It's funny to me how sometimes the best lessons to be learned are by watching others...no need to get your hands dirty, right? The lessons that I can learn through my kids, while at times mind boggling, are seriously placed for a reason. As if someone were coming in and creating this perfect mishap of a moment. You are in the right place at the right time and you saw it. It's times like these that really make me believe in God, fate, and the fact that there are no coincidences.
Off the heels of a dark day, the kind I haven't had in a while, there was this afternoon that seriously put things into perspective for me. We went swimming. Not really profound stuff, but the events that occurred while there, to me, were pretty profound. There are however two reoccurring themes about this story...something so very simple can really open one's eyes and Nora. She was put into my life for reasons far reaching the fact that she's my daughter...sometimes she's my looking glass.
Our first winter here, just a couple of months after Jason passed away we all trekked up the hill nearby. Sleds in hand, not a clue how serious the hill really was, we were getting ready to look fear in the eyes. That simple release of the sound "WEEEEEEE!!!" was life altering that day. We needed to just let go of how life was for a moment. After the first trek down, Nora was so exhilarated that she screamed "...TELL 'EM LARGE MARGE SENT YA!!" To her, she'd just went headlong down Everest, and she was hungry for more. For me, it was seeing such a release that reminded me it was okay to let down one's guard. Letting go could sometimes be fun...and in this case may induce peeing one's pants.
We were visiting friends at their country club pool. Instantaneously upon pulling into the parking lot, I gave the kids SERIOUS ground rules: best manners, be courteous, do not pee in the pool. We get settled and Nora starts eyeing the diving board. All summer long she has asked to jump off other places, and all summer I have pushed her off the idea as I didn't think she could do it. She just hung up her water wings a couple of weeks ago, right? But seeing that there were more lifeguards there than actual swimmers, I thought okay...figuring she would chicken out.
She walked up to that platform...goggles on, wearing a slight wedgie with her bathing suit. She went to the edge, and then looked back at me. She stood there for a minute, and we all started cheering her on...Nora...Nora...NORA...and she did it! She jumped in came right back up to the top and screamed "...THAT'S THE BEST THING IN MY LIFE!!!" That one act, seriously will be cemented in my mind for a very long time. With her new found talent, she spent the rest of the time there, chatting up 3 teen aged boys. There she was, in ten foot waters, perched up arms off the side of the pool, getting jumping tips off of them...for her, it was an epic day!
Turns out, all summer long, she's been ready...I was the one who was not. I was holding on. Figuring out that letting go, was not only a hell of a lot more fun, but at times necessary. Her ability to face her fears and check off her summer bucket list is pretty damned admirable for a 4 year old. While I love all of my kids, I will be forever grateful for what my little looking glass has to teach me...
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Thank you, Louisa May...
Time is the funniest thing...It can transport you. Encourage you. Engage you. Help you remember how far you've come, how old you are, and that there still is a long road ahead of you. It is interesting how one date, not even a significant date in the calendars of time, can be recalled as if it wasn't years ago, more like hours or minutes. Today, out of the clear blue no where, time kicked my butt...
I stupidly tried to fight it off today, being conceited and thinking I could shrug it off. My burying skills are the stuff of legends. It's not that I don't want to deal with what might have me down, that isn't healthy. It's just the fact that I do not have the luxury of breaking down and bawling, at least without some sort of audience. I try to do anything else to quell it, at least until a quiet time. Today Not a chance.
Today, for the first time in a long time, it was in public, in a quiet church, and for some inexplicable reason, I just wanted to cry. I sat there, trying to stop it. Mentally giving myself a SERIOUS inter-monologue on how this was NOT THE TIME...no Kleenex, no wipes, forgot to even pack a rouge diaper today. I had 4 different snacks, 5 action figures, 3 colored pencils, 24 index cards and no Kleenex. That should have been my first clue that today was going to be off.
