Mom is Just a Nickname

I have been blessed to have known wonderful men and fathers in my life.  Both of my grandfathers, my own father, my father-in-law, and my husband are all men who have contributed much love and care into my life.  I’m thankful for each of them.

Choosing a place to write about for “D” should have been easy. I’ve lived in a number of places that start with “D”. I considered writing about Daytona, with the roaring race cars I remember from when I was 3 or 4. I considered writing about Delray, but decided that was too much like writing about Boca Raton. The one that popped into my head first and stayed there, though, was Defiance.

I had never heard of this small town in Northwest Ohio until I met the man who would become my husband. He grew up there; not quite a native but close enough. When I moved there in the early months of 1998, I was charmed by the small, rural town. The downtown has quaint shops and restaurants to wander. There are parks, which are great for the kids. The library is an architectural treasure and the land on which it sits is historically significant and beautiful. There are towering trees which provide shade, lilac bushes that scent the air each spring, and broad rivers which define the landscape of the downtown. Many of the homes are quite old and beautiful, with lovely gardens and lawns to admire. All of this can be seen by walking, too, since the sidewalks make it possible to stroll all over the place without competing with car traffic.

The people that live there have long memories and long histories. Even as the landscape of the town has changed through the years (it’s changed quite a bit even since I first lived there) the people remember how it used to be. More than once I felt totally lost when asking for directions since the landmarks used were often for places and stores that no longer existed.

I remember walking into the library to get my library card. (I rarely move to a new place without doing this first thing, since I’m so addicted to reading.) It was shortly after I got married and I was still trying out my new last name. The librarian, an older woman, looked at the name I’d written and looked at me. “Which of the boys did you marry, then?” she asked. I blinked at her, totally confused that she seemed to know my husband. Her words confirmed this as she recalled watching my husband and his brother come into the library as children, and talked about how my in-laws were now her neighbors. I had this scenario happen more than once as I settled into life in the small town. It was a new experience for me and I found it charming.

If you like to travel to new places via book or video, check out ‘The Prizewinner of Defiance, Ohio’. It was originally a book, but it’s also been made a movie. The movie wasn’t actually shot in Defiance, but it gives a fair feel for the town, even now. Reading the book was a tour through some of the history of the town, and I loved being able to look at the 1950’s pictures in the book and recognize places in town.

I moved to Defiance, OH in ‘defiance’ of my parents’ strongest recommendations. (Did I mention I abruptly withdrew from college and moved West with a man I had met on the internet? That went over really well at the time.) Six years later, I left Defiance of two minds: one was happy to be leaving the small town to go to a bigger town that had more options and the other was sad to leave the small town with it’s charm, history and personality.

When we decided to go to the zoo on Easter Sunday, we hoped the crowds would be limited due to the holiday and the weather would be decent. We were right about both! What we didn’t expect was that the day would come back to animals mating as often as it did.

Last time we went to the zoo, we saw mostly the Native Florida animals, the South American creatures, and most of the animals from Down Under. We figured today we would check out the Australian Lorikeet aviary we’d missed the last time, and the African animals. We started by taking a train halfway around the zoo. From the train, we were able to catch glimpses of just about all of the African enclosures. We got to ooh and ahh over the elephants, giraffes, and zebras from a distance. We saw native Floridian birds (storks, I think?) using some of the trees in the African area for their nests! A whole flock of these huge white birds with long beaks were perched in one tree. Some had nests, others did not. The tree was alive with them, though. The train let us off very near the aviary we wanted to visit, which worked out well.

The lorikeets were fun. They seemed to enjoy hanging upside down by one foot, looking like brightly colored bats draped across the roof netting of the enclosure. We saw several of the free flying birds land on other visitors, but none of us were so blessed. We did, however, find one bright red ‘keet which earned the nickname of “Thief” from Jillian. The other birds would politely sip from the tiny cups of nectar we offered them as a treat. “Thief” felt we humans were not up to the task. He stole my cup, dumping the nectar to the floor and then dropping the cup with disdain. He did the same to Toph, taking the time to slurp the last remains from the mostly empty cup he’d stolen. That ‘keet had personality, that’s for sure. Other keets did not have food on their minds. I saw one pair obviously involved in a mating ritual. One had it’s wings half spread, it’s head was weaving back and forth and it’s beak was open as it hissed at its chosen mate, who ignored the theatrics.

Moving on to the African area, we finally came to the rhinoceroses. I commented to X that one of his favorite people loved rhinos. Toph smirked. “You remember why she started liking them in the first place, right?” I shook my head, unable to recall why she liked them so much. After the kids had wandered a few feet away, I whispered “Why does she like them?” “Rhinos have the largest penises of all land animals,” he said. I choked and laughed. I was still laughing about it several minutes later as we moved away from the rhinos.

Later, we ate lunch (zoo food = expensive food), we pressed some coins (a tradition for our little family) and we walked out the pier to look at the river. From there, we went to the vast kids Play Park to let them run free for awhile. When we were finally done with that, the only thing left on our plan at the zoo today was to see the Giraffes.

