WHY I STRONGLY DISLIKE THE WEATHERMAN

Living here in Charlotte, right between the mountains and the sea, it frustrates me to no end when the weathermen ALWAYS get it wrong in regards to winter weather. There is no use trying to make any sort of winter action plan based on the weather reports because as soon as you stock up on toilet paper, batteries and of course milk and bread it'll be 60 degrees and sunshiny. Over the last few weeks there's been a few threats of some winter weather. With our local forecasters even the tiniest of little hint of any sort of winter weather suddenly it's the lead off story on the news and all the reporters are standing in front of the slag truck garage. And then...NOTHING! It's probably my biggest pet peeve and I believe it stems all the way back to my childhood when I'd believe the weatherman when he would call for snow the next day. I wouldn't do my homework feeling save to assume there would be no school in the morning. Of course I'd wake up due to the sun shining across my sleeping face and have to go to school empty handed and dejected from the shame I was about to feel for not having my very important math assignment.

About this time last year our trusty weathermen were at it again - trying to warn us of some upcoming frozen precipitation. Being a mom, single mom at that, I needed to have an idea of what was going on with the weather for no other reason than to find some sort of childcare for my boy if I had to brave the ice storm to earn my living. Would school close? Would my work be ok if I stayed home? Would I be compelled to make French toast (hence the need for the milk and bread)? I just needed to be prepared. Some sort of accuracy isn't too much to ask for from a whole team of weather forecasters. Did I get accuracy? No. But I did get inspired to write about it. Due to this years missed marks, recently someone asked me about that little written rant so I thought I'd re-post it here...Originally written on 1/20/2009 and the follow-up written on 2/4/2009 here's my opinion of the weatherman...

WHY I STRONGLY DISLIKE THE WEATHERMAN 1/20/2009

They say that predicting the weather here in the Charlotte Metro area is a tough gig. Being located east of the Blue Ridge Mountains and just north of a place where oranges grow year round puts us in some sort of little bubble of space where getting the weather right is virtually impossible. Well, impossible if you're talking about snow. Let's face it, our tried and true local weathermen (and ladies), can tell you right down to the neighborhood where the jet stream will travel, will indicate by Power Doppler Plus the likelihood of widely scattered precipitation, go around town in a van they call the STORM CHASER and tell you when it's time to run for your lives ahead of a tornado. The dew point makes sense to a weatherman and they know the significance of the barometric pressure. They recognize La Nina or El Nino (whichever) when it's in a holding pattern over the midsection of the country and how a cold arctic wind might barrel down from Canada. They can tell you almost to the minute when the rain will start, will stop, how much or how little, the possibility of flooding and exactly when the Catawba River will crest and overflow it's banks. But mention "SNOW" and the and the otherwise highly intellengent, massively educated, respected weatherman might as well forecast just like my dear grandmother did when she would say, "My arthritis is flaring up, I think it's gonna snow!"

I watch the news everyday and I pay attention to the "seven day outlook" because I like to be in the know. Not one word of a single flake of snow was forecasted for my area during last weeks "Seven Day Outlook". Not a word, not a single snowflake TV weather graphic. So I was completely caught off guard yesterday morning when I woke up and heard our local predictors telling me that snow was heading our way! Snow! And they actually said this was the best chance we've had for significant snow in years! How exciting! But I know about the weathermen and how they tend to miss the mark around here when it comes to the white stuff and I tried not to get excited. But the more they talked about possibly 5 inches of snow, maybe more in the 'outlying' areas (where I live) the more exicted I got. No, No, No...my mantra in regards to snow is "I'll believe it when I see it". But the weathermen and their inflated predictions trickled down to the news anchors, to the talk radio people and then infiltrated the public in general. By the time I got to work I started rearranging my schedule, planning for Matthew's school closing, assessing my needs for milk and bread. I planned our snowman's location in our wintery front yard, I contemplated buying a sled for Matt, I made sure we had hot chocolate. And then I waited for the glorious snow to come fill up our town.

I went to bed late. I was a little excited because the news - and it's trusty weatherman - pounded the idea of a WINTER BLAST into my mind. Matthew was thrilled at the prospect of a day home from school. Finally, after looking up at the street light at least 100 times, straining to see the first flakes, I fell asleep. I woke up at 5 this morning, expecting to cast my eyes upon a winter wonderland only to hear the newsman say Gaston County Schools were OPEN! Damn. I fell for it again. Disappointed little Matthew will have to go to school, I will have to go to work this morning and I have more milk and bread then I know what to do with. But do I have snow? No. Well, barely 10 flakes, maybe. And that's why I strongly dislike the weatherman.

What makes the whole thing even worse is how the local morning news handles the "WINTER BLAST, 2009!" They've had "a crew on the streets since 4 this morning", they're sticking rulers into a dusting of snow and actually reporting it. I heard a reporter this morning talking about driving in the "winter conditions" by saying the roads were ok, the snowy buildups were on the grass and the shoulders of the roads. He actually "WARNED" us to stay off the grass and shoulders of the roads and we should be ok driving into work. I contend that if you generally drive on the grass and shoulders of the roads you shouldn't be driving - even in the clear sunshine. And does the misguided the weatherman say a word about his gross miscalculation of accumulation? No. He simply shows us on the "Storm Tracker Radar System" that the "worst of the arctic blast is behind us". The "ARCTIC BLAST" in my neighborhood looks like any other frost covered morning. Hardly a reason to send out "The Storm Chaser Team"! In other news this morning there's The Historic Inauguration of Barack Obama, A Cease Fire between the Israelis and Hamas in the Gaza Strip and a Salmonella Outbreak in Peanut Butter Crackers which has killed scores of people across the country but did we hear about any of it? No. We heard about how I-77 was WET yet open to traffic and moving along nicely. And we saw pictures "sent in by viewers" of peoples backyards. No wonder our Northern friends laugh at us - when a light dusting of snow is called a "WINTER BLAST"!

