JGnat Says Hi (page 2)

nilfun

Your writing rocks. Looking forward to the next installment...

ugg

i am so glad you have found this site....you have been through so much....thinking of you!!!!

jgnat

Thanks, guys, for your ongoing encouragement. I want to write well.

Single Parent Extraordinaire

I am sure there were some at my church that wondered about what they had taken on. I came to the church with two little babies and a garbage bag of clothing. As I had recently come from the hippie school of hygiene, a sweet sister took me aside and explained the usefulness of razors and anti-perspirant. After the hygiene lesson the sisters worked on my self-image. I was advised to look in the mirror every morning and tell myself I was beautiful. And to keep my shoulders back. And I was given tons of clothing. And makeup. And furniture. The perm was a mistake, though. What can I say? It was the eighties.

My church life and work life intertwined. A young welfare mom, I volunteered in the church office now and again. That little bit of experience landed me my first clerical job with the government. As a Sunday School teacher to two-year olds, I learned all I needed to know about crowd control. I became a leader at church, working with the other single parents on small helps projects. That experience was invaluable when I became a supervisor. I still cringe when I see my colleagues treat staff poorly; as if all they had to do to keep good people was to threaten them with losing their jobs. Over the years I worked my way off welfare, saved my pennies, and bought a little house.

I realized one day that helping around the house spoke volumes more to my parents than preaching. When my parents finally split, I saw my father in a whole new light. Casing out his basement suite with single bare mattress and bare walls, I felt sorry for him in the first time in my life. Dad, you gotta get some pictures on those walls! Our relationship was restored, and he became my rock again.

Starting out a shy, beaten-down introvert, I found my redemption in helping others. I had no time for feeling sorry for myself, I had a little family to raise. For revenge of the evil done to us, I was going to live full of the grace of God. I strived to live the scriptural life. And made macaroni and cheese from scratch. Lunch was a creative adventure, with mixed success. The mini marshmallow-peanut butter combo was a big hit. My boy played dentist and picked off all the teeth. My boy was intense, deep. We would have late night conversations on the origin of black holes. By the time he was eight, he was begging me to teach him chess. By the time he was twelve, he was beating me. The peanut butter-and-quark sandwich was a flop. My daughter eyed all my sandwiches with suspicion after that. My girl took charge of her own raising, teaching herself to tie her shoes, and making sure her big brother brought home his notes from school. I worked hard, trying to do everything right. There were days I yearned for 40, when the children would be grown and I would have my own life. Now I realize I was living my best days, raising those two.

I have a few regrets. I was too hard over the little things. Candy doesnt really hurt kids. I wish I had taught my children to believe in fairies as well as Jesus. There was a smugness born of ignorance that I am ashamed of now. I truly believed that if I raised my children on biblical principles, that I would be able to avoid the heartache that ordinary parents suffered.

concerned mama

Fascinating!!! An intense story, but you made me chuckle...yeah, I had bad perms too and I remember Quark (a soft unripened cheese). Do they still sell it?

Keep it coming.

hamptonite21

looking forward to the rest of your story!

LDH

Where is JGnat, and more importantly, WHERE IS THE REST OF HER STORY?

Lisa

jgnat

Concerned Mama, intense but funny is what I am shooting for. Glad to hear I am hitting the mark. LDH, I hate cliffhangers, too! Problem is, writing takea a lot longer than reading. Your good-humored pressure is keeping me moving, though. Thanks. uggg, great to hear from you, hahaha. Nilifun, your drawings rock. Here is the next instalment.

A Parents Grief

When my boy was twelve, I had a dream. He was trapped inside a burning building. The firemen were there, but they were standing around watching. I screamed and cried at the top of the lungs; but nothing I could do would get them moving. I had this dream at a point of crisis with my son. He had become angry, withdrawn, depressed, suicidal. My boy described his day as wading through molasses. Just getting through the daily routine was exhausting for him. I had been cooperating with the school and pleading with the professionals . They all politely listened to my story, thanked me for my time, and handed me their business card. Until I had a stack of business cards half an inch thick. That was the closest I came to having a nervous breakdown myself. My tears finally helped get the right support for me and my son. What followed was two years of psychiatric counselling.

