unfortunate person roped it for his own? Honestly, I wash my hands of it. I got rid of it and so can s/he. The only point I can make for certain is I haven’t killed anyone.