...and a few weeks later when the silly weathermen were at it again I wrote...

A COMEDY OF WEATHER REPORTING 2/4/2009

You might remember a few weeks ago I wrote about the weather men and how hard a job it must be to predict the weather here in the Charlotte Metro. I also talked about the news reporters and the big fuss they make over 10 flakes of snow. The whole "WINTER BLAST" of it all. Well, this morning our local informers strike again!

I will give some credit where credit is due...yesterday the weathermen (and ladies) were telling us of a massive winter storm was heading into the high country. Up to 8 inches of snow (constitutes a massive winter storm here in the South) was possible along with frigid temperatures, wind chills and white out conditions. They warned us to stay off the roads if you were in the NC mountains as the conditions were going to be treacherous. In the mountains only. The weatherman on channel 3 said it specifically when he told the anchors that Mecklenburg County might see a few flurries but hardly a reason to get excited and certainly not enough weather to close the schools. Then they went on about the news.

I was talking to a neighbor last evening about the dark, ominous clouds hanging over head, the cold wind blowing and the feeling of moisture in the air. We discussed how the weathermen got it wrong last time and how it would be funny if this time they predicted no snow in the forecast and it would manage to snow! However, I listened to and trusted my local meteorologists and felt safe assuming that no snow was in my near future. Even though the skies said otherwise. Based on what the weatherman said I did not get prepared for any sort of WINTER BLAST. I had no bread and very little milk but I was ok with that. I wasn't compelled to stock up on "supplies", I just went on about business as usual just like any other school night.

So again, imagine my suprise when I woke up at 5:30 this morning, turned on the news and saw how Charlotte had 3 inches of snow, there were wrecks all over the highways due to the winter conditions and all the schools were CLOSED! (Well, all of them except for GASTON COUNTY - where little Matthew goes, but more on that in a minute). What happened to "a few flurries but nothing exciting in the Charlotte Metro area? Thanks again to our trusty weather predictors everyone was completely caught off guard with this actual WINTER BLAST! Without expecting to cover some sort of frozen precipitation the news reporters hadn't been standing out beside I-77 all night long. Instead they had to navigate sheets of ice and snow covered roadways this morning to get to the money shots. On channel 36 this morning the reporter and his photographer were "heading to the scene" in the mobile news van when they hit a patch of ice on I-485, "did a 360" and landed in the median. They had to get a tow truck to get out of the ditch they were stuck in. I had to laugh when the reporter - all desheveled and missing his hat - then interviewed none other than the actual tow truck driver about the road conditions! It seems to me that perhaps some salt trucks should have been out there before the news van landed in a ditch. But no. Evidently the Department of Transportation listens to the weathermen when they say "nothing to get excited about here in the Metro area".

Meanwhile, during last months "WINTER BLAST" where the only white stuff on our roads was the salt put down - courtesy of the Gaston County tax payers - Gaston County schools stayed open. So, little Matthew and I braved the slag covered roadways and made it on into school that day despite every other school district in our area closing down. Still, Gaston County Schools took a little heat for that decision even though the the roads were DRY even before the sun came up. Some people complained and Gaston County vowed to be more careful with any future winter weather. This time around, every school from Chesterfield County, South Carolina to the North Carolina - Tennessee boarder is closed EXCEPT for Gaston County, who is "operating on a 2 hour delay". I guess the guy that makes the decisions for our school district is from upstate New York where the children go to school in 3 feet of snow!

The news has pre-empted the Today Show to bring us more pictures of peoples backyards - sent in by viewers, but has any weatherman apologized for the major blunder? No. They've just rolled up their sleeves and continuted to update the winter weather conditions brought to you by the Power Doppler Plus and basking in the extra attention. And the reporter - despite sending the Mobile News Room into a ditch has just said "The News Must Go On"! Indeed. You watch this afternoon - one of these channels will be saying "When Winter Weather Strikes you can count on us!" and "We were the FIRST to bring you news about the WINTER BLAST..." and so on. I'm going to hate to see us in some real, actual weather emergency. Seriously, this is one of the reasons the South gets a bad wrap!

Flowers on Father's Day

My mom and dad were married for 50 years. Well, 50 years and one day. (Dad died on the day after their 50th wedding anniversary) How they stayed together all those years is beyond me. Most of the time it didn't appear they even liked each other all that much! My brother and I just chalked it up to some sort of connection that we just didn't understand. And who were we to question it anyway? It worked for them. So mom and dad loved each other in their own "special way" and sometimes getting to witness the love was more than a little amusing!

At the house mom and dad had a welcome mat for the front door which read "One nice person and one old grouch live here". They both pointed at each other as the grouchy one. They picked at each other all the time and neither would concede to the other. Dad HAD to be right no matter what and mom, in her own mind, knew she was right but was never compelled to flaunt it. In turn dad felt like the winner in any battle of wills and mom felt victorious in that she 'let him think he's the winner'. It worked to keep the peace in the house - most of the time.