This experience permanently changed everyone in our little family. I stopped trying to do what everyone said was right. It was turning me in to a pretzel. I learned to trust my mothers heart in dealing with my children. My son found out there was absolutely nothing I wouldnt do because I loved him that much. That was very useful for later, when he was 19 and towered over me. My daughter put aside her own needs and dreams for those two years. She did what had to be done so that I could take care of her brother. That helped grow her in to a sympathetic and selfless woman, almost to a fault. After pouring out my problems to hordes of strangers, a dam burst inside my head. Now, whatever is in there, spills out. That can be both good and bad. Mom! How can I show my face at the office? They know everything! I developed a new perspective on life. Even though my church was going through a split, I could not involve myself in the pettiness. What did all of that matter when I could have lost my son? I picked up some unanswered questions that plague me to this day. I do not know why God did not intervene, zap my boy, and make it all better.

A side benefit of all those counselling sessions, is that I finally worked out my grief over my mom. I admitted I was angry at her for not being the mommy who raised me. She was a shell of what she had been, and I wanted my mommy back. I buried my old mom dead and gone, and went about discovering who this other woman was. As if she were a stranger I went about discovering her interests, and finding new ways to connect. My children were there to see her hug me, and watch me glow under her frail attentions. I saw my cards and letter arrayed on the walls, erasing earlier memories of chopped up childhood photos. My two strapping teens must have been bored to tears those couple of days I hung out with my mom, but they never let on. They told me later that they saw how happy I was, and agreed between themselves to make no waves. I was so proud of them, my heart was bursting.

Edited by - jgnat on 26 September 2002 0:20:32

pandora

The story of your life is GREAT JGnat. Keep it comin'. I keep coming back for more.
-P(J)

DeProgram

Your a good writer, ever write a book? Your life seems O.K. to me, Your not like 99 years old are you I can't wait that long for the end ,and were you are today.

jgnat

Self Discovery

My next challenge was to get my boy interested in school. About the only positive activity he kept up through that rough time was his drawing. I grabbed that little straw and ran with it as far as I could. We went looking for a High School with an art program. We found one of those rare teachers who demands much, but also gives much. My boy pulled together a portfolio, and got accepted in to the Art class. That class and that teacher kept my boy in school. My boy did everything, even Math, to stay there.

I could now take a breath and look around. I started reading lots of books like I did when I was a kid. I thought deep thoughts, and considered how our little family's experience changed me and my beliefs. I also did not want to follow the footsteps of some single parents, who collapsed when their kids left home. It is true that a single parent's load is very heavy. The funny thing is, we often don't know what to do with ourselves when the load is removed. I set about a plan to help along my children and me towards independence. I handed over the clothing budget, and held my tongue. My boy immediately decorated all his clothes with artistic bleach splotches. They were pretty funky clothes until they started to fall apart. My girl was hand washing her jeans every night. Picture a young Martha Stewart and Reverend Jim (Christopher Lloyd in Taxi) going to school together.

I took up art classes. It was the first time I took something that had nothing to do with being a provider or a parent. My sable brush does what I want it to do. I capture nuances of light and shade and shape on canvas. Every face has beauty and colour and movement, and I can see it now. I also fell in love with the art teacher. It was unrequited, of course. I knew that I was mixing up my passion for art with straight passion. After all, it had been quite a while....

Out of the blue, a young fella at church invited me out to his company party. We necked. I turned on. I left for small town Alberta. I was not running away. It was just bad timing. I cried in the truck all the way to Smalltown. Poor dad patted my back, there there, there there. Your kids will be fine on their own, they are adults now. It is time you started having your own life. He gushed about Smalltown. A place like this, you have a place and a name. He took in a deep breath. Smell the fresh mountain air! He had no clue my tears were for a silly young man who forgot to push the off button before I left.

Edited by - jgnat on 28 September 2002 10:23:20

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