"It's not the easy times that make you the person you're going to be, but the hard times and how you handle them." - My Father

It's been a while since I've posted because I haven't really felt like I had anything much to say. The normal goings on of the Spaz family haven't stopped - we've had karate, and horses, and girl scouts, and family get-togethers, and camping trips, and melt downs, and messes, and all of it. I just haven't felt like reporting everything.

But today I feel like I need to reach out to a friend. A friend who I've never met in person, but who has shared her life in the blogosphere and in private groups with me and on the wonderful world we all know as facebook. Sometimes our lives seem to parallel each other and I have a special place in my heart for her.

My friend is having a tough time with her child. Her oldest child, a senior in high school... she's traveling a path I have yet to travel... so what advice can I possibly give her?

She wrote today about how she told him "I give up".... words uttered in a moment of despair but words she doesn't mean. And she wrote about how she'll never give up. My heart breaks for her and for her child because, though I'm not in that place where I have a teenage child who is experiencing a particularly painful time of growing up, I remember being one.

My parents never gave up.

When I say that to my parents, when I thank them for never giving up on me, my dad always looks at me like he can't believe I would possibly think that he could ever give up.

"Of course we never gave up on you, Beth. You're our child."

But I grew up with other kids whose parents did give up. I had friends that had no safe place to go back to when they failed the first, second, or tenth time. I had friends who struggled and fought to stay alive... and some of them didn't. I can't speak for their parents - maybe they didn't have enough to offer, maybe they couldn't handle the pressures of their own lives and therefore couldn't be there for their children. I don't know the situations. I just know that I saw kids who were falling and no one was there to pick them up.

I gave my mom and dad a hard time growing up. I was defiant, I thought I knew it all, I made all the wrong choices. I went through dark periods of sadness and confusion. I pushed my family away, I told them I didn't need them. I caused them so much pain that there is nothing I could ever do to make up for it. I loved them, I hated them, I lied, I deceived, I did things I would be ashamed to write here.

But when push came to shove, my parents were there. They were always there to pick me up and try to set me back on course when I was ready for help. They never gave up.

I don't know if my mom and dad have any idea how much I appreciate them today. I don't know if they understand how absolutely proud I am to be their daughter. I don't know if words could ever express it.

My friend, my amazing friend who is fighting for her son, some day when he has pulled through all of this darkness and come out the other side a stronger grown up man, he will turn to you with an incredulous look on his beautiful face and thank you for never giving up.

Mom and Dad wanted to say something

A bit of dialog from the first evening with my mom and dad after they've returned from their North Carolina home:

Mom: Beth? You know how you write about things you don't like? Well I want you to write about something. I want you to write about shampoo bottles. Why don't they write it really big on the bottle? I want it to say SHAMPOO in really BIG letters!

Me: So you don't wash your hair with conditioner?

Mom: YES!

Dad: No, you know what you should write about? How hard it is to find cranberry juice. Just plain cranberry juice. I ended up getting some blend of three different juices. At least it was all juice.

I'm so glad my mom and dad are home again. I missed them so much. :)

Mamma Mia

When I was growing up my mom was an ABBA fan. It seems like it was every day that I walked home from kindergarten to find my mom vacuuming our little house with Super Trouper or The Visitors playing at maximum volume on the stack system in our family room.

The Piper would always have me picturing my storybooks telling the story of The Pied Piper drawing the rats out of the town. When the intro to The Visitors came on it always sort of scared me a little but then the song would really start and I'd have to resist the urge to dance along with my mom and her vacuum cleaner. Does Your Mother Know had me picturing my dad dancing with my sisters and I at all assorted events and Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! was perhaps the most confusing song of all to me... I mean really, why would anyone want a man after midnight? Sounded pretty scary to me.

When Slipping Through My Fingers would come on my mom would hug me and tell me how it reminded her of me. That song absolutely brings me to tears to this very day.

When I got older and went off to college I had the ABBA Gold CD and my best friend and I would listen to Dancing Queen so loud in the car we got stares from other people.

Now when I listen to ABBA I'm always reminded of my mom and how she used to sing and dance, her energy just lighting up every place she went. She doesn't do much singing and dancing anymore and I can't say I don't miss the way she used to be. But she still lights up a room with her smile.

A thief named Parkinson's

I don't think I've written too much about my mom here on the blog but the time has come when I'll probably be talking a lot more about her.

My mom was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease when I was about 15 or 16 years old. It started as a small tremor in her left hand and remained relatively minor for several years. Over the course of about 10 years, though, her disease progressed to a more advanced state. A few years ago, when traditional Parkinson's medications started failing her, my mom and her doctors decided she would be a good candidate to undergo a procedure called Deep Brain Stimulation. With this procedure a neurostimulator was placed in my mom's chest to transmit signals to a lead implanted in her brain.

When my mom had this procedure done she had trouble walking and controlling her tremor. She would occasionally just completely freeze and be stuck wherever she happened to be, which was sometimes quite frightening for her.

Last week the battery in my mom's neurostimulator died and we all got a cold awakening to how much her disease has advanced in the past few years. She is almost completely immobile. She is unable to adjust the way she is seated in a chair or lying in bed. Walking more than a few steps is nearly impossible and even those few steps takes what seems to be a lifetime. Not to mention difficulties with bathing and using the bathroom.

Today mom has gone down to Miami to have the battery replaced and is recovering nicely at home. But it has become apparent to the rest of our family that mom needs a little more care than she used to. So it has been decided that I will stay with her while my dad is at work and the Spaz kids are at school.

As much as I worry that there will be days when taking care of mom will be difficult for both of us, I am really looking forward to opening this new chapter of our relationship.