There was one point of contention between the two of them that had no boundaries - and that was gardening. My dad figured my mom wouldn't know how to garden if Mr. Green Jeans himself lived in her back pocket. He was "in charge" of the plants, the veggies, even the grass. She could have an opinion and he would listen to it - but consideration would be a stretch. Mom would suggest he "plant under the signs" - a phrase mentioned often in the Farmers Almanac. Dad would shrug it off and say "What sign? A Pepsi sign?" thinking there were plenty of ways to plant other than what some book written in the last century may have suggested. Mom would pick the 'suckers' off the tomato plants and dad would go behind her to make sure she did it right! I have to give dad his props - he grew lots of veggies in various types of back yard gardens. He had a green thumb. But there was one little plant that refused to do good for him though, and my mom lovingly gave him a hard time about it for EVER!

Beside the driveway there was a raised planter bed that, over the years, had been filled with many different plants and flowers. Daffodils, Marigolds, Irises, Candy Tuft, Verbena, Lantana, even Ivy has grown between the edges of the box. One Spring dad got a little rose bush from somewhere and decided to give it a growing chance in the middle of the planter. He put it in the ground, fussed over it and waited on it to produce big, beautiful roses. At first he figured it just needed more time, maybe more Miracle Grow, some Sevin Dust, more, more, more something - anything to help that little plant grow. But ... nothing. In fact, it sort of went backwards. It went from little bush bearing a few leaves to mostly a thick, thorny branch sort of awkwardly sticking out of the ground. It wasn't dead but it sure didn't look right. Just across the street the neighbor's award-winning rose bushes all full and reaching high, draped over the railings, and clung to the fence posts with giant blossoms exploding in colors of red, yellow, pink. Dad's plant was a prickly stick in the ground with the occasional aphid-chewed leaf clinging to life on the lone branch. Mom was compelled to point out the neighbor's roses any chance she got and she openly 'mocked' him (in good fun, of course) and his futile attempts to make that rose bush do something. Dad waited and worried over that little bush (well, bush is a stretch really - more like a rose "branch") all summer long and nothing ever came of it. Just a bunch of ribbing from mom - his gardening nemesis.

Evidently the little plant was a fighter. It lived through the winter to see another day. Springtime came and the little rose branch managed to spit out a leaf or two. Maybe this year would be the year mom would have to put a sock in it in regards to that rose bush. It would sprout out more branches and finally be able to call itself an actual bush. Dad would reign victorious, reaping its beautiful bounty of blossoms to rub in mom's face!!  But dad was starting to feel bad, and gardening - although top of mind -  was low on the list of things his weakening body could do. He could see the scraggly little plant from the kitchen windows but he didn't have the energy to get out in the yard. He would ask mom to go out and spray the poor thing for aphids. So that spring and summer she joined him on the project - do whatever it takes to give that thorny wannabe plant the satisfaction of bearing its fruits.  But again the end of summer came - and, nothing. And the little rose branch slept for the winter.

My dad died the day before Christmas Eve that year. Mom, my brother and I spent what time we could together getting mom ready to live on her own for the first time in 50 years and 1 day. There was so much to do ... but gardening was never considered. 

The next Spring came - and went - without fanfare. Mom didn't plant anything, we never even thought to plant anything. The Shasta Daisies came back all by themselves and so did the Black Eyed Susans. The Azaleas filled up with color and the Dogwoods quietly awakened from their winter slumber in petals of pink and white. And there in the middle of the mostly baron planter box beside the driveway was the little rose plant. Still a thorny stick in the ground with a few puny little leaves but this time at the top of the lone branch was a new shoot reaching out for some life. Not only was it alive but it was growing taller and a wee bit stronger. After a couple of days we started to notice new leaves, new baby thorns on its addition. Maybe, just maybe we thought we might get an actual rose this year. We left it mostly alone, only spraying it for aphids once or twice. We didn't need to do anything at all for that little plant - it seemed to have a mind of its own and it seemed as determined as any poor doing plant could be. Growing, it's leaves were bold and bright green and its one and only new shoot was strong and proud. And then one day it balled itself up at the end and became a bud! A perfectly shaped little rose bud perched at the top of the new, little stem and attached to what still looked like a jagged little stick poking out of the dirt.

It was mid June when we noticed that little bloom - few days before Father's day. It was such a hard time. I missed my dad so much and on top of the still very fresh grieving, mom had been going through some health problems and my brother had started developing some complications from his earlier battle with cancer. He was sick, mom was getting sicker and filled with worry and sadness and I was just so sad. We were all struggling while going through the motions. The reminder that was Father's Day was almost more than any of us could stand. I was wishing Father's Day would hurry up, get here and go already. When the day came I decided to stay home in bed. 

 That morning I got a call from mom. I figured she would call to check in on me, you know, to make sure I was ok. But she wasn't calling for that reason at all. She called to tell me that when she'd gone out that morning to sit on the steps and drink her coffee she looked down into the mostly empty flower box and right there in the middle of the dirt bloomed a single, yellow rose. All alone this little rose had burst open in all its glory, proudly displaying all of its leafy beauty! And I cried - not for sadness this time but for happiness; and I believed with all my heart that little flower was really my dad popping in to say HI and to let us know that he's still here all around us. And maybe getting the last word after all! A little vindication for all the abuse he got from mom over that silly little plant!

The next day my mom came to see me at work. She had a little vase in her hands filled with water and that precious little rose. It might as well have been a hand written note from dad himself. He sent me flowers on Father's Day and I cherished that little rose until the last petal fell from its stem. I even pressed the petals and kept them all - like little treasures or heirlooms. The next year we watched the much loved plant and waited for signs of life - but nothing. The little stick in the ground never woke up again - dying in the well fertilized ground dad had put it in a few years earlier. I didn't expect it to, really. It lived a perfect life and served its purpose, bringing a little reminder of love to a broken hearted family.