I sat there, willing myself to not be noticed. Willing myself that if I just focused on what was being said in church, I could trick my brain if for only 17 minutes to forget what it was doing. Like some sort of mental Sudoku puzzle. Nothing. Well, nothing but anger then. I felt flushed, nervous, and twitchy. I found it funny when about the time I was wondering if I should just walk out of church, as clearly the message was being lost on me today, Atticus turned to me and said "...so, is it time to go?"
I was trying to pinpoint the 'thing' that had me going crazy. I was trying to understand it and figure out what to do next. Not so easy to do in a church pew. I had all of these things running through my mind. What to fix? How to change? What's for lunch? How to stop feeling like I was going to ugly cry? We weren't the first ones out the church door, but we didn't stay to mingle. I walked that block home at the most brisk pace I could. Walked in the front door, answered Abe's 'What's for lunch?' question with 'FOOD', and excused myself to my room for a minute.
I sat, grabbed a roll of toilet paper, and bawled. Two years ago today we moved into this house. It was a hot, sweaty, tiresome but exciting day. I will remember it because of all of those things, but today it just made me sad because sometimes time is terrifying to me. I would never have believed that my life is where it is now moving in that day. I know I have some abandonment issues. Based on things thankfully not everyone fully understands. It seems treacherous and unproductive to push people away, but it's those 'inner survivor skills' bursting through at times to a fault. My instincts unfortunately at times are to push people who love me away, because I don't want to try to figure out how to live without them later.
So, as I tried to dry my eyes I looked up and saw a picture a dear friend got for me. It is a quote from Louisa May Alcott that simply says...
"I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship"
I looked at this metaphor for life, knowing that it is more than a daily mantra I should be uttering. It is a reminder that the stuff I thought was hard before? Yeah, that's just a 'try on' to what could happen next. All the while hoping that while I am learning how to sail my ship, I remember that I don't always have to do it alone...it could take a while...
I stupidly tried to fight it off today, being conceited and thinking I could shrug it off. My burying skills are the stuff of legends. It's not that I don't want to deal with what might have me down, that isn't healthy. It's just the fact that I do not have the luxury of breaking down and bawling, at least without some sort of audience. I try to do anything else to quell it, at least until a quiet time. Today Not a chance.
Today, for the first time in a long time, it was in public, in a quiet church, and for some inexplicable reason, I just wanted to cry. I sat there, trying to stop it. Mentally giving myself a SERIOUS inter-monologue on how this was NOT THE TIME...no Kleenex, no wipes, forgot to even pack a rouge diaper today. I had 4 different snacks, 5 action figures, 3 colored pencils, 24 index cards and no Kleenex. That should have been my first clue that today was going to be off.
I sat there, willing myself to not be noticed. Willing myself that if I just focused on what was being said in church, I could trick my brain if for only 17 minutes to forget what it was doing. Like some sort of mental Sudoku puzzle. Nothing. Well, nothing but anger then. I felt flushed, nervous, and twitchy. I found it funny when about the time I was wondering if I should just walk out of church, as clearly the message was being lost on me today, Atticus turned to me and said "...so, is it time to go?"
I was trying to pinpoint the 'thing' that had me going crazy. I was trying to understand it and figure out what to do next. Not so easy to do in a church pew. I had all of these things running through my mind. What to fix? How to change? What's for lunch? How to stop feeling like I was going to ugly cry? We weren't the first ones out the church door, but we didn't stay to mingle. I walked that block home at the most brisk pace I could. Walked in the front door, answered Abe's 'What's for lunch?' question with 'FOOD', and excused myself to my room for a minute.
I sat, grabbed a roll of toilet paper, and bawled. Two years ago today we moved into this house. It was a hot, sweaty, tiresome but exciting day. I will remember it because of all of those things, but today it just made me sad because sometimes time is terrifying to me. I would never have believed that my life is where it is now moving in that day. I know I have some abandonment issues. Based on things thankfully not everyone fully understands. It seems treacherous and unproductive to push people away, but it's those 'inner survivor skills' bursting through at times to a fault. My instincts unfortunately at times are to push people who love me away, because I don't want to try to figure out how to live without them later.
