Today, I admit I have little to say that will be light and fun. I’m on the verge of a rant.
The raccoons are tenacious. They were able to rip apart a screen in the garage door. All my dear chicks, now quite large, were all lying dead on the floor of the coop/prison this morning. I’d done a good job constructing their room, and installing the screen in the door, but not good enough. All thirteen of their bodies lay there, not a one eaten. Might be a lot easier had they been taken. What a waste. A bloody waste. I can’t move them, Elihu asks complete honesty of me, and he wants to be a part of everything. I can’t toss them and pretend they where enjoyed, used; I can’t pretend they didn’t die in vain. When we arrive home today, in the early evening, this will be news to him. We will face it then.
I have hours before me of preparing music charts for Elihu. He has a concert this weekend and simply cannot make heads or tails of the music as it is printed unless it’s literally a few inches from his face. May as well sing into a box. So, I’ve hit upon the method. It’s time-consuming and requires I type the text, and literally cut and paste it into the enlarged score. Then I must once again copy this to make the final page. And I’m out of black ink. So, this is before me.
Also today I meet with an elder attorney to strategize about mom and dad’s future. We’re hoping to save their few assets from the man. I don’t believe they have much to live on. At the age of 48, and only because of necessity, I will finally learn the financial truths of my parents.
My house is a wreck. Books, drawings, dirty dishes, unmatched shoes and recycling litter the floor along with spots of dry chicken poop. The laundry is once again a huge task. (Bed wetting continues, and with it gobs more housework than I should have if things were otherwise.) Sheets need to be changed. I have but one set for each bed, so must get them done and on the beds before tonite.
Today we meet with Elihu’s mobility coach. Must remember to check in with auto insurance guy, as his checks recently bounced. Worried my insurance can be canceled. The lawn is now thigh-high and with a backdue amount of $800 on my electric bill along with all the others, how can I afford to call my mower guy?
Driving to school, having kept the death of his chicks from him for the time being, I began to pout a little. I lamented how disheartening everything was. I wondered angrily, and aloud, how the hell it was I was supposed to make a living when all I can make is $40 an hour, and even then it’s just a couple of times a week? I mean how the hell can I catch up teaching piano lessons?? Elihu tried to calm me. Usually, I keep it all to myself. But this morning, maybe cuz of the chicks, I was going off the edge. Elihu, very much about the law of attraction, coached me. ‘It feels great to have our coop just the way we like it, and to have all our bills paid so easily’. Ok Jerry Hicks. Thanks. I tried to lighten up a bit, but deep inside I was beginning to slide again. Bad enough I was so duped, so poorly treated by my ‘best’ friend of two decades – and continue to be so treated – but then there was all this life. And I faced it alone.
So, am I alone? The stats of my blog would have me thinking I’m not. So out of the hundreds of readers, the dozens who read daily, where the hell are the shout-outs, the cries of ‘we’re with ya, we know just how you feel’?? Man, guys, today can this not be such a private affair? Can I please have a couple comment posts here? I am fucking tired of living broke and alone; my consolations these days are my son and the hope that somewhere out there, others are sharing our journey and lending us their emotional energy and fortitude. It’s great to know that my little posts are enjoyed, and it’s great to hear from old friends unearthed by the machine of Facebook – but what of all the rest? Testing, testing, is this mic on???
Ok. That’s all for now. My apron is on and I’m going to do my best today. Here I go…
The Hillhouse 
Hey Liz,
I’ve been hanging on every word, and look forward to new posts — I’ve found some great raccoon recipes I’d love to try out.
http://www.backwoodsbound.com/zracoon.html
Let me know if you’re interested. There’s no reason revenge can’t be delicious.
;)
d
Oh, Liz, I’m sorry you’re going through all this. You are a beautiful, talented, intelligent woman and Elihu is lucky to have you as his mom. Hang in there, honey. You’re in my prayers.
How often I’ve wanted to post a reply, but can never find the right words. You write so beautifully and truthfully, Elizabeth. Sharing your life with me (I know it’s not just me, but I often feel like you are writing directly to me), is a gift that I don’t feel I deserve. This love story that you are writing is a book that I can’t put down. This is an insight to a world that I don’t know. And I can’t pretend to know how you are feeling or what you are going through, so, it makes me feel helpless.
From the moment I met you I thought, “this is a strong woman.” And I was right. You are doing things out there that I could never do. I give you big, big props for what you’ve accomplished. And, sweet Elihu – a boy who lives in a dark world, but sometimes sees the world much brighter than we do. THAT is a gift that we all could use.
I wish you a future that get easier, but for now, I wish you a good day. One day at a time.
Thank you for sharing You with me.
Liz,
Your journey both breaks my heart in two and gives me hope. Your strength is like Buffy TVS times ten, and your grace is beyond my ability to compare anything in my known universe. YOU are the new super-hero. Having shouldered the entire financial situation of Emma since the age of fifteen (and she seems to be on the 9-year college plan!), I can say unequivocally that you are nothing short of a miracle.
Also- I hope you have an agent. Because you need to be published. Write away. (SP. intentional.)
Giant hugs and love being wafted to you. You are not on your journey alone.
I’m here. When I think of you, I remember the beautiful woman with the hearty laugh who understood Sam when few did, who patiently encouraged his klutzy hands to hit the right keys at the right time, and who gave him the freedom and confidence to make his own music. Remember the recital at the Unitarian church when the two of you debuted his duet? Someone as special as you is never alone, even when it feels like it. Love ya.
Liz, I am here, I hear your frustration and I want to help but don’t know what resources I have to contribute. If your call to arms is comments, I am happy to oblige. You deserve recognition for your thoughts, efforts, candid reflections. Be confident in the visits to your blog (and don’t ever be afraid to ask for comments). Personally, I’ve not commented in the past because (honestly) you write so well, I’m intimated! Most of the time, I’m spellbound and can conjure only a “hell yeah!” or “wow”. Please don’t let any discouragement settle into your being. This too shall pass and you will do more than survive, you will thrive.