MAKING BLANKETS

by

J. Margaret

(names have been changed to protect identity)

I gave birth to two sons, 3 years apart. They are and forever will be the “loves” of my life. They are both physically beautiful, smart, talented and compassionate men. I would do anything and everything for them. Herein lies my story, my fall from grace as a wise mother. This is where the blankets come in, listen closely moms.

It was November 22, 2003 when my youngest son’s friend, Scotty, came over to tell us that Tim was in jail for the possession and possible sale of marijuana. He had been in jail for 3 days, he didn’t call us because we always said if you ever get yourself in trouble don’t call us! Needless to say, we drove to Flagstaff that evening and bailed him out of jail at midnight. A year later he had his day in court and was assigned 18 months of probation, 220 hours of community service, and mandatory drug testing through TASK.

After the initial shock of it all, we thought things would get back to “normal.” He was registered in college again, working part time and his probation was his responsibility. Tim was living in a condo we owned and shared it with his brother that was getting his master’s degree. All sounds great, but things are never as they appear to be, what a laugh. I have since learned to look beyond appearances to “what is.” I always thought I knew that, but oh, as a mother we see what we want to see.

Looking back I think the most difficult part of being a mother is that you see all the infinite possibilities for potential in your child that the rest of the world does not readily recognize. It is because of these possibilities that I thought I would, could, should help my youngest son so he could “move forward” with his life.

After two attempts at community service at his grandparent’s church he came home with exciting news one day. Through a friend who had been through a similar experience Tim learned that he could “Make Blankets” to earn his community service hours. He asked his probation officer about this, and she told him “Yes.” So he saved his money and hired the same woman his friend had hired and had his first 10 blankets made.

As always, there was a glitch in the probation system. By the time he turned in his first 20 blankets, the rules had changed. Now it would be required that every person wishing to turn in blankets had to take a sewing test to prove that they alone would actually be Making Blankets.

So on one fine day, after much nagging, months after his 20 hours of service a month had been overlooked by his probation officer (because she was young, cute and attracted to my son), we sat down together at my house to have his first sewing lesson. Well, like I told you he is very smart, a quick study. In fact I told him the story of his great great grandfather who had been a tailor in Armenia, Russia and that sewing was in his bones!

He called me right after the test and said he passed and they were amazed by him!

In the meantime, Tim dropped out of school, got a prescription for marinol so he could pass the drug tests for marijuana and started his own record label. The system is flawed and he figured out every way possible to get around it. Tim was also completely broke now, having lost his other job and trying to start up a record label, which of course we supported because we thought it was the right thing to do for him.

A year had gone by, he still had 200 hours of community service hours to do! His probation officer didn’t seem to mind, but I did. So I broke down, went against my better judgment, went to Wal-Mart and bought $80.00 of flannel material 42 inches wide with matching thread and had enough material to make another 40 blankets. Each time Tim would come home for dinner I would encourage him to Make Blankets with me. Of course I had already cut the material and thread the machine. Tim would sew for about 3 minutes, get nervous with the whole operation and quit. So quietly, very quietly I began Making Blankets.

I always enjoyed sewing and had not sewn anything for years. I am a retired high school teacher and for many years simply did not have the time to sew. The rhythm of the machine humming, the repetitive work of cutting, sewing, trimming and folding had a peacefulness to it. I was enjoying Making Blankets. I made many more trips to Wal-Mart, bought yards more of flannel material, and spent about $400 total. I quietly wrapped them in sets of twenty and stored them under his bed. Each time Tim came home I would give him a stack of blankets to turn in for community hours earned.

I eventually finished making the 100 blankets for the 200 hours of community service. Each time Tim met with his probation officer I would ask him if he turned in his blankets and he would wave me off with a “don’t worry about it she (the probation officer) is really cool.” <>

The eighteen months went by with Tim passing his drug tests because it was ok to test positive for marijuana because he was prescribe marinol. I decided to pay his $2,700 restitution so he could get off probation and get on with his life. Tim was very careful this whole time to never ask me to do any of these things. He would indeed tell me that the only way he was going to learn anything would be to do it himself, but oh no, I couldn’t wait for that-it was making me crazy that my son, yes my beloved son-was listed as a felon and on probation. So, I made sure everything was in order and he was released from probation and the charges were dropped to a misdemeanor.

This made me very happy, but Tim didn’t seem the least bit relieved by the situation. Because I wanted to believe that things were better, I failed to see that he was slowly falling into a prescription drug induced state most of the time. He was no longer in school, he was locked out of the music studio for not paying the rent, he was loafing around the condo most of the time. By now his older brother had moved out and Tim had a series of unsuccessful roommates.

Exactly 1 year after being off of probation, Tim found himself on probation for breaking the windshield and keying a very expensive car while drunk. My eyes finally were open and could not be closed again. I told my husband that we had to move Tim home and take away all privileges. No longer could I justify paying for his cell phone because it would stress me out not to be able to call him. No longer could I justify him not being able to pay the rent at the condo. No longer could I justify paying his car insurance and gas so he could get a job and work.

This could be a really long story filled with my self loathing for being the stupidest mother in America, but I will keep it short-it is a short story after all.

The day we went to the condo to move Tim home, guess what I found wrapped in his closet? I found a stack of 70 blankets that had never been turned in to the probation officer. How did he get off probation? I don’t know. I guess he sweet talked his way out. Since that time another friend of his was on probation, so the 70 blankets were sold to him without my knowing. Of course I never saw the money. I could go off on a tangent and tell you that this friend of his is the son of a prominent political figure whose mother is strung out on prescription drugs too, but that is another short story.

Now to the point of my short story. As I mentioned Tim is on probation again, this time for 2 years. This time he is also being drug tested, but I am no longer paying for a therapist and marinol, and xanax prescriptions. This time his probation officer is serious, so serious that she has visited our home three times already, drug tests him regularly, and made sure he knows he has to be working full time. She makes sure that he attends his mandatory anger management and substance abuse classes. She set him up on monthly payments for his restitution. So luckily for Tim, this time he has a probation officer that cares enough to make him accountable and a mother who learned the hard way that sometimes the best help is no help at all.

I am just grateful that this time he was not assigned any community service. Now all I have to work on is trying to forgive myself, the first probation officer, and Tim for all the mistakes we made the last 3 years. I am just very grateful that the cornerstone of my religious/spiritual belief is Forgiveness. Knowing that intellectually and doing it on a daily basis is the difficult part, but I am trying nonetheless. That is the end of my short story. Maybe one mom will listen.