So, as I tried to dry my eyes I looked up and saw a picture a dear friend got for me. It is a quote from Louisa May Alcott that simply says...
"I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship"
I looked at this metaphor for life, knowing that it is more than a daily mantra I should be uttering. It is a reminder that the stuff I thought was hard before? Yeah, that's just a 'try on' to what could happen next. All the while hoping that while I am learning how to sail my ship, I remember that I don't always have to do it alone...it could take a while...
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Hormones and the FULL moon...
Nothing I type into my computer is that profound I feel. For some reason at this point, I have to force myself to go back and edit my other blog. I'm not so gently reminded by my 8 year old, "...so, what's the deal with your book? What are you doing about it?" I take that more than subtle nudge to get back at it...All the while knowing that having to edit, having to read through what has gone through my head in the last couple of years is hard. If only the edits to be made could be applied to life...
I have to wonder. I wonder about people whose lives were so very hard, and they had the presence of mind to journal about it...How did they know what they were going through was hard? Did they realize that their words would shape generations later? Now, I'm not saying I would ever be within miles of these people. But wouldn't it be interesting if Anne Frank survived? Wouldn't it be interesting to know what her thoughts would be re-reading them? But, editing words is easy, editing life is impossible as hindsight is always golden.
Then there are the questions that are asked of you...by a nearly five year old. Nora's ability to not filter her thoughts, sometimes embarrassing, are thought provoking and admirable. Her ability to express her fears, while at times maddening, are a lesson in how to live. Her fears, very numerable, are text book as to what she has been through in her life so far. She and her brothers have had profound life altering events, all before the age of being able to really process them and or cope the way an adult would. Answering her questions as she lays down at bedtime are at times like walking a tight rope. The wrong answer will just initiate more questions. The right answer might indeed break her heart. All the while knowing how most kids her age don't have to ask these questions. They live in a safe-unbroken world.
Then I find myself in a funk. I could blame the full moon. I could blame hormones. I could blame the lack of adult time I've had lately. Not really knowing if writing about it would even change things. But this funk is different. It's a mixture of feeling lonely (yeah, like that happens around here) and wanting to isolate myself all at the same time. Counter productive? Indeed. Wanting to claw my way out? Definitely. Lately, it's my kids faces. It's the moments just after telling them how their lives had changed and I could do nothing to make it better. It's the sleepless dread I had even telling them their dad was gone. It's the feeling of knowing my words were/would crush them. And, it sucks.
I wonder, is this whole thing another wave? Were the other ones just a teaser, leaving me cocky and headstrong for no reason? I have to admit, I don't really want to know the answers. I'll blame the moon and hormones, squint a little as to not see what might be coming and hope for the best. With any luck I'll try to remind myself that this might be a chance to 'edit' as life happens...
I have to wonder. I wonder about people whose lives were so very hard, and they had the presence of mind to journal about it...How did they know what they were going through was hard? Did they realize that their words would shape generations later? Now, I'm not saying I would ever be within miles of these people. But wouldn't it be interesting if Anne Frank survived? Wouldn't it be interesting to know what her thoughts would be re-reading them? But, editing words is easy, editing life is impossible as hindsight is always golden.
Then there are the questions that are asked of you...by a nearly five year old. Nora's ability to not filter her thoughts, sometimes embarrassing, are thought provoking and admirable. Her ability to express her fears, while at times maddening, are a lesson in how to live. Her fears, very numerable, are text book as to what she has been through in her life so far. She and her brothers have had profound life altering events, all before the age of being able to really process them and or cope the way an adult would. Answering her questions as she lays down at bedtime are at times like walking a tight rope. The wrong answer will just initiate more questions. The right answer might indeed break her heart. All the while knowing how most kids her age don't have to ask these questions. They live in a safe-unbroken world.