HAPPY FATHERS DAY

Dear Dad,
Tomorrow is Father's Day...I can't believe it'll be the 5th father's day since you've been gone. Wow, time sure flies. I'm doing well these days - have a good job and my health is holding up. I spend most of my time working and the rest of the time is with Matthew. Summer's here and I'm trying to get us out of the house a little more often. It's hard though, having to work extra hours to pay for daycare now that schools out. But we manage to spend some good time together and we have a lot of fun!

Matthew's at his dad's house this weekend - I thought it was a good time to go, being father's day and all. He doesn't get to spend a whole lot of time with his dad but when they're together I believe they have a good time. It's hard for me to let him go...and my house is incredibly lonely without him. It's occurred to me recently that I've really started to define myself as "Matthew's mom", not just "Jonna" anymore and everything I do has something to do with that boy! I don't shop for myself, cook for myself, watch a movie that I picked out, nothing. And so on the days he's not here I find myself watching Spongebob Squarepants and waiting on his visit to be up so I can go get him. My friend Jenn said I needed to start doing a little more for myself. Maybe she's right. Maybe it's time to start dating again, or at least maybe going out with the girls every so often. I don't know about that - but it's a thought...

Mom's doing ok these days except I think that most days she's got the blues. It was really hard on her when you passed away but that next Christmas morning when Bo passed away was something far worse for her. It's just not natural to lose a son. Dad, when she got home from Texas after Bo's funeral she was a different person and I imagine she'll never be the same. She's hanging in there and she worries so much for Matthew and me. I think if it wasn't for us she'd be ready to get on up there with you and Bo, her mom and her sisters. We had to come up with something to keep her busy after she retired. When I moved to my new place there was a huge yard and she could visualize a garden. So the very next thing we did was get a guy to plow up half the back yard and mom planted a massive garden! All last summer she kept saying how surprised you'd be to see her getting tomatoes off vines she did without your help and how much you used to make fun of her for "planting under the signs"! There might be something to that farmers almanac and the signs and all - because mom and I spent the summer canning stuff! That garden was amazing and last summer was great. I was out of work for part of it so mom and I got to spend a lot of time together. She taught me a lot about gardening, canning and making preserves, cobblers and that family, homemade soup. I was broke but I wouldn't trade last summer for the world! This summer hasn't been as good with me working all the time - and a lot of the time mom's just not been up to getting out in the garden. The plants are growing though and any day now we'll be eating tomato sandwiches with Duke's Mayo!!

I can't even begin to tell you how much I miss you dad. It's hard not being anyone's favorite anymore. Not a single day goes by that I don't think of you in some way, wished I could call you to tell you something or ask your advise. And goodness knows I hate it that you're missing Matthew - I know how much you looked forward to his coming into the world and how much you loved him when he finally got here! Oh! That reminds me...I wanted to thank you for that letter you had written to me, the letter that we found in your brief case after you were gone - thanking me for bringing you Matthew. Well dad, you're welcomed! I'm so SO grateful you got to spend a year with him. In the letter you'd mentioned how you wanted to be there for his first day of school and his first tee ball game and his first fishing trip. All of those things happened in this last year and if being in my heart counts then you were there!

I hoped you could see him - proudly finding his name on his desk on his first day of school. And our fishing trip! What a laugh! It was fun but I'd forgotten how icky it was to break a worm in half with a fingernail. GROSS! Really wish you could have been there for that! Oh, and I was wondering if you're the little spot of light that keeps showing up on our pictures on Christmas morning? It's the strangest thing - and it's only on Christmas mornings and it's always just over Matthew's shoulder. Hmmm.....

Saying I hope you're doing ok would be silly of me - I'm sure Heaven is a wonderful place! I do hope that you and Bo are spending a lot of time catching up. Please give him a big hug and kiss from his kid sister and tell him his kids are all doing well. And dad I really wished it was as easy as writing you a letter. My heart is empty and there's saddness that I can't wipe away. Nothing's the same at all since you've been gone and I don't believe I've fully come to terms with it yet - five years just isn't enough time. I miss you so much. I miss our talks out in the little building and I miss playing the banjo with you. I miss your truck and your advise and your sense of humor that mostly went over my head. I miss picking out cards for you for fathers day and I miss talking to you about the news. I found that guy that used to sing with Jimmy Swaggart Ministries and I just wished I could "really" tell you about it. Nobody else that I know would even care but you would be blown away to know that guy lives in North Carolina now and I even got an email from him! And I wished I could ask you where to get the flourescent light bulb for the juke box. It's burned out and it's a size that they don't seem to make anymore.

I hope that on your last night here that you heard me while I was talking to you. I sat by your bed all night, holding your hand and talking to you about anything you may have wanted to hear. I've done what all I promised you, looked after mom, took care of your treasures, read most of the Billy Graham book, pulled for Jeff Gordon for a year (as hard as it was...) and I've raised Matt as best as I could so far. And I hope I've done right by you and mostly I hope you're proud of me.

I love you so much dad. I'll try to stop by the cemetary soon with some new flowers and the lastest picture of Matthew. Happy Father's Day and I'll be writing more soon.
Love,
Toot

Being A Single Mom In a Time When It Takes A Village

Earlier today I wrote about Matthew's first tee ball game and how fun it was. But I also mentioned in that blog how for the last couple of weeks I've been a little on the blue side. It's been a rough few weeks. Just life, I guess - and I feel like writing about it now.

