...why do I start days like today in any other way than "...it's Thursday"? The fact that it is Christmas Eve, a full moon, and clearly where bizarre world meets chaos world somewhere in the nexus of the universe..."...it's Thursday" would have just made more sense.
Getting anyone anywhere in this house is like some TSA video of what could possibly go wrong. Mind you, if we are just going no where, we get there, no drama, anarchy or blood shed. If we have to be somewhere by a set time...forget it. Someone hates their shirt. Someone can't find their belt. Someone doesn't like their hair. Someone isn't tall enough...the list goes on. I even try to trick myself by pretending we need to be there earlier, all will run smoothly...never.
Now, today, like most holidays of this quarter, was spent with me nearly having a nervous breakdown of one more damned thing broken in this house that I don't know how to fix...Deep breathes were taken, gum vigorously chewed, and the announcement given that if one more expensive thing gets broken in this house, I'm out...they can just go it alone. Crazy threat I know, but seriously much better than the things running through my head earlier. So, I had a cocktail.
Tonight was different. It was Christmas Eve...I had signed us up to be greeters, readers, and Nora got to play the piano...all within 2 hours...seems easily accomplished. I thought I had bitten off more than I could chew when Atticus began giving death glares to anyone walking in. He then proceeded to spend the next two hours not so subtly letting anyone in a 4 foot radius know he didn't want to be there...Merry Freaking Christmas kid, was what it looked like people were thinking...I know I was.
Nora did a great job. She's sort of an interpretive piano player, and her piano teacher is very patient. Oscar did well reading, even though it looked like it freaked the bejesus out of him to do so. He was paid a few compliments on how much guts it takes to get up there and read. I'm not sure if it's pushed him into a new calling. But the most reverent part of the evening...the one time all year that you know probably holds a special place in some one's heart who attends church...the carrying of the baby Jesus to the manger...hopefully nobody saw...
Originally, Atticus was asked to carry the baby Jesus statue. I thought what a cool thing he gets to do? About 2 minutes into church and I thought, OH HECK NO is that going to work. Nora was bestowed the honor to which she high-fived an invisible person when she was told. Now, I didn't think I had to tell Nora what to do, she's seen it done before. She knew what an honor it was...It wasn't until she was walking the baby Jesus down the aisle and having it wave at everyone...Yeah, explanation was clearly needed...and yeah, people saw. I doubt we get asked next year. But, this year everyone was made to understand the notion, Jesus was friendly at birth*...Merry Christmas to you from our baby Jesus waving family...
*thank you Strock
Thursday, December 24, 2015
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
...chocolate covered orange slices...
Time. I look at that word and it means a million things to me. This last month, time has been almost a curse word in the effort of finding more, using it wisely, and watching it fly past you like a screaming fire truck. But also, in the hustle and bustle of getting all of the "things" you think you need to get done during this time of year. "Time" has sort of gently slapped me in the face a few frequently...like someone being awoken from an accidental sleep. "Time" has been reminding me of a few things that are just taken for granted in this house, not purposefully, merely in the effort to move forward.
I have this tiny human in my house. He is thoughtful, quiet at times, creative, curious, mischievous, stubborn, and at the heart of it all very loving. Today he came up to me, and I asked him what was wrong. He hugged me around the leg and said, "...nothing, just loving on you". He isn't old enough to know that it's uncool to show affection to his mom. He isn't old enough to understand that I'm all he has had in the way of a parent. He couldn't possibly remember his dad, of whom he takes after so greatly. I find myself wondering how in the world is it possible he's grown so much. Counting time has become a different process for me. It's before our life changed and after. It's hard for me to imagine that Atticus is the same age Nora was when Jason passed away. All this time, time...makes me wonder what might have been.
I feel like I've been given these little gifts lately...filling a void in the most unlikely of places. Someone will say something to me, or I will hear my kids say a phrase, and it seriously reminds me of Jason. I sit and think sometimes, I wonder what life would have been like with 6 people in this house...I cannot get to that point. It's like we had to start living our lives, and it's really all we know anymore. All the while understanding that moving forward didn't mean we weren't occasionally looking in the rearview mirror...but it's like we don't have to or it's unnecessary. Our lives are what they are because we have each other. Our memories are what we have made and continue to make together...however, the ever subtle nudges I get ever so gently, I know I'm being given a sign that someone on the other side is paying attention.