Then I find myself in a funk. I could blame the full moon. I could blame hormones. I could blame the lack of adult time I've had lately. Not really knowing if writing about it would even change things. But this funk is different. It's a mixture of feeling lonely (yeah, like that happens around here) and wanting to isolate myself all at the same time. Counter productive? Indeed. Wanting to claw my way out? Definitely. Lately, it's my kids faces. It's the moments just after telling them how their lives had changed and I could do nothing to make it better. It's the sleepless dread I had even telling them their dad was gone. It's the feeling of knowing my words were/would crush them. And, it sucks.
I wonder, is this whole thing another wave? Were the other ones just a teaser, leaving me cocky and headstrong for no reason? I have to admit, I don't really want to know the answers. I'll blame the moon and hormones, squint a little as to not see what might be coming and hope for the best. With any luck I'll try to remind myself that this might be a chance to 'edit' as life happens...
Monday, July 7, 2014
...there's ol' Widow Hunt...
...the funny thing about life? You don't really understand it until you have to...You don't really know what is in store for you, until everything you knew is sort of worthless. Some would look at this as a growing experience. Some would look at it as a chance for rebirth of their faith. Some would even go so far as saying you are better for it happening to you. But that's the thing, they aren't you...
Life is full of all of these terms and generalizations branding situations that are so very individualized that it is almost laughable. The things that people say while one is grieving? You can either laugh at them or if you are really talented you nod your head while mentally punching them in the face. I wish I had the proper response to someone who is grieving...but the only thing that comes to mind is a hug, a bottle of good booze, and a smile.
Now, thankfully, I'm no longer settled into this place. I remember it, and I remember it well. Every now and again, someone will say something to me, and I seriously have to stunt the urge to tell them that unknowingly what they uttered is not only offensive, but sweet Jesus don't ever say that to anyone again. These are thankfully few and far between. I know people are stunted for knowing what to say, and even an overly verbal person like myself NOW knows saying nothing is almost preferred.
So, this rant? Does it have a reason? One word...widow. I sort of hate that word. Understandably, it meant something a little different years ago, it's origin is from the 1400's. A woman's husband would die, leaving her destitute and feeble...leaving her to scuttle off to the edge of town, rarely to be heard of or seen. Her name would be totally forgotten for anything other than that of "...'Ol Widow (insert last name here)..." She would rarely be seen out from underneath a darkened veil...yeah, that sounds like me.
This word, this term shouldn't have to determine my grief...but to some it still does. Grief shouldn't have to be worn to know it's happening. One term shouldn't brand you for the rest of your life. But, try explaining your situation if you are one...head tilts and sad looks. As if that is going to help the fact that you cannot be at the orthodontist for one of your kids at 6:30 am. There's no real great way to meet new people unless you are ready for their possible response. And nothing starts a party like the phrase, "...I'm a widow..." Pass the fun flask...
I decided a long time ago that I would grieve the way I needed to. I would let the break downs, the fall outs, the waves come when I needed it to come, in my own time, my own way. Not wear it on my sleeve like some scarlet letter. Not have to constantly remind people that I'm damaged, I'm a widow. I sort of feel some stupid sense of empowerment from it. I think my spouse would be proud of me, as crazy as I am, for grieving the way I have despite the way the world works. I'm not saying that I fully understand life, but I'm saying that I understand it more than the word widow could possibly identify me...and end rant.
Life is full of all of these terms and generalizations branding situations that are so very individualized that it is almost laughable. The things that people say while one is grieving? You can either laugh at them or if you are really talented you nod your head while mentally punching them in the face. I wish I had the proper response to someone who is grieving...but the only thing that comes to mind is a hug, a bottle of good booze, and a smile.
