Curse You Monkey's Joe's!

Monkey Joe's has been a staple in my family for a long time. It's a fun place where kids can get their bounce on and parents can chill a bit and not worry about their kids escaping the building undetected.

Yes, there are the occasional obnoxious children that most parents would like to see removed from the jump areas, but it's not usually terrible. In fact, the one annoyance that I've had each time was guiding my children past the snack bar. Occasionally, Groupon comes out with the offers for admission and $4 at the snack bar.

That's where this tale starts. I purchased said deal a few months ago to have in my back pocket for a day that they needed something to do and I was out of ideas. Next week, I have to go back to work for my teacher workdays, so I was determined to make sure the kiddos have some fun this week. Today became the Monkey Joe's day since the weather was crappy, littlest one has some sort of summer cold, and I generally feel like I've been run over by a truck and dumped off a cliff.

We got inside, children were excited, and my oldest headed off to the "grown-up" area for the free WIFI. We even ran into someone we knew. I didn't notice them until she pointed them out to me. There, to my horror, was a bank of arcade games. AHHHHH! I don't know one parent that squeals with excitement when we spy these somewhere. Usually, we all eye roll in unison and do our very best to redirect our children, knowing in vain it won't work.

So, that's where my hell began. The girl had plenty of allowance saved, so I wasn't worried about her - plus, since she's 6, I still have a HUGE say in how she spends it. The issue was the boy. Yes - my Autistic boy who looks at spending money as a national pastime. In one breath, he's going to save his money to buy a new electric train, but as soon as any random thing catches his attention, he's spent the money. When we next venture out for errands, if he has no money burning a hole in his wallet, there are tears, pouting, and general jerkiness towards the youngest. It's gotten so bad, that I've been taking money away each week to save for the last series of Mixels, because he is obsessing about buying them, but if I don't he won't have the money when the time comes. Then we all endure the rantings that equal a teenage girl in all of her melodrama (which is not a fair portrayal of all teenage girls, but you get the drift).

So after the wheedling began to play games, I said in my best mommy voice that they had to pay for them out of their allowance. Quickly, they both agreed, eager to waste their money. Boy and I had a special conversation about what he could spend and not a penny more because we had to go to the shopping mecca of Target also. I've been on the receiving end of the bad behavior mentioned above one to many times to not have him spend his money before we go. Of course, he agreed so off we went.

Not only are they the garden variety arcade games, BUT, you have to get the money loaded onto the plastic card. Did I mention that they charge you $1 for said card? Fabulous right? I didn't even realize it until some nice lady in line told me about it - there is no signage about it anywhere.

Cards loaded, they were ready to go. It took all of 5 minutes to spend the money and rack up the tickets to "purchase" the dollar store junk in the front. Luckily, I was able to distract by pointing them to the snack bar. It didn't take long for the shiny beasts to beckon again. I let girl spend a few more dollars because frankly, she had it. There it began. I knew boy was on edge because he wanted more time with the shiny beasts. When little girl went to check her tickets numbers, he started crying. "It's not fair. Why does she get to play more?" I sent him to sit and her to play.

He was crying like a 2 year-old. I tried explaining. I tried redirecting, I tried telling him he was acting like a baby and that I wouldn't comfort him because he knew the rule. I told him it was ok to cry and to be upset, but that he was taking it to far. I entered "too many words" territory. I tried to stop talking. He ratcheted it up more, so I started threatening punishments.

I don't do that unless I mean it because I can't stand to watch those pushover parents. One day I'll tell yall all about the crying girl at gymnastics on the "pre-team" that is crying each time I go. And mercy, that girl has to practice 3 days a week, 2 hours a day. I don't know how that coach can stand it. I would have banned that child from "pre-team" by now.