I am mentally making myself slow down...slow my mouth...slow my temper...slow my answers...slow my "time" down. I'm only going to get this time with my kids once. I'm only going to see the magic of this season in their eyes for a few more years. I'm only going to understand that what comes out of my mouth will really be what makes or breaks an evening. As I was putting Nora to bed tonight she asked if I would want to write a book for kids. I said, well I didn't know, I wasn't a kid and maybe I would need her help since she is. She said, "...well, the first thing I want to write about is how if you mess around at the dinner table and spill your milk, your mom is probably going to get pis....wait, I can't say that word, but I know you really were..." And, I mentally made a NOTE.
I feel like for the first time in a long while, my kids understand what this time of year is about. Maybe it's because there are more of them in school? Maybe because they are at an age where they understand our dynamic? My kids came home a little late from school the other day. Oscar walked right in, and put something in my stocking. I figured it was a school project that he fashioned into a Christmas treasure. As I was opening up Nora's said school-project-Christmas-treasure tonight, he asked if I wanted to open my gift in my stocking. I said I would wait. He then went on and on about how he spent his own money not at school to buy this gift, and they all went after school to get it...? I saw the pride on Oscar's face, a glint in his eye I hadn't ever seen before. They all were looking at me grinning, as if they all had this secret. I said, "...O M Gosh, you bought me chocolate covered orange slices?!" And they all started cheering!
In that moment...I felt like I was given possibly the best Christmas gift of all time. The notion that my kids, first of all, listened to anything I might have mentioned I liked. Found the money, perhaps that I didn't confiscate from the laundry. They went into a store, with the intention of making a purchase not for themselves. To me...that was a gift better than time...better than anything I will probably get this year, because it was a gift that was given straight to my heart. Someday, I hope my kids read this and understand that I know I'm not perfect. I know I mess up a lot. I know my temper is like that of someone at a wrestling match. But the one thing I do that is the most important thing, more important than time could ever give me...is loving them.
I have this tiny human in my house. He is thoughtful, quiet at times, creative, curious, mischievous, stubborn, and at the heart of it all very loving. Today he came up to me, and I asked him what was wrong. He hugged me around the leg and said, "...nothing, just loving on you". He isn't old enough to know that it's uncool to show affection to his mom. He isn't old enough to understand that I'm all he has had in the way of a parent. He couldn't possibly remember his dad, of whom he takes after so greatly. I find myself wondering how in the world is it possible he's grown so much. Counting time has become a different process for me. It's before our life changed and after. It's hard for me to imagine that Atticus is the same age Nora was when Jason passed away. All this time, time...makes me wonder what might have been.
I feel like I've been given these little gifts lately...filling a void in the most unlikely of places. Someone will say something to me, or I will hear my kids say a phrase, and it seriously reminds me of Jason. I sit and think sometimes, I wonder what life would have been like with 6 people in this house...I cannot get to that point. It's like we had to start living our lives, and it's really all we know anymore. All the while understanding that moving forward didn't mean we weren't occasionally looking in the rearview mirror...but it's like we don't have to or it's unnecessary. Our lives are what they are because we have each other. Our memories are what we have made and continue to make together...however, the ever subtle nudges I get ever so gently, I know I'm being given a sign that someone on the other side is paying attention.
I am mentally making myself slow down...slow my mouth...slow my temper...slow my answers...slow my "time" down. I'm only going to get this time with my kids once. I'm only going to see the magic of this season in their eyes for a few more years. I'm only going to understand that what comes out of my mouth will really be what makes or breaks an evening. As I was putting Nora to bed tonight she asked if I would want to write a book for kids. I said, well I didn't know, I wasn't a kid and maybe I would need her help since she is. She said, "...well, the first thing I want to write about is how if you mess around at the dinner table and spill your milk, your mom is probably going to get pis....wait, I can't say that word, but I know you really were..." And, I mentally made a NOTE.