Now, thankfully, I'm no longer settled into this place. I remember it, and I remember it well. Every now and again, someone will say something to me, and I seriously have to stunt the urge to tell them that unknowingly what they uttered is not only offensive, but sweet Jesus don't ever say that to anyone again. These are thankfully few and far between. I know people are stunted for knowing what to say, and even an overly verbal person like myself NOW knows saying nothing is almost preferred.
So, this rant? Does it have a reason? One word...widow. I sort of hate that word. Understandably, it meant something a little different years ago, it's origin is from the 1400's. A woman's husband would die, leaving her destitute and feeble...leaving her to scuttle off to the edge of town, rarely to be heard of or seen. Her name would be totally forgotten for anything other than that of "...'Ol Widow (insert last name here)..." She would rarely be seen out from underneath a darkened veil...yeah, that sounds like me.
This word, this term shouldn't have to determine my grief...but to some it still does. Grief shouldn't have to be worn to know it's happening. One term shouldn't brand you for the rest of your life. But, try explaining your situation if you are one...head tilts and sad looks. As if that is going to help the fact that you cannot be at the orthodontist for one of your kids at 6:30 am. There's no real great way to meet new people unless you are ready for their possible response. And nothing starts a party like the phrase, "...I'm a widow..." Pass the fun flask...
I decided a long time ago that I would grieve the way I needed to. I would let the break downs, the fall outs, the waves come when I needed it to come, in my own time, my own way. Not wear it on my sleeve like some scarlet letter. Not have to constantly remind people that I'm damaged, I'm a widow. I sort of feel some stupid sense of empowerment from it. I think my spouse would be proud of me, as crazy as I am, for grieving the way I have despite the way the world works. I'm not saying that I fully understand life, but I'm saying that I understand it more than the word widow could possibly identify me...and end rant.
...looking at fish...
My mind is a jumble...I've got a few things kicking around in my head. I was actually looking forward to sitting down and letting out some keyboard aggression...but I lost my window. Thankfully I lost a little aggression too. But it seems during certain times of the year, no matter how happy I may be I'm more trigger happy than I'd like to be, thus the simplest of things drive me up a tree...and for what?
My language skills must be lacking. I have either become a low talker, or my kids have just simply adopted another language. Head reeling, remembering how I used to be able to say something 3 times and be done. Now it's like my voice is on delay, and we've started to average 9. This does nothing to help a trigger happy mother of four not look like a complete lunatic in public. I know people who simply just don't take their kids places for this exact reason. I've never wanted to be this person, and frankly I don't have the luxury. So, I've decided to just start calling my kids by different names to see if that possibly works. As it worked out today, anywhere we went, anyone who was unfortunate to be around us, ended up knowing all of my kids names as I repeated them continuously. Either that or just start taking medication, the likes of which can cover up the fact that I'm about to lose my shit and just make me look like I'm looking at the fish in a pet store.
It seems redundant, but I have to constantly remind myself to relax. A crisis will ensue whether I've packed snacks or not. I think my internal struggle is starting to boil up also because I'm a month away from having a hip replacement. I try to remind myself how much better my day to day existence will be a year from now. The pain just simple mobility can cause currently is a little bit maddening I have to admit. My mind races to the 27 things I have to do before that fateful day under the knife. Mind you, it's nothing that is life threatening, pressing, or even anything I can delegate...it's just life stuff. We have a birthday, doctor appointments, eye appointments, dentist appointments, school supplies, and another birthday. So, not 27, but I gave you the short list as to not SCREAM crazy. I'm not worried about how things get accomplished while I'm recuperating, just eager to line a few things up to make it easier on the sainted people who have agreed to help.
A week from tomorrow my Oscar turns 10. It's really quite hard to believe. So many things run through my head close to events like this. The over planning of making a birthday cake usually is the first. This year I must have been under-caffeinated as I ridiculously mentioned, wouldn't a Baked Alaska be cool? What the hell was I thinking? Pinterest and my mom solved this problem. This is his year for a party. Thankfully he said he only wanted two of his friends to come over. On tap are pizza/wings, cake, video games, a scavenger hunt and movies. It's weird. He's at that strange age where some things are still too old for him, and others are too young. Planning a party for boys who like to sit with a controller in their hands- fairly simple. Less is more, right?