Over spring break I took Matthew down to visit with his dad. We'd planned to meet at our usual meeting spot and they would have him from Wednesday through Easter Sunday. I was excited about having a day or two to myself to do whatever I wanted to, eat in a restaurant that doesn't have a sliding board as a centerpiece or spend an evening with grown up friends without the kids in tow. I wanted to be able to go to bed without worrying about homework or if school clothes were ready for the next day. Just all about me for the next few days! When I dropped him off I was ok. By the time I got back home I felt like I'd forgotten something - like that feeling you get when you can't remember if you locked the front door. I did what I wanted to do - had lunch with a friend, a night out with the girls, got a bunch of errands done with minimal effort, etc. But I was missing something. And the house was so, so quiet without him. And I was lonely. It's been nothing but Matthew and me since he was about 1 so it's a big transition when he's not around. It's almost like living with a piece of your heart missing. He had a great time with his dad and I was glad about it but I was so happy to get him back home!

Then, there was another death in my family - one in a long line of family losses. This time it was my uncle, my mom's brother-in-law and an all around good guy who worked through his chemotherapy and at age 78 was working 2 weeks before he died. My extended family used to be huge and we all did everything together. All the summer beach trips, Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, mountain picnics were packed full of aunts, uncles, cousins, grandmas, brothers and sisters, even friends of cousins were like family. So common to be around lots of family, even every single weekend my mom and I went down to Spartanburg to my aunts house just to spend the night with her and my cousins. None of that exists anymore and now the only time we're all in the same room is at funerals. We don't even have Christmas dinner together. At Doug's funeral I sat there looking around at how many of us are not around anymore - and I wondered who was next. Which one of my dwindling little family would we gather for the next time. And then I thought about my dad and my brother and how much I missed them both and the utter sadness I still feel about losing them both. And I thought about my dearest friend Mark and how much I wished I could just call him to let him know about Doug. And I was sad for Matthew - who'll never know what it's like to be a part of a big, loving family.

Matthew had never been to a funeral before and I was proud of him for the way he behaved but I'm not so sure he knew everything that was going on. In fact when it was over he said - loud enough for everyone to hear him - "I love funerals"! He may have had a nice time but something must have stuck with him. A few days later I got sick with allergies and a cold and I lost my voice completely. I could move my mouth and give it the old college try but not much sound came out. More like a crackled, breathless wheeze was all. I was out in the yard trying to get Matt home from the neighbors house one day last week. I couldn't vocalize loud enough so I just started clapping my hands and waving a lot. I finally caught his attention and he headed home with a worried look on his face. He said "Mom, what's the matter?" And I strained to whisper, "Nothing honey, Mama's just lost her voice." And he threw his arms around me and started crying saying, "I don't want you to die!! Who's going to take care of me if you die?" God bless him for worrying about me like that - he didn't believe that I wasn't dying for the next several days it took me to get my voice back. Every time he saw me he would ask me if my voice was back yet and if I was going to be ok. Bless him.

Meanwhile, I was very sick for a few days - and had to keep working. There's no rest for the single mom and if I miss one day of work I have trouble getting all the bills paid on time. I was sick and tired and then I had to take Matthew to his tee ball practice. It was the first practice I'd gotten to go to - since mom would take him on the Saturday practices while I was working. I was not feeling well at all and my voice was gone but I was excited to go. And then a real sadness came over me. Not sadness for me but sadness for my boy. There were moms and dads out at the ball field watching their little ones learn the game. There were people out there in folding chairs, sharing dinner, taking pictures. There was a sense of family and a feeling of community - friends and neighbors chatting, kids knew each other and babies toddling around in the grass. And then there was me. I sat there alone. No one talked to me, no one pulled for my kid but me, no one sat up in their chair when Mattie got up to bat. I couldn't even yell out some general encouragement because of my missing voice. And I was so sad for him. My dad would have been there. My brother would have been there for him. Even my friend Mark would have come but they were all gone. Mom would have come but she was under the weather that day. It was just me and I hoped I was enough for him. Not just on the bleachers at ball practice but for his life. I'm his "family" and it wasn't going to be like it was when I was a kid - when even the aunts and uncles would come out to support me. Somebody needs to pull for that kid. What if I did die from Laryngitis? Who would pull for him on a Thursday evening at baseball practice?

And that brings me up to yesterday (and the blog I posted earlier today) and what a wonderful day I had at the tee ball game. I can see what a good boy he is and I can see the good I'm doing in him. And I know that Matthew being a part of a team means the whole team pulls for him. Happily my voice is also back and I was able to yell out his name in support of him! I worry about Matthew and my ablility to raise him alone in a time when it "takes a village". I couldn't ask for a better ex hub in his dad - he does what he can considering we're 5 hours apart and my mom is really an extention of me. But day in and day out though, it's just me and what a responsibility that is. I just hope I'm getting it right.

I've had a real up and down last couple of weeks. Mostly down, I guess and sometimes I just feel that way. The blues creep in, a little cloud or a hint of just sadness and it takes me a minute or two to shake it. Throw in the death of an uncle, being sick, having a sick child, general work worries and some round about frustrations - some days it's hard to get out of bed. But like they say in the entertainment business - "The show must go on" is also true in life. I'm happy to be back on my blog today and today I feel good. Really good! It's a beautiful day, Matt's good health is coming back and overall life is good. A little sleep deprived from the last couple of days but over all really good.