I feel like for the first time in a long while, my kids understand what this time of year is about. Maybe it's because there are more of them in school? Maybe because they are at an age where they understand our dynamic? My kids came home a little late from school the other day. Oscar walked right in, and put something in my stocking. I figured it was a school project that he fashioned into a Christmas treasure. As I was opening up Nora's said school-project-Christmas-treasure tonight, he asked if I wanted to open my gift in my stocking. I said I would wait. He then went on and on about how he spent his own money not at school to buy this gift, and they all went after school to get it...? I saw the pride on Oscar's face, a glint in his eye I hadn't ever seen before. They all were looking at me grinning, as if they all had this secret. I said, "...O M Gosh, you bought me chocolate covered orange slices?!" And they all started cheering!
In that moment...I felt like I was given possibly the best Christmas gift of all time. The notion that my kids, first of all, listened to anything I might have mentioned I liked. Found the money, perhaps that I didn't confiscate from the laundry. They went into a store, with the intention of making a purchase not for themselves. To me...that was a gift better than time...better than anything I will probably get this year, because it was a gift that was given straight to my heart. Someday, I hope my kids read this and understand that I know I'm not perfect. I know I mess up a lot. I know my temper is like that of someone at a wrestling match. But the one thing I do that is the most important thing, more important than time could ever give me...is loving them.
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
...counted by 4s
...as a single mother, you question your actions, word choices, and time available. You question the quality vs. the quantity of everything, the meals you feed, the laundry you fold, the ability to multitask. It all comes to a rearing head when you add another thing to do in an already chaotic house of misfits...
Upon asking Nora to feed our new found four legged friend, she looks in the cupboard for the bowl and the food and utters, "...Well, who the hell put that up there?" I'm standing next to her as she's saying this. For a brief minute I don't know whether to be horrified or impressed by her use of the word. She said it with meaning. She used the correct meaning. It sounds like something I would say, and now appears I shouldn't say...and it's not even 7:15 a.m.
We have learned a large lesson in the last two weeks. While the addition of a dog to our family was not a whim, as I have been considering it since last Christmas, it has come with it's ample amount of obstacles. I have had a dog before...but never a dog AND four kids. I was hoping to instill some life lessons on my children by giving them a chance to take on some added responsibility. I originally figured, if we've lived this long and have done pretty well for ourselves, why not add another to the mix? Turns out, I probably should have really thought that through a bit further...as apparently, no one likes to walk the dog at night in their pajamas...no one likes to pick up random "gifts" left for us around the house...no one wants to put in the effort after a long day at school?...what? Really?
It came down to a discussion of who is doing more and whether they even want to do it. Ironically, the smallest Small is the one doing all the work along with me. At one point, in this very egalitarian conversation, Atticus states he misses the old days with no dog. He then stands up, walks across the room and sits next to me...as if to give a gesture of SOLIDARITY...it's a moment I won't forget. Time will tell if this new addition will be temporary of permanent...I haven't listed her as living her with the post office just yet.
The trials and tribulations of any family are something you are to learn from. The constant questioning on my end, self job evaluation, will be on going because if I stopped that's when I should probably be worried. With the holidays starting up, I'm noticing little things through my kids eyes. It reminds me that all of the pointless things that I do for them, that seem to go unnoticed, really are remembered. And for a moment, you can hear them recanting a story you once told about something in their hand...it's a nice invisible hug.
While going through some Christmas boxes I came upon these forgotten cards. One Thanksgiving after we had moved here I wrote up these cards for each of the kids. On each card I wrote the reasons I was thankful for them. I started reading them, and almost started crying. For all the days that I feel like I'm drowning, barely making it work, no longer care the profanity that comes either out of my mouth or my kids...On this day, when I sat down to write out the simple things about my kids that I love...I got it right.
Being reminded that you are surviving, thriving, at times swearing, is something that I don't think you ever stop needing. That reassurance that something so simple can build you up when you probably need it the most. The house hasn't burned down...I probably need to shower...this damned dog might kill my will at times...But I am forever grateful, knowing that my blessings are counted by 4s.
Upon asking Nora to feed our new found four legged friend, she looks in the cupboard for the bowl and the food and utters, "...Well, who the hell put that up there?" I'm standing next to her as she's saying this. For a brief minute I don't know whether to be horrified or impressed by her use of the word. She said it with meaning. She used the correct meaning. It sounds like something I would say, and now appears I shouldn't say...and it's not even 7:15 a.m.
