Back Row View

I remember the first post... About it.. .http://wasntlookingforfrogs.blogspot.com/2013/05/there-is-monster-under-my-bed.html (It's a good read) No one could or would say, THE WORDS. I felt a wee bit crazy everytime I'd say "But she's real forgetful."

But we were in for a all expenses paid show that would change our lives.  One none of us knew would change us all forever.

That post, oh so many years ago came from an incident in the grocery. I had run into grab something relatively stupid (a common thing for me at the time, and hasn't changed much today); low and behold, My Mom! I walked up behind her and giggled looking at the full cart of groceries and said, " Buying food for an army." Expecting a giggle and, "oh, no, Kristin." She stared at me, I was as I am today a stranger talking to her.



In my dad's defense when I first came to him and
said, "Dad, there's a problem?" I was being his daughter, DADDY's LITTLE GIRL. I was 'trying' to protect him.  I pushed, I pushed to hard.  For that I couldn't be more embarrassed by my own actions. I hurt him unintentionally.

See let me explain, my dad married my mom in all the ways you marry someone, until death do you part and all that jazz. I, however, screwed that part up in my own life. So when my mom started to show signs of what would be her final diagnoses I was ready and willing to jump ship.  Not my dad, for almost three years he took care of his wife by marriage.  Tantrums, accidents, late night wake up calls, explanations to friends and family to explain my mothers more obvious symptoms;  all while working a full time job.

I couldn't bare to see him hurt and so yet again, I pushed. But he married her for it all and no one can take that away from him.  The days since the diagnoses have not been any easier on anyone.  He devotedly takes her on dates since moving her to a care center better suited to help with her needs. Movies and MacDonald's make for a big deal date, and he pleases in telling me they had a wonderful time.

Though even these days are slipping away ever so quickly now, as the stubborn daughter it is hard for me to visit; more out of my own fear of the reality then because I can't.  Recently, I had to step in and take her to a doctors appointment, I mustered all my courage to drive the 10 blocks to pick her up, I was an old acquaintances to her now until I reminded her with a squeeze and a whisper of "Hi, Honey." my token introduction since she has gotten sick.

I see now we have only a little time with her. She soon won't remember me, remember my babies, or anyone for that matter. Time is unforgiving to us in this way.  I wish I could go back to the day in the grocery, and STOP TIME! I wish I knew she'd remember long enough to watch Aar get married but that's not going to happen.

The monster under the bed has stepped out, it is now ready to reveal itself to us all. It is wicked and unexplainably painful.

Soon we will all be memories to her; her words will be gone and all we will have left are OUR
memories. Alzheimer's hit us SQUARE in the face; my dad, my kids, our extended family, even me, the tough one. We can't get it back, not the memories, no time but we can be thankful for all we have had.

We can show her pictures of those 30 years as a teacher, 36 years as a mom of a daughter (argh), 18 years of being a grandma to 2 amazing boys and the 45+ years of being wife by marriage to Mr. T. I will remember for her, not the bad but everything, every moment, every second... The Village Inn dates, the late nights of just me and her, "momma come rub my eyebrows." (Something she did when I was scared.)

I will be her memories each and every day as long as I can.  It will never be easy, each and everytime I or we have to reintroduce ourselves it gets harder.  Alzheimer's is terribly cruel and heartbreakingly miserable in the long and short of it.  I can't imagine how it appears through my Dad's eyes. We, together don't have the cheap seats, we have a front row view and as much as, everyone thinks they want a front row view to life in its entirely, from our perspective, we would rather have a back row seat.

Uniquely Equipped

How do you explain being uniquely equipped, and not perfect and make it sound, well glamorous???

Frankly, you dont.

It is a concept not easy to comprehended but one I honestly think should be considered in its entirety as a reality with in all of us. There are those whom walk with an air of entitled perfection, more power to ya.

I'm a 36 year old divorced mother of two, still working for the establishment because my brilliant life plan is actually written in hieroglyphics and I'm absolutely convinced it won't be revealed until I reach the ripe age of 40 (some 1,593 days away) But I'm okay with all of this imperfection. I'm talented sometimes too talented, bet you didn't know that can be a thing.

As proud as I am of being talented and gifts, I doubt myself A LOT, I mean alot alot!!! There aren't enough alots for this statement.

People, Companies, Organizations come to me and however much value I bring to them, I feel like a secret is going to be revealed like the unmasking of Wonder Women. Recently, a friend and confidant reminded me, “KG, they have to pay for it to for it to have value.” Cue the mask ripe off ladies and gentleman, over Prosecco I revealed the truth. I still feel like a big fakermacfakerson(that's a technical term, people) no book smarts here, and she chuckled and said “sometimes, it comes down to who can fake it better.”

Now that we have revealed the reality in the situation we come full circle, being uniquely equipped at living our imperfect lives. I don't think many people realize, I feel like a faker (if you do I'm impressed.) Whether you are 5 lbs. over weight, don't put make up on everyday (don't judge,) or 100 other individual struggles glamorous lives should be left to movie stars and millionaires because as much as I travel weekly these days, it feels, I miss my bed, my kiddos, my friends, my sweetie and the moments in the middle. I don't do events or modeling entirely because I love the clothes (don't get me wrong though that's a bonus) but I too bare the cross of being jealous because sometimes a glamorous life to me is my kitchen smelling of pot roast, smashed loaded cauliflower (a personal household favorite) and fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. Jealousy can go both ways.

Recently, I flew to New York and did one of those once in a lifetime things. I met numerous ladies from all over the country and each were and are these unique gems of stunning abilities whether the culinary baker who moonlights as a stunningly amazing make up artist to the rec center director who’s primary clientele are developmentally disabilitied who she was learning duck faces from so she could engage with one special young lady. I was and am in AWE! Some had done this 100s of times, others like me just came along for the once in a lifetime of it all. We each had a unique expertise at doing and being us.

I often catch people saying I wish I was or did…

Do It…

And if it's hard, keeping F%$×ing doing it.

Years ago I opened Absolutely Kristin and I successfully was unsuccessful because remember that Super Hero Reveal earlier, I never realized I was uniquely equipped to create this kaleidoscope of impractical services and make them make sense. And that if I were honest I thought others could simply do it better, because they knew how to ask for money or had realized their potential far before I had.

In short or not so short for that matter, in recent weeks I have realized it's okay to take a small part of the world or frankly whatever you can get ahold of and make it you. Wear the red slippers if you can, sing on the stage because  you sing like Reba, or simply consider your options of being the most imperfect perfection you can be. Because if you are even a fraction like me, being uniquely equipped for this life is the absolutely most incredible adventure you can ever be on.

Go live it.