I wanted to talk about yesterday and how important a day is was for Matthew - and a real important day for me. It was Matthew's first Tee Ball game. A coming of age moment for a 5 year old boy. I was so excited about it in fact I had trouble getting to sleep the night before. I know, that's a little silly but it was true, I was so excited to see my little boy in a uniform, dipping his cleat-covered toes into America's Game, standing on the field in the shadow of the Star-Spangled Banner a part of a team and in the spirit of competition. My kid had put a lot of work into his practices, he and I had spent afternoons shagging fly balls and scooping up grounders in our back yard. I taught him the fundamentals of the game. And finally the time had come for him to don his new gear and get out on the dusty diamond.

Unfortunately Matthew has been under the weather the last few days. With a combination of allergies, asthma and a good old spring time cold Matthew missed school on Friday. He woke up with a wicked cough. My mom kept him for part of the day and by the time she brought him to me at work she suggested he was well enough he could have gone to school! I understand where that comes from because even on Matthew's sickest days he can give you a run for your money! But just the same, he stayed with me at work until my shift was over and then we headed home. Sure enough he did seem to be feeling a lot better - and with the help of Benedryl, Singular and Robitussin he wasn't coughing nearly as much. He headed outdoors to play with the neighbor kids and by the time he got back in he was coughing so much I thought for sure he was going to hurt something. I felt so bad for him. You can see in his face when he's really not feeling well and it was one of those looks. So I dragged out the nebulizer and started up the hourly breathing treatments. I was hoping we could head off the full blown asthma attack with his Albuterol.

He wanted to play his ball game in the morning and I wanted him to but I wasn't going to send him out in the dusty, pollen covered morning unable to breathe. That's no good. My poor baby, that night, coughed so much he spit up in the bed. It was a long night for him and for me - I was changing the bed and doing laundry in the middle of the night and doing the breathing treatments every time he would wake up coughing. Eventually he settled down and finally got some rest. Maybe we'd managed the asthma spell and hopefully he would feel better come morning. And indeed he did feel a lot better! The wheezing had stopped and his cough was dormant. We did a breathing treatment for good measure, hopped him up on Benedryl, dressed him in his oversized uniform and headed down to the ball park!!


Now sleep deprivation is a funny thing and it affects people in different ways. For me - an overly senisitive, emotional person in the first place the more tired I am the more emotional I become. Yesterday at the ballgame was no exception! We stepped out of the car and headed towards the field and right away I was overcome with emotion! All of a sudden I missed my dad, remembering that Matthew's little league game was one of the things he wanted to see. How proud my dad would have been of this little boy of mine and I so wished he could have been there to see him. I took my place on the front row of the hot, metal bleachers right along the first base line and wiped away real tears (I know...but I can't help it!), took a deep breath
and commenced to pulling for my kid, 2nd baseman, number 40. SO PROUD!


Now, as far as teeball goes, there's not a whole lot of actual technique or athletic skill that's involved. But I pulled for that kid like he were in the majors. Turns out I had a little room to be proud! He fielded a ground ball and threw it 'towards' first base! That's what his coaches asked him to do and that's what he did and when it happened I lept to my feet screaming "GOOD JOB MATTIE! GREAT PLAY!" And then all of a sudden I remembered myself and turned around to apologize to the others in the stands. And they laughed and understood! But Matthew's cheering section is pretty small (my mom and myself) and I wanted to make sure the boy knew I was proud of him. He'll never know just how proud - but I wanted him to hear and feel special. I think he did!

At first I wasn't a fan of "every kid plays, no score keeping, every team wins - no team loses" kind of system that some of the kids sports leagues have developed. When I was a kid there were winners and losers. You had an opportunity to be both and that was good. I wanted Matt to know how to win gracefully as well as lose without a crushing blow to his self-esteem (or whatever some feel losing does to a kid). Regardless, I've completely changed my mind about that. Sitting in the stands it was easy to see who the better team was without benefit of a score and it just didn't matter. I found myself pulling for the kids on both teams and it was fun seeing any type of play - especially if it resembled any form of baseball! There was a little boy on the other team that limped up to the plate. He was the last batter of the inning (again, not really up with 'outs') and he got a hit. I didn't realize it until he got closer to first base but he had some sort of real disability. One of his little arms were drawn up and his toes dragged the ground when he ran. But he got a hit and he was running and he was smiling. The coaches yelled for him to run - keep running, all the way home. And he did and the crowds on both sets of bleachers cheered for him. He made it home and raised his arms in the air with a little boys fist pump in defiance of his disability. The coach patted him on top of the helmet and the kid was as proud as he could be. And I cried. And now I get it. Sometimes score really doesn't matter and it's not just a game.

The end of the game came at the end of the second inning. They all lined up and did the good game hand slap. Matt collected his snack and juice box and we headed home. I told him he did great and how proud I was of him. He didn't have a lot to say about the game but was thrilled with the snack he received afterwards! I have the feeling that his little teeball game didn't mean nearly as much to him as it did to me. I was so proud of my boy for paying attention during the game, not having a meltdown tantrum (like at least 3 other kids did) and finishing the whole game without complaining or having to use the bathroom. He did what he was told, he listened to his coaches and he managed to resemble a baseball player! Did I mention how proud I was? I can't wait for next Saturday!