We have learned a large lesson in the last two weeks. While the addition of a dog to our family was not a whim, as I have been considering it since last Christmas, it has come with it's ample amount of obstacles. I have had a dog before...but never a dog AND four kids. I was hoping to instill some life lessons on my children by giving them a chance to take on some added responsibility. I originally figured, if we've lived this long and have done pretty well for ourselves, why not add another to the mix? Turns out, I probably should have really thought that through a bit further...as apparently, no one likes to walk the dog at night in their pajamas...no one likes to pick up random "gifts" left for us around the house...no one wants to put in the effort after a long day at school?...what? Really?
It came down to a discussion of who is doing more and whether they even want to do it. Ironically, the smallest Small is the one doing all the work along with me. At one point, in this very egalitarian conversation, Atticus states he misses the old days with no dog. He then stands up, walks across the room and sits next to me...as if to give a gesture of SOLIDARITY...it's a moment I won't forget. Time will tell if this new addition will be temporary of permanent...I haven't listed her as living her with the post office just yet.
The trials and tribulations of any family are something you are to learn from. The constant questioning on my end, self job evaluation, will be on going because if I stopped that's when I should probably be worried. With the holidays starting up, I'm noticing little things through my kids eyes. It reminds me that all of the pointless things that I do for them, that seem to go unnoticed, really are remembered. And for a moment, you can hear them recanting a story you once told about something in their hand...it's a nice invisible hug.
While going through some Christmas boxes I came upon these forgotten cards. One Thanksgiving after we had moved here I wrote up these cards for each of the kids. On each card I wrote the reasons I was thankful for them. I started reading them, and almost started crying. For all the days that I feel like I'm drowning, barely making it work, no longer care the profanity that comes either out of my mouth or my kids...On this day, when I sat down to write out the simple things about my kids that I love...I got it right.
Being reminded that you are surviving, thriving, at times swearing, is something that I don't think you ever stop needing. That reassurance that something so simple can build you up when you probably need it the most. The house hasn't burned down...I probably need to shower...this damned dog might kill my will at times...But I am forever grateful, knowing that my blessings are counted by 4s.
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
...I want a new drug...
I don't care who knows it...I loved Huey Lewis and the News. My first record was their 1984 album Sports. I knew every song on that album word for word when I was 10 years old. Lately, a song has been playing in my head of theirs...unusual really as you don't hear a lot of them these days. It wasn't until the other day when I was confronted with a statement from Nora, the song's lyrics made sense.
Nora walked in from school, put her book bag down, and said, "Mom, we need to talk..." I turned and looked at her. With the most serious face she says to me, "...Mom...I don't know how to tell you this...you're a drug addict, you drink beer and coffee..." I asked her how health class was today, and then told her that I don't really drink beer. She then asked,"...what about the coffee, it's a drug you know?!" I told her that I was a single mother of four, and if she could walk into the grocery store and buy what I drink in the pre-dawn hours of the day, it wasn't a drug.
Saturday it will be 3 years since Jason has passed. At times it is a struggle to try and remember what life was like. Other times, it's as easy as blinking. I've had conversations with my kids. The Talls told me that they don't really remember what it was like with their dad here. I told them that the daily routine wasn't worth remembering half as much as just things about Jason. While it terrifies me to be that open with them, I'm grateful at the same time that we have some sort of dialog open. Some have extended dialog, others would rather retell me fart jokes than deal with 'feelings'. We are at a strange interchange. At times I am left wondering if what my kids are going through at times is grief or just adolescent bullshit. Are they dealing, or do I just want to take drugs to deal with them?
There is a stunning lack of notion of the phrase ROLE MODEL in this house. The fact that Nora and I are outnumbered by boys is bad enough. When you add the tiniest member to the Merry-Band-Of- Weirdos? That's when I hit the wall. I realize that no one thinks it's cool to be a role model anymore, but at this point I've contemplated paying for that service in this house. The way you treat others is a direct reflection on how you want to be treated...(crickets)...the golden rule...(crickets). I swear to Mary, Jesus, and Joseph if you teach your brother or sister to say that limerick, ever, I'm letting the Amish pick you up on Tuesday!...seems to get the point across, for a while.