Lately, I find it more interesting how much he reminds me of Jason. To me it has always been in glimpses. He has grown this last year, and was reeling when I offered him a couple of Jason's smallest t-shirts to wear. Worried I was opening a can of worms with the rest of the kids, I knew that it was something special to him...and the fact he needed them literally and figuratively. I see Jason in Oscar's mannerisms, his temperament, and unfortunately his lack of wanting to communicate. I know it will take time, but it's the time that passes us by that I know I can't get back...and that stings. I know he feels like a number in this house, one of the 289 things a day I dread knowing. The unspoken thing still and will always be that he wants more time just he and I. While I wish I could give him all he wants, at least I know it's something I can actually fix. Relentlessly wanting to fix what can't be...reminding myself that I am missing the ability to be superhuman for my kids. Who is really?
My language skills must be lacking. I have either become a low talker, or my kids have just simply adopted another language. Head reeling, remembering how I used to be able to say something 3 times and be done. Now it's like my voice is on delay, and we've started to average 9. This does nothing to help a trigger happy mother of four not look like a complete lunatic in public. I know people who simply just don't take their kids places for this exact reason. I've never wanted to be this person, and frankly I don't have the luxury. So, I've decided to just start calling my kids by different names to see if that possibly works. As it worked out today, anywhere we went, anyone who was unfortunate to be around us, ended up knowing all of my kids names as I repeated them continuously. Either that or just start taking medication, the likes of which can cover up the fact that I'm about to lose my shit and just make me look like I'm looking at the fish in a pet store.
It seems redundant, but I have to constantly remind myself to relax. A crisis will ensue whether I've packed snacks or not. I think my internal struggle is starting to boil up also because I'm a month away from having a hip replacement. I try to remind myself how much better my day to day existence will be a year from now. The pain just simple mobility can cause currently is a little bit maddening I have to admit. My mind races to the 27 things I have to do before that fateful day under the knife. Mind you, it's nothing that is life threatening, pressing, or even anything I can delegate...it's just life stuff. We have a birthday, doctor appointments, eye appointments, dentist appointments, school supplies, and another birthday. So, not 27, but I gave you the short list as to not SCREAM crazy. I'm not worried about how things get accomplished while I'm recuperating, just eager to line a few things up to make it easier on the sainted people who have agreed to help.
A week from tomorrow my Oscar turns 10. It's really quite hard to believe. So many things run through my head close to events like this. The over planning of making a birthday cake usually is the first. This year I must have been under-caffeinated as I ridiculously mentioned, wouldn't a Baked Alaska be cool? What the hell was I thinking? Pinterest and my mom solved this problem. This is his year for a party. Thankfully he said he only wanted two of his friends to come over. On tap are pizza/wings, cake, video games, a scavenger hunt and movies. It's weird. He's at that strange age where some things are still too old for him, and others are too young. Planning a party for boys who like to sit with a controller in their hands- fairly simple. Less is more, right?
Lately, I find it more interesting how much he reminds me of Jason. To me it has always been in glimpses. He has grown this last year, and was reeling when I offered him a couple of Jason's smallest t-shirts to wear. Worried I was opening a can of worms with the rest of the kids, I knew that it was something special to him...and the fact he needed them literally and figuratively. I see Jason in Oscar's mannerisms, his temperament, and unfortunately his lack of wanting to communicate. I know it will take time, but it's the time that passes us by that I know I can't get back...and that stings. I know he feels like a number in this house, one of the 289 things a day I dread knowing. The unspoken thing still and will always be that he wants more time just he and I. While I wish I could give him all he wants, at least I know it's something I can actually fix. Relentlessly wanting to fix what can't be...reminding myself that I am missing the ability to be superhuman for my kids. Who is really?
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