Matthew's Got Talent

When I was a kid I wanted to be a singer when I grew up. I always thought I was good at it and my dad thought I was the best. I don't know if I was really good or not but I sure felt like it when I was 'practicing' in the shower. The closest I ever got to singing professionally was occasionally sitting in with my dad's bluegrass band and later hosting my very own Karaoke show. Barely a living and hardly a "star". The older I got the less likely my dream of stardom was bound to be reality. In fact I pretty much stopped singing all together. But since that was all my heart was ever set on - once that dream faded away I didn't really have a clue what I should do or what "else" I wanted to be. I just was. I settled in the veterinary field - a nice job but hardly glamorous. And so that's what I "am" - I'm a professional animal hospital employee. I like it just fine and it pays the bills. Is it what I've wanted my whole life? No.

It's funny how life becomes what it does whether we like it or not. And life certainly has a way of becoming itself without any outside interference. There was a time when I thought I'd die if I couldn't sing. I wanted to be famous and I felt like I was a person that everyone needed to know. I was going to be a singer, nevermind I didn't have a plan to make that become reality. There was no Star Search, no American Idol shows, it was just going to happen for me - famous singer. It never occurred to me that it wouldn't be my future. And it certainly never dawned on me that I might become a mother instead. It never crossed my mind - I didn't even want to be a mom. But I am, and I'm blessed and so happy about it and now I sing to my son.

When Matthew was a newborn I would rock him for hours singing to him. I didn't know many lull-a-byes so I just sang whatever came to mind. One day I had no idea that dad was listening to me when I heard him laughing out loud - I'd been singing to my precious infant baby "Still Doin' Time in a Honky Tonk Prison"; a George Jones classic. Um, ok. Matt didn't mind though - and dad got a good laugh over it. At least my experience as a karaoke girl wasn't an entire waste of time! These days we sing his homework, his name, his punishment - anything we can squeeze into a tune. I've also gotten him several instruments and a microphone just hoping he'll catch the music bug. This morning he was singing his heart out in the shower and I applauded him when he was through. Of course he was mad at me for listening to him and told me to get out! I'm hoping with a little encouragement (and pushing and prodding on the part of his wanna-be crazy stage mom) maybe he'll be the next American Idol (about 11 years from now) and I can live out my dream through him! Now that life has done it's thing - and made me what I am today - I can't imagine anything but motherhood! Mom and veterinary technician is what I am and one of these days - with some talent and a whole lot of luck Matthew can be the famous singer and I can quit my veterinary hospital job and get on his payroll as manager! Maybe the dream is still alive?

Traveling Matt

Before little Matthew came along, the Hub and I would go places. We would do things like jump in the car at midnight and drive all the way to the Blue Ridge Parkway just to better see the stars. Or once we decided on a whim to drive 8 hours to Kentucky for a NASCAR race. We literally said "Hey, let's go to Kentucky" and the next thing we did was throw some clothes in a bag and left the house. We did that a lot and it made our life interesting and fun. When the baby came, that stopped. We took him places but the spontaneity was gone. We'd plan, pack everything but the kitchen sink, stop a hundred times along the way and by the time we got to where we were going I was a nervous wreck just from the drive! Our little last minute, drive til we get to somewhere trips were a thing of the past. Subsequently the marriage was also becoming a thing of the past. . .

I remember one day clearly, Matthew was about 2 years old and was having a wicked tantrum. He was melting down right in front of my eyes, kicking and screaming, throwing things, even trying to pull the blinds off the windows. I don't remember the reason for the wrath of the terrible two but it was a whopper. I couldn't get him to calm down and since I was alone in this epic drama I couldn't run away so I figured I'd try the old "car ride until he falls asleep" trick. He settled in his little car seat and off we went. I didn't know where we were going and I didn't care. The payoff that time was not going to be the destination but the benefit of the ride. Matthew liked riding in the car and he almost always took a nap. On that first little trip of ours we landed in Blowing Rock, North Carolina. We played in the park, we sat in the grass and we strolled around the pond. Matthew threw his Cheerios to the ducks who were surprisingly close to his little toes! We went onto Main Street and had ice cream from Kilwin's and we window shopped - Matthew paying close attention to all things shiny and colorful. Not once did he fuss or cry or throw anything at me. We had a perfectly pleasant afternoon. Blowing Rock was already one of my favorite places and this little trip was exceptional. We had a nice time, just baby and me and it occurred to me then that "family vacation" didn't have to look like it did when I was a kid!

When I had settled in to my new role as working, single mother I had almost resigned myself to work, home, work, home, weekend - clean the house. Work, home, work, home, weekend - clean the house. It didn't occur to me to do something fun or go somewhere. Almost like a vacation was something "families" did - you know - mom, dad and kids. It was almost like I was waiting for a new, "proper" family unit to be in place so we could pick up where my last family unit left off. But finally it dawned on me that I might never be "proper" or for that matter, who says that myself and my kid aren't enough to be considered a 'family'? And with that realization and armed with a camera and some mapquest directioins to some destination we were off! Since our little impromptu trip to Blowing Rock that day Matthew and I have been about a zillion places from parks in our back yard to places a couple states away. Generally if we could get there within a few hours drive we'd go - stopping at interesting things along the way. I'd loosely plan the bigger trips but mostly I'd decide that morning where we'd be going. I tried to stay away from the "planned right down to the minute" kind of excursion, we'd just go - and let the day lead us. And we've had the best times.

Spring is trying it's best to get here - and this past weekend was beautiful. The sun and the warmth have a way of bringing on that urge to go somewhere. I went to work Saturday morning knowing I wanted to take Matthew somewhere that afternoon. By the time I got home I'd decided Wilmington, North Carolina would be the place. We could go see the USS Battleship and maybe see the ocean. It was about a 4 hour drive according to Mapquest so I figured we'd just go down Saturday, stay the night and come home some time Sunday. And that's what we did. And we had the best trip!