It's strange, but I always wondered what 3 years would look like...when I couldn't even begin to understand how I would make any of this work. I wondered if we would get our act together. I wondered if it would be easier, more light hearted, less painful, normal. Who knew that the answer to those quandaries would be yes and no...to all of them at any given time. In the beginning I had my habits, my methods, my time alone to quietly deal with stuff...that time is few and far between anymore. Things that once helped me through aren't working...to quote Huey Lewis "...I Want A New Drug..." Figuratively speaking of course.
Today, I was given a compliment that I probably will never forget and I don't think it was even intended to be. A dear friend that I have made here in Canton told me that even though she really never met Jason, she feels like she knew him based on us...our family...the stories we've told...how we interact...and that Jason had to have been a great guy, he picked me to spend his life with. It made me not wonder where we'd be in 3 years, but grateful where I have been and where we have been in the last 3 years. The way we've grown, things we've done, and how very far we have come. My heart aches for my kids, rather routinely, that they don't have this one person missing from their lives. My mind reaches to tell them stories they might have never heard before about their dad. My soul knows that no matter how I would have planned my life, this is how it was supposed to be, lucky enough to have known and loved, blessed beyond measure from the beyond, and forever grateful for the stories that come with it...and yes, at times it has come with a bourbon.
Nora walked in from school, put her book bag down, and said, "Mom, we need to talk..." I turned and looked at her. With the most serious face she says to me, "...Mom...I don't know how to tell you this...you're a drug addict, you drink beer and coffee..." I asked her how health class was today, and then told her that I don't really drink beer. She then asked,"...what about the coffee, it's a drug you know?!" I told her that I was a single mother of four, and if she could walk into the grocery store and buy what I drink in the pre-dawn hours of the day, it wasn't a drug.
Saturday it will be 3 years since Jason has passed. At times it is a struggle to try and remember what life was like. Other times, it's as easy as blinking. I've had conversations with my kids. The Talls told me that they don't really remember what it was like with their dad here. I told them that the daily routine wasn't worth remembering half as much as just things about Jason. While it terrifies me to be that open with them, I'm grateful at the same time that we have some sort of dialog open. Some have extended dialog, others would rather retell me fart jokes than deal with 'feelings'. We are at a strange interchange. At times I am left wondering if what my kids are going through at times is grief or just adolescent bullshit. Are they dealing, or do I just want to take drugs to deal with them?
There is a stunning lack of notion of the phrase ROLE MODEL in this house. The fact that Nora and I are outnumbered by boys is bad enough. When you add the tiniest member to the Merry-Band-Of- Weirdos? That's when I hit the wall. I realize that no one thinks it's cool to be a role model anymore, but at this point I've contemplated paying for that service in this house. The way you treat others is a direct reflection on how you want to be treated...(crickets)...the golden rule...(crickets). I swear to Mary, Jesus, and Joseph if you teach your brother or sister to say that limerick, ever, I'm letting the Amish pick you up on Tuesday!...seems to get the point across, for a while.
It's strange, but I always wondered what 3 years would look like...when I couldn't even begin to understand how I would make any of this work. I wondered if we would get our act together. I wondered if it would be easier, more light hearted, less painful, normal. Who knew that the answer to those quandaries would be yes and no...to all of them at any given time. In the beginning I had my habits, my methods, my time alone to quietly deal with stuff...that time is few and far between anymore. Things that once helped me through aren't working...to quote Huey Lewis "...I Want A New Drug..." Figuratively speaking of course.
Today, I was given a compliment that I probably will never forget and I don't think it was even intended to be. A dear friend that I have made here in Canton told me that even though she really never met Jason, she feels like she knew him based on us...our family...the stories we've told...how we interact...and that Jason had to have been a great guy, he picked me to spend his life with. It made me not wonder where we'd be in 3 years, but grateful where I have been and where we have been in the last 3 years. The way we've grown, things we've done, and how very far we have come. My heart aches for my kids, rather routinely, that they don't have this one person missing from their lives. My mind reaches to tell them stories they might have never heard before about their dad. My soul knows that no matter how I would have planned my life, this is how it was supposed to be, lucky enough to have known and loved, blessed beyond measure from the beyond, and forever grateful for the stories that come with it...and yes, at times it has come with a bourbon.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
...a bat in the house sucks...