There was a wooden boardwalk leading to a raised platform for viewing the extremely tall giraffes. The view from the platform was vast, although the breeze had a nip to it there. We watched a baby giraffe trot after two older ones. We watched two others approach the platform for the leafed branches a zoo keeper was holding out to them. For $2.00 we could have fed the giraffes a branch too! We opted just to watch from the side. They were beautiful! Their heads stood as tall or taller than the platform we stood on. And then my gaze drifted back to the giraffes in the distance. There was another pair there, one short and one taller. The taller one wouldn’t seem to let the shorter one move away. The short one would step a few paces away, and the taller one would follow closely. It quickly dawned on me that mating was on their minds…or at least, that the tall one (the male) had it on his mind. Meanwhile, the children were still watching the two closest to the platform eat their goodies. The adults on the platform were slowly realizing the mating dance that was happening in the distance. Bawdy jokes were being passed around, spoken in polite euphemisms safe for children’s ears. Everyone was chuckling. I got a glimpse of parts of a giraffe I didn’t need to see, ever. Even from a distance, you couldn’t mistake the male giraffe’s … interest.

Soon after, our day at the zoo was over. After my day at the zoo, there is no doubt in my mind that Spring is here. The animals certainly seem to think so!

I’ve dealt with chronic depression ever since I was a teenager.  It’s often related to lack of sunlight, so it hits worse in the winter, but it’s not always to do with that.  Maybe it’s hormones.  I’m not really sure.  For all I know, it’s a food allergy.

What I do know, clearly and with intimate detail, is the way I feel when I’m in a low spot.  It’s starts to feel like I’m wading through pea soup fog.  It starts to feel like I’m all alone in the universe, that no one can help me and no one even CARES enough to help me.

Now, considering that I’ve got a wonderful husband who I’m quite sure loves me as well as two children who hang on me for attention every chance they get, I’m pretty sure (when I’m thinking rationally) that there are at least three people in the world who do care.  When I think logically, I realize that I have a large and loving family who cares, as well as many friends who love me.

The fog does not allow for rational or logical thinking.  It chews up all common sense and spits it out.  It blinds me to everything that I know is true in my world.  It even fouls the way I feel about other people.  So, I could be sitting there, sobbing my eyes out, drenching my husband’s shoulder as he holds me close.  But still, I’d feel totally alone and bereft.  Still, I’d be unable to tell that the love we’ve shared for ten years is not something that will fade away, that it’s not something that will break simply because I didn’t have the dishes done before he got home that particular day.  There is no logic to my thinking when the fog envelops me.

It’s frightening to realize how disconnected I do get.  When I can look back to the times when the fog in my brain was thickest, it all seems unreal.  I scoff that anyone could ever think like that, feel like that. Certainly, I couldn’t!  Certainly, I’m not depressed.  (Oh, a voice whispers in my ear, you know better!)  I tell myself I’m not so deep in the fog that I need to be on drugs like Wellbutrin or Zoloft.  I tell myself that a therapist would be of no use to me. I tell myself that I speak from experience there since not a single therapist I’ve ever gone to has ever been helpful.

The voice of reason, these days, breaks through the fog and speaks through my husband.  “Take the medicines. See the doctor. Go to the therapist.”  He must be sick of saying these things over and over for the last ten years, with mixed results.  At some point, he’ll get tired of supporting my black and blue spirit.  Ah. See, in that one sentence, I can see the breath of the fog sliding into my mind.  That’s how it works.  It insinuates itself into my otherwise rational thoughts, corrupting all that I think.

The fog itself doesn’t scare me.  It’s not even the low self esteem, the loneliness or the bitterness that bothers me (aside from the fact that they frustrate me!).  What bothers me is that I always wonder if or when the fog will ever drift lower than it has in years (since before my marriage).  It bothers to me to wonder if this period of depression will be the one that begins me on a journey of inflicting pain on myself, of physically punishing myself for being alone, of deciding that this family I’ve been nurturing for ten years no longer needs me and it’s time for me to move along and leave them to a life that is unblemished by the likes of me.

These thoughts scare me.  These are the thoughts that drive me to once more take the meds, see the doctors and try the therapists.  Maybe this time, one of these things will actually work.

It’s Friday! Yay! J has had standardized testing all week long (FCAT and NRT), plus a big project due in her Gifted class on Tuesday. She’s not at all worried about the tests, but the project has her stressing a bit.

X is back to his normal self: Into everything, singing constantly, running here, there and everywhere. We went to Mommy and Me on Wednesday and to Storytime on Thursday. It’s kind of nice to be back to our routine.

Both of the kids are looking forward to this weekend because they are going to see my parents for the weekend. X is particularly excited about it, especially since he found out his Papa has a motorcycle to look at now!

We’re all very sad, though, because my parents had to put their dog to sleep this week. Patches came to our family the summer after my brother graduated from high school (that was in 1991, for the record). She was an exciteable little dog, white with black splotches and a fluffy tail. She loved kids, but hated hair brushes. She was a middle sized dog who thought she was a lapdog. We all loved her very much and will miss her. She lived a long life and always had someone to love on her though.

The reason the kids get to go South for the weekend is because Toph and I are celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary! It’s really hard to believe that we’ve been together that long…it really doesn’t seem like it. We’ve gone through a lot together: lots of moving, job changes, children, illness and the death of our son. I feel like we’ve gotten closer with each storm we’ve weathered together. There’ve been times I worried about the state of our marriage, but Toph has always listened to my worries and we’ve worked through them together. I couldn’t ask for a better partner in life.

So, here’s to ten years together and to many more to come! I hope everyone has a great weekend!

Now I’m off to finish my housework so that I don’t have to worry about any of it this weekend!