If I would have planned it it wouldn't have been as good! We got into Wrightsville Beach, just past Wilmington at dark and got a hotel. I didn't realize it until the next morning that our hotel was right across from the inlet and a beautiful marina! The sun was coming up over boats in the harbor and the view was spectacular! I had no idea! I even got a big discount on the beachy themed room because the guy just dropped the prices. That morning we got to the USS North Carolina FIRST and were the only people on the whole ship!! Again, score. After our ship tour Matthew wanted to go down to the ocean. I wasn't familiar with Wrightsville Beach but it turned out to be lovely - we spent a couple hours on the beach, had some lunch at South Side Grill and played some video games at the pier. We could have gone home that minute and we would have been satisfied with our day - but we had one more stop to make. Since being in town people kept asking us if we were there for the Azalea Festival. Nope, didn't even know what it was - but I figured we were there, we might as well check it out. We parked at the River Walk in downtown Wilmington. There was a sea of people! Bands, food vendors, shops, entertainment. We walked along the Cape Fear River seeing all there was to see. We even took a boat tour of the river and had an amazing look at the Battleship from all sides, impressed with its sheer size and beauty (in a battleship sort of way). We wrapped up our day in historic downtown Wilmington with a chocolate Italian Gelato for Matt and Espresso for me (extra juice for the drive home!) All and all it was just general fun and one of the best trips we'd had in a while.

The little day trips or weekend get-a-ways have become "our thing", a part of who we are. I'm hoping they also become wonderful memories for Matthew when he's all grown up and looks back fondly at his childhood and the "family vacations" just like I do looking back on mine.

Yesterday a friend of mine suggested I come to Blogger.com and start a blog. I said "Ok, I'll do that". I saw my friend earlier today who had placed me on his 'list' - his 'bad-list' for not coming in here right after we spoke yesterday and starting a blog. I had no idea he meant go and do it RIGHT NOW. And so, in order to get off the 'bad-list' of my friend Kevin, here I am! Officially I've started my very own blog! I'm happy to be here!

Let me introduce myself (and bear with me, I'm new here)...my name's Jonna Bingham and I'm a single mom to a rambunctious, full of life, very talkative, smart, beautiful 5, almost 6 year old handful of a boy. And I love him very much. Before you go, "Oh Great! Another blog about someones kid should be exciting!" here me out. We're special! Seriously. Wait, I mean it! Well, ok. Maybe not special but at least interesting. Or at least I've been told.

I used to listen to a guy on talk radio who would continuously dismiss single moms as careless women who just ran around having babies at leisure, living off the government and producers of the next generation of street thugs and criminals. If some kid got into some random trouble and made the news this talk show host would not fail to mention; "Oh, and his father wasn't around" or "and I'll bet his mother doesn't even know who his father is". This radio guy would make me so mad when he would generalize single moms as some sort of thoughtless tramps with no control of their destined for failure offspring! Every time he had some topic related to single parenting he couldn't help himself but say the hurtful and mostly wrong things he believed. Likewise, I couldn't stop myself from firing off angry emails to him. He never responded to my complaints and I didn't expect him to. But I felt better when at least I voiced that not all single moms are 'bad'. In fact, as far as I'm concerned, I think you'll be hard pressed to find a harder working, sacrificing and dedicated woman than a single mom. Not just me - but the other moms I know who are going it alone. I interviewed for a job about a year ago with a man who, after asking me all about my son, my daycare, my living arrangements, etc, said to me, and I quote, "You're what we're looking for but single moms just come with so much baggage". I left from that interview painfully aware of the perception of a single mom and even more steadfast in my determination to make it.

I never intended to be a single mom - well who does, really? I did it in the (traditionally) right order - dated, marriage, career (that's a stretch) then pregnancy. We didn't 'plan' to be pregnant but we were none the less thrilled about our little blessing. The baby came and all was fairly well and then - without warning - BLAM! A big wrench in the spokes! The wheels came off the marriage and by baby's first birthday it was all over but the crying. We separated and I was left to it. Raising a baby boy on my own - I don't believe I even missed a beat. I sold a house, went back to work, found a church daycare, found a home to rent, moved in and started a new chapter in mine and Matt's life! And I'm fine! Matthew and I are doing great and if my radio friend could see us he'd swear there's a man stashed around here somewhere helping me! It might not be the ideal situation but it's ok and I feel sure that my son will not grow up to make America's Most Wanted.

Today I had a parent/teacher conference and thankfully Matthew's not the worst in his class! In fact, I'm happy to report that academically he's ahead of the game! He talks too much according to his teacher and he wants to be the center of attention. I understand that - I too feel like the world spins right around me. And his dad talks for a living. He is a complete and equally balanced mixture of the ex-hub and myself which if handled properly could very well grow up and be something spectacular (or some sort of history maker one way or the other. . .). I'm so proud of him! His teachers like him and he's only been to the principle's office twice. I think he's going to pass kindergarten with flying colors - not bad for a kid who spent a few years being watched from 9 to 5 by the church ladies funded by his working moms hard-earned paycheck.

I have so much to say about my little son, our life together and the 'art' of single parenting. Matthew's a funny little boy and always makes for interesting conversation. I think I want to use my new blog to talk about all things single parent - the fun stuff, the not so fun stuff, the lonely times, the longing and the triumphant. I'm thankful for my friend Kevin for suggesting I use this outlet, even more grateful that he verbally kicked me in the rear to get started already. I've enjoyed writing for you tonight - dear reader and I hope you'll come back to check on us often!