...constant: regularly recurrent; continual; persistent...
There are a few things in everyone's world that are a constant...something you can always rely on happening, cringe worthy or not. These are a few of mine...
...only being 'alone' when you are cleaning the house...the only time no one cares where you are...
...some child always walks in when you are putting on/taking off your bra
...brothers always pick on sisters
...raising boys, you are bound to have to tell someone to do something with their penis
...raising girls, you are bound to have to tell them that they are over accessorized
...drama will always follow wrestling...
...creativity is beautiful, but not on the kitchen floor...
...laundry is the never ending job of a mother...
...knowing 'nothing' as a mother is perpetual and persistent
...seeing pain in your kids eyes is never easy...
...a 3yr. old's ability to speak openly, and while you may be used to it, no one else ever is...
...explaining why you have the body parts you do to a child...
...a bat in the house sucks...
...brushing teeth isn't a chore, it's a necessary life skill...
...responsibility looks great until you have it...
...game night is always looked forward to...
...no one ever turns down a doughnut...
...boys rooms always smell like a science lab...
...tampons are not toys...
...kids will repeat everything they hear...at the worst possible times...
Then there are those constants that you take for granted. Those things that inevitably happen, but remind you that there is purpose in life. These moments are what lift you up when you are down...put a smile on your face when you want to cry...revive a weary soul at the end of a day. These are a few of mine...
...listening to a child read for the first time...
...hearing someone say I love you...
...watching four kids dance around the living room to Lawrence Welk...
...laughing with friends...
...having someone understand your flaws...and still appreciate you...
...watching your kids nurture each other...
...knowing your kids are going to be amazing humans...even if they're wearing an orange jumpsuit...
...knowing someone who can make you smile with your eyes
...watching your kids become independent...
...everyone eating their dinner...
...traditions everyone wants to keep...
...looking at someone and feeling blessed to have them in your life
...watching a plan, one you've obsessed about in your head, actually work...
...when opportunity arises, no matter if you are ready, go for it
...understanding that life can prove you wrong over and over again
While some of these constants you wish would go away, others are there to show you that you hope they never do. The unvarying occurrence is something you can depend on, when you have little else to depend on. Life is full of things you might not be ready for, at least you can depend on your constants.
Then there are those constants that you take for granted. Those things that inevitably happen, but remind you that there is purpose in life. These moments are what lift you up when you are down...put a smile on your face when you want to cry...revive a weary soul at the end of a day. These are a few of mine...
...listening to a child read for the first time...
...hearing someone say I love you...
...watching four kids dance around the living room to Lawrence Welk...
...laughing with friends...
...having someone understand your flaws...and still appreciate you...
...watching your kids nurture each other...
...knowing your kids are going to be amazing humans...even if they're wearing an orange jumpsuit...
...knowing someone who can make you smile with your eyes
...watching your kids become independent...
...everyone eating their dinner...
...traditions everyone wants to keep...
...looking at someone and feeling blessed to have them in your life
...watching a plan, one you've obsessed about in your head, actually work...
...when opportunity arises, no matter if you are ready, go for it
...understanding that life can prove you wrong over and over again
While some of these constants you wish would go away, others are there to show you that you hope they never do. The unvarying occurrence is something you can depend on, when you have little else to depend on. Life is full of things you might not be ready for, at least you can depend on your constants.
Sunday, August 30, 2015
...safety word
Sometimes lately, I feel like throwing in the towel and I hate it. I'm not sure if I was mentally unprepared for the start of school...or unable to get into a routine again once school has started? Lately I feel like I am seemingly at the brink and out of ammo. Wishing sometimes I could just schedule a mental breakdown in advance, be it for me or my children, just to know it's arrival and departure...Tuesdays at 2:17? Sure that will work. But life doesn't give you the luxury of doing that, I guess I can dare to dream.
