The Next Jim Henson

Who inspires you in your life? It’s easy to be inspired by famous actors or athletes. Who around you every day inspires you?

I’m inspired by the Next Jim Henson. Who is he? He’s my son, Spiderman. Spiderman has developed severe anxiety after the harrowing last year we had. It’s slowly improving but it’s still present every day.

I don’t know how he manages it all.  He goes to school and deals with being a teenager with anxiety. It must be overwhelming. Spiderman also struggles academically and is very nervous in social situations.

The only time I ever see him calm, happy and focused is when he is creating. He will create amazing Muppets. When he breaks out his sewing machine and fabric, he is in the zone. His face is so peaceful.

“Puff” An original Creation by NAB Puppets.

When he shows me one of his finished projects, he shines with pride. I get actual real smiles from him. They are too rare.

Spiderman has created several Muppets, all his own original design. He’s also created masks and prop weapons. He wants to get into sculpting in order to begin to learn special effects.

When I think of what this anxiety riddled teenager is capable I’m amazed. He is dealing with so much. Yet he continues to amaze me with his creativity and determination.

Another NAB Puppets Original

My son is very lucky. He already has found what most of us struggle for.

He’s found his PASSION. His own personal meaning of life. It must be incredible to be so young and have such a wonderful passion. What better purpose than to make the world smile.

 

So , World , meet the next Jim Henson.  

My son. 

 

FIND HIM ON TWITTER- @nabpuppets
YOUTUBE NABPUPPETS. https://m.youtube.com/channel/UC12MhGKbCMQOIIkc4bgLRkA

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Pushing Against Myself

For many of us that struggle, we are struggling against circumstances beyond our control.  The world around us is preventing us from moving forward, or moving up.  It seems that everything is working against us.  What if what you are struggling against is being caused by your own actions?

What do you do then?

Really what do you do?  It feels easier to fight something that is outside of myself.  I can rise up, and feel powerful fighting an exterior foe.  Now when it comes to a problem I’ve caused myself, I feel powerless.  I don’t know how to kick my own ass.

I’m not really great at self discipline.  When it comes to taking responsibility, I’m not always good at following through.  I really need to be better at it.  I’m great at making excuses, or allowing myself to slip up.  I recently slipped into a bad old habit of being financially irresponsible.

After a year of surviving without any income for a family of five, I’ve gone on a financial binge.  We finally have steady income, and disposable income even.  I should be the most tight fisted person you’ve ever met when it comes to finances.  Considering what I’ve been through it would make sense.  Instead, I’m the opposite.

I want to be more responsible.  I’ve got the best of intentions.  Just when Hubs gets paid, it seems something always comes up, and the money never goes where it should.  I may be strong, resilient, and lots of other great things.  When it comes to being responsible financially, I’m not so great.

I know my own weakness though.  I know what I’ve got to work on.  I know that I need guidance to get my act together.  That’s the most important thing.  

Knowing what I’ve got to work on, and then taking the first step. 

 It all begins with one little step, First One Foot, then another.

On A Wing And A Prayer

In October of 2014, Hubs received a job offer that would move us cross country. We had been living in the South, on the Gulf Coast, for nearly ten years. This move would bring us back to our hometown in the North East. This job offer would provide us with more income than we had ever had at our disposal. It also came after nearly six months of surviving only on sales from Ebay. To make it work, we’d have to sell every single thing of value that we owned.

Everything that held sentimental value would have to go in storage. In order to get to our new home we’d have to drive in our extremely unreliable vehicle. The two teenagers, the toddler with his carseat, myself, and Hubs, crammed into a Grand Prix. Not to mention whatever we could bring with us for clothing and toys and important other things. Oh yeah and our two maltese dogs. Every single nook and cranny possible was packed. The kids had stuff behind them, under their feet, beside them, on them. It was incredibly uncomfortable. Not to mention the ride was slow.

Our toddler barely tolerated two hour car drives. We had to stop every few hours, and after about six hours of driving, Sweet Baby was done. It took us three days. In Georgia, we got a flat. We had no spare tire, and couldnt really afford to buy a new one. A wonderful man working at Walmart, in the Tire Lube Express helped us. We were on our way again.

In the first hotel we stopped at, we were so tired emotionally and physically that we didn’t even really care where we stopped. We snuck the dogs in under our jackets, and passed out for the night. In the morning we woke and looked around the room. There were what appeared to be knife marks on the outside of the bathroom door. It was a scary place.

The ride cross country was extremely nerve wracking. On top of the stress of moving, and driving with a toddler, we also didn’t have any car insurance. The Grand Prix also had a habit of blowing a head gasket, and then overheating every ten minutes or so of driving. We were making the trip on hopes and prayers alone. By the Grace of God I Go.

I don’t know how we made it. I spent more time praying during that trip than doing anything else. I remember when we hit New York City, it was very late at night, and the skyline was beautiful. It would have been even better, if there wasn’t so much traffic. The Grand Prix hadn’t overheated as long as we were moving steadily along. Now that we were sitting, it was getting unbelievably hot. If it got too hot, we’d have to pull over, and that would attract unwanted attention. Right when we were at the pulling over point, the traffic cleared just enough for us to maintain a steady speed.

We were almost to our temporary home, after three days of traveling. We’d be staying with my Sister, and my niece, and niece’s boyfriend for ten days before we moved into our winter rental. We arrived a few days after Thanksgiving, in the Berkshire’s. We had traded gorgeous Gulf Coast weather for one of New England’s worst Winter’s in years.

On top of the weather, the job offer that we had moved for, was about to disappear.

My Brother’s Gift

What’s life like living in an 800 square foot, two bedroom, one bath apartment? Add in four adults, three teenagers, and two toddlers. It sounds like a joke with a great punch line. It’s what my life looked like for the three months after we left the cabin.