Any who, boy was told that he'd lose electronics for the day if he didn't stop. It kept going. I threatened a new one this time, loss of allowance. He paused, but didn't stop. Little girl came and asked me for something, so I announced it was time to go. Boy wasn't having it. It was put up or shut up time, so I reminded him one more time about allowances lost. He cranked up, so I help up 1 finger (indicating one dollar). He screamed and didn't stop, so I held up a 2. By the time we got to the exit, he was on a 5. We got out the front door and he screamed like a banshee. There went 6, on the way to the parking lot and it was 7, at the car it was 8. Mind you, I kept telling him the consequences, but he was too wound up.

Once in the car, it was all about how he'd never love us again and that he was going to leave. I told him we'd always love him, then I asked where he was going to go, he told me in his room forever and ever. He clearly hasn't thought through what leaving forever means - I'm grateful for that. The little girl has threatened to pack up and leave before.

He also told me he wanted to punch me over and over. It sounds horrifying, but it's better than acting on the impulse. We've been working on kicking out at things, throwing things, and slamming doors for a while. After he threatened to hit me, I calmly told him that he better rethink it or things were going to get a lot worse for him.

Eventually, he calmed down. I told him I still loved him. I told him I was never angry (a little untrue). I told him that I was proud he got control. I told him that I understood how scary it was too feel so out of control. I also told him I'd let him do "special chores" to earn back some allowance this week. I am a bit of a pushover when it comes to him. It's the mommy guilt because of the Autism.

I take the easy road and blame Monkey Joe's for those damn arcade games. Mark one more place on my list of places not to go anymore.

Grief the stalker that no one talks about

Grief stalks me like the paparazzi stalks the latest star having a melt down (latest example being Shia Labeouf).

In some ways, it is also like a door-to-door solicitor. I sit and wait quietly pretending I'm not home. Just when I think I've managed to avoid it, it rings the bell until I answer. I don't want to let it in, but it seems I have no choice.

Grief exists in this world just like sin, death, anger, arrogance, and all of the other bad things around. In this life, there is no freedom from these things. Everyone we know will be impacted in some way eventually. The only true freedom will be in heaven one day. Thankfully, God does give us a reprieve from time to time. A chance to experience love, joy, peace, and beauty.

Still, I do not want to visit with grief. I want to pretend it never knocked on my door. It's been at my door too many times already. When I let it come in to visit, I cry. I get angry. I feel the emptiness in my womb.

People will tell you they understand. Meaning to be supportive, they'll say things like "it's for the best", or "most of those babies lost had something wrong and it was a greater mercy". I find out next week if something was "wrong" with my baby. I suspect not. The last one I lost was perfect.

Then there are the people that don't even acknowledge that you've gone through this terrible loss. Whether out of embarrassment because they don't know what to say, or thinking that bringing it up will only make it worse. The ignoring is worse. Where I work, around the same time I lost my baby, another person found out that she was going to have one. I hugged her and told her truthfully that I was happy for her. Yet, from some of the people that I've known for 11 years, not one thing has been said. I don't think they are trying to be mean, but I wonder if they realize how hurtful it is that they pretended it never happened.

While people can empathize with me, unless they've experienced this type of loss, they don't know. They don't understand that as my body changes back - slowly - I weep because I'll never see the benefit of the changes. As my belly flattens back out (well at least shrinks down some), I feel so much emptiness inside. They won't understand that I feel like I've failed in some way because I couldn't nurture and protect this precious life inside. During the recovery of the D&E, I am reminded daily of what I've lost. When I finally think I've finished the recovery process, my body decides that it's not quite over.

One day, everyone will experience the dichotomy of a loving God that allows us to endure this life complete with grief, joy, loss, and love.. Maybe, they will allow Him to grant us His grace as He walks through it with us - probably dragging and carrying us along.

I don't know why this happened. If I try to answer it, I will make myself crazy. The closest I can come right now is the song "Press On". I just try to let grief come in and visit. I know eventually it will leave and I won't have to entertain it again for a while. When it finally goes, I'll see that God did show me mercy and love during this time. That in all likelihood, there are drag marks in the proverbial sand where He was with me.