In two days Atticus starts preschool. I've been asked numerous times, "...what will you do with your free time?" I always find it funny that people say that. It's not like a week's vacation. It's not like I'm being sent to an island paradise, with cabana servers and a fruity cocktail...It's only four hours a week that I will be alone. But to be honest, it is just as foreign as a vacation...time alone. I don't normally get that during daylight hours. I could count on one hand the times that I have been alone in my own house. It is going to be odd, wonderful, strange, exciting, and bizarre all at the same time. I've waited 11 years for this...sounds unusual to say it like that but it's true. With every other child that has started school, I was pregnant with another one, and the notion of being alone was, well, and alien concept. Right now I'm just happy I have four hours a week that I won't have to worry where Atticus has escaped to...
That's right. I have a little wanderer on my hands. He asks to go outside, and I tell him he has to stay in our yard until I get out there with him. He looks up at me with those big blue eyes, smiling with his dimples deep enough to swim laps in, and he says, "...yes Mommy, I will stay in our yard." Cut to me 4 minutes later, I'm outside looking for him. I wondered if he wandered in to go to the bathroom when I wasn't looking. The next thing I know, he's walking out of the neighbors' back door. The same neighbors (sainted by the way) that he just walked right into their house and started playing with their son. HOLY CRAP! I'm THAT mom. The one who's kid wanders away and into people's homes! Thankfully, I can also look at it like my neighbors are so nurturing Atticus is comfortable to be in their home...either way, the kid is going to give me a drinking problem.
I despise giving up, giving in, or throwing in the towel. There's no shame in it, knowing your limits means knowing yourself...understanding your strengths and your weaknesses. But admitting these things to yourself? Seeing them pointed out to you by your children? Or having to remind said children that there is only one adult living in this house, therefore life is different than "so-in-so" here. We have limits financially. The mental clock-out time of this adult, and the only one in this house, is possibly earlier than they would like to go to their room at night-I cannot wait for the time change in the fall. I guess I should be happy that they don't see the differences that we have with most families they know, but having to admit defeat...makes me feel already defeated.
Then tonight, while the Talls and the Smalls were wearing off their dessert, they started playing this bizarre game of dog pile. Clearly, it wasn't their first time playing it. Oscar says he'll be on the bottom first, but as soon as he says "get off" everyone has to get off of him. Abe immediately chimes in and says "No, no! You need to say PORK CHOPS!" I was like what? A safety word? And that's what they did. They all piled by age order onto Oscar. Nora was squealing the loudest, as this was the closest thing to a hug she gets from her brothers, and Atticus strategically using the coffee table to jump off of to land on top of the pile. There would have been a time when I would not have been able to watch them do this. There would have been a time when I would have been too worried that they were being rowdy and rough. But, fascinated by their use of a "safety word"...it put a lot of things into perspective in an instant. When you're getting ready to loose your shit, throw in the towel, or just give up...maybe you just need to yell out PORK CHOPS?! Maybe...
In two days Atticus starts preschool. I've been asked numerous times, "...what will you do with your free time?" I always find it funny that people say that. It's not like a week's vacation. It's not like I'm being sent to an island paradise, with cabana servers and a fruity cocktail...It's only four hours a week that I will be alone. But to be honest, it is just as foreign as a vacation...time alone. I don't normally get that during daylight hours. I could count on one hand the times that I have been alone in my own house. It is going to be odd, wonderful, strange, exciting, and bizarre all at the same time. I've waited 11 years for this...sounds unusual to say it like that but it's true. With every other child that has started school, I was pregnant with another one, and the notion of being alone was, well, and alien concept. Right now I'm just happy I have four hours a week that I won't have to worry where Atticus has escaped to...
That's right. I have a little wanderer on my hands. He asks to go outside, and I tell him he has to stay in our yard until I get out there with him. He looks up at me with those big blue eyes, smiling with his dimples deep enough to swim laps in, and he says, "...yes Mommy, I will stay in our yard." Cut to me 4 minutes later, I'm outside looking for him. I wondered if he wandered in to go to the bathroom when I wasn't looking. The next thing I know, he's walking out of the neighbors' back door. The same neighbors (sainted by the way) that he just walked right into their house and started playing with their son. HOLY CRAP! I'm THAT mom. The one who's kid wanders away and into people's homes! Thankfully, I can also look at it like my neighbors are so nurturing Atticus is comfortable to be in their home...either way, the kid is going to give me a drinking problem.
I despise giving up, giving in, or throwing in the towel. There's no shame in it, knowing your limits means knowing yourself...understanding your strengths and your weaknesses. But admitting these things to yourself? Seeing them pointed out to you by your children? Or having to remind said children that there is only one adult living in this house, therefore life is different than "so-in-so" here. We have limits financially. The mental clock-out time of this adult, and the only one in this house, is possibly earlier than they would like to go to their room at night-I cannot wait for the time change in the fall. I guess I should be happy that they don't see the differences that we have with most families they know, but having to admit defeat...makes me feel already defeated.
Then tonight, while the Talls and the Smalls were wearing off their dessert, they started playing this bizarre game of dog pile. Clearly, it wasn't their first time playing it. Oscar says he'll be on the bottom first, but as soon as he says "get off" everyone has to get off of him. Abe immediately chimes in and says "No, no! You need to say PORK CHOPS!" I was like what? A safety word? And that's what they did. They all piled by age order onto Oscar. Nora was squealing the loudest, as this was the closest thing to a hug she gets from her brothers, and Atticus strategically using the coffee table to jump off of to land on top of the pile. There would have been a time when I would not have been able to watch them do this. There would have been a time when I would have been too worried that they were being rowdy and rough. But, fascinated by their use of a "safety word"...it put a lot of things into perspective in an instant. When you're getting ready to loose your shit, throw in the towel, or just give up...maybe you just need to yell out PORK CHOPS?! Maybe...
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
...solidarity sister...
We're coming up on six years of solidarity. I cannot even tell you how excited I was to be bringing a person into the world who did not need to stand to pee. It's not that I didn't already love the boys in my life, it was just nice to know I was going to have a ally at the end of it all. I have been blessed beyond measure with this solidarity I was given almost 6 years ago...
I speak of her often mainly because she speaks, OFTEN. She has no filter, and while sometimes that can be maddening, other times it is just what I need at the end of the day. Her wisdom is beyond her years and her ability to cut right through a situation is something I hope she never looses. She understands the necessity of being able to understand that sometimes life is not fair, even when she's angry that she doesn't have a penis...her exact words...ah, the life of being out numbered.
She starts school this year on her birthday, for that I am grateful. I'm hoping it helps to quell her separation anxiety. She's excited about school lunch, and she's been told to make friends with the lunch ladies, they are some of the best people when you are a kid. The only thing she fears currently is the fact that at some point they'll be serving green beans, "...my arch nemesis!" as she calls them. We went to school today to drop off school supplies and it turns out her teacher has a birthday this week too. They decided to celebrate their birthdays on the teacher's birthday because it's on Friday, to which Nora asked if there would be dancing? I don't envy her teacher...
While the birthday short list included a treadmill, she has decided that she will ask for a metal detector for Christmas...who wants to get all the big stuff at once? She might be disappointed at her gifts. She finally decided on what sort of birthday cake she wants, and I have to say it will be a cinch! It seems the older they get the easier their requests are. She originally wanted to eat at a truck stop for her birthday dinner, because she likes the spaghetti and meatballs there. But, the boys have talked her into a family favorite Italian place.
I'm sure that the word "karma" comes into play at times with her antics, but it's just who she is. The things that come out of her mouth, well I wish I could make this crap up, but it's all her. Her brain is sometimes going 88 miles an hour, but her heart is almost as big as she is. She was the first person I saw Jason physically melt over...even if she screamed at him the first few months of her life during her late night feedings. My one wish for her, of which I cannot give her, is for her to see how crazy Jason was about her. How just plain stupid he would get around her, because she had seriously pinched a special place in his heart. My hope is that one day, she will find another man who adores her as much as he did. However, I know I am guaranteed a forever best friend, my solidarity sister...my Nora...
I speak of her often mainly because she speaks, OFTEN. She has no filter, and while sometimes that can be maddening, other times it is just what I need at the end of the day. Her wisdom is beyond her years and her ability to cut right through a situation is something I hope she never looses. She understands the necessity of being able to understand that sometimes life is not fair, even when she's angry that she doesn't have a penis...her exact words...ah, the life of being out numbered.
She starts school this year on her birthday, for that I am grateful. I'm hoping it helps to quell her separation anxiety. She's excited about school lunch, and she's been told to make friends with the lunch ladies, they are some of the best people when you are a kid. The only thing she fears currently is the fact that at some point they'