I never expected to end up living with my brother. After all we’d been out of touch for nearly ten years. I had only seen him a handful of times since I’d moved back to my hometown nearly six months ago. When we had no place to go, and were considering having to sleep in our van for a couple weeks until Hubs got his first check, my brother helped us. We discussed the basic ground rules that he had for us staying there.  It was basically, get on your feet, stay as long as it takes to do that.  Don’t move back to the Gulf Coast.

Even if that meant three months of us sleeping on the floor. Even though it meant nine people sharing a bathroom and tripping over each other. Not only did we have to share a tiny space, but there were also two different sleep schedules. My brother, the teenagers, Sweet Baby and Myself, were on a daytime schedule.  My Sister in Law ( I call her my sister) and my youngest niece were on a night time schedule.

Hubs, kids and I all slept in the living room together.  At five in the morning, Hubs and my brother were leaving for work everyday. Two hours later, my sister was coming home from work. When Hubs and my brother were coming home from work, my sister and her youngest daughter were waking up.

I thought it was hard keeping my own house clean and organized. That was nothing compared to cleaning up after nine people in a tiny apartment. The cleaning was one thing, the trying to cook for them was another.  My oldest niece, an athlete, had a very picky diet.  My sister only ate salads, or super junk food. I attempted to make food for the whole family for the first week.  After that, it was fend for yourselves basically.  I cooked.  You either ate it or you didn’t. Most of the time they didn’t.

Life in the apartment was exhausting and trying and great. I got to spend time catching up with my brother’s family. My middle niece, whom I hadn’t seen since she was seven, had changed so much. She now was an accomplished athlete, super independent, and absolutely gorgeous. She also was incapable of even heating up a bowl of soup for herself, which I thought was hysterical. My youngest niece, I had never even met until I moved back home. She is a precocious kindergartner, full of effervescence, and sass. She was able to interact often enough with my verbally delayed toddler to encourage his speech to develop.

Prior to moving in with my brother, my two year old, Sweet Baby, could say one word.  “Da”.  It was his word for everything.  His primary communication stemmed from the sign language we had taught him. Along came my youngest niece.  By the time we moved out Sweet Baby was speaking in sentences.  He was like an over wet sponge.  He was pouring out language.

My older two teen’s, Princess and Spiderman both benefited as well. They are both a little socially impaired.  There’s no way to hide from the social aspects of being a teenager around my middle niece.  She is a social butterfly, and very outgoing. She helped my two teens feel a little more comfortable being in social situations.

I don’t know if my brother will ever truly know what he did for my family. Two months after we moved in with him Hubs had three additional job offers . One was as an adult IT instructor . It was for much more money than the original job we had moved across country for.

It took almost a year, but we made it. All thanks to a multitude of blessings.

 

The Cabin That Love Built

Our family had just moved back to our home state, after living in the south for ten years. We had left everything behind for a job opportunity that fell through. The first home we stayed in was only a temporary rental, but we needed more time to get on our feet. We decided to try and make it work in Massachusetts.

We bartered our renovation services for free rent in a cabin in the Berkshire Mountains.  Again we were living in a home because of the kindness of others . This time we would be responsible for renovating an ancient family cabin so that it would be ready for weekly rentals in the summer.

The couple whom had bought it fell madly in love while working at The Metropolitan Opera in New York. The wife was a famous Opera singer , and the husband was a violinist in the orchestra. Although the rules stated that they weren’t allowed to have a relationship, they fell in love and built a life together anyway. The cabin was their private get away.

As soon as you walked in to the cabin you could feel the love. It is a place filled with beautiful wood and large windows to view the majesty of the mountains surrounding you.

We did lots and lots of renovations during the months we were there. During the down time Hubs continued with interview after interview.

Finally Hubs received a job offer. On the first day of work, our only car, a Grand Prix, blew a head gasket. Our rental home was over an hour away, not near anyone we knew, nowhere near public transportation . We had no income yet to fix it. He lost the job.

Desperate, I put an ad on Craigslist looking to barter work for a vehicle. I got two responses. One fell through, the other came through. I’ll give the details on the new vehicle in the next post .

As July pulled closer, we became more and more certain we’d have to return to the South. A week before we had to leave Hubs got another job offer. It paid well, was close, and it was a chance for a new beginning. The only problem was now we had an income but no place to live.

There are lots of state agencies that help with move in costs for families that are digging themselves out of difficult times. The problem with the agencies is that you have to have gone through a legal eviction in order to qualify. If you want to go to a shelter, it’s nearly impossible . It takes a very long time if you can even qualify .

We didn’t qualify for any help because we were leaving the cabin willingly. We couldn’t put the owner out after helping us for so long . It wouldn’t have been right.

We did the only thing we could. We moved into my brother’s apartment. It would be nine people living in a two bedroom, 800 square foot apartment. It was amazing. My brother took us in, and prevented us from the step into true homelessness that we were about to have to take.

Welcome Home

Welcome to First One Foot, my personal blog.

I hope that you find something here that will inspire you. As I have been inspired by others. This blog is here to share my experiences, insights, wisdom, happiness, struggles and everything in between. My life has been a whirlwind, filled with blessings and trials, and truly wonderful people. At times my family has been on top of the world, and others, we have been one step away from homelessness. Whether you are at the top, clawing your way out from the bottom, or somewhere in between, Welcome.

Now that you’re here, you’ll find that no matter what, your goals, dreams and better days are within reach. It all begins with one little step.

First One Foot, then another.

“I will follow the upward road today; I will keep my face to the light. I will think high thoughts as I go my way; I will do what I know is right. I will look for the flowers by the side of the road; I will laugh and love and be strong. I will try to lighten another’s load this day as I fare along.”

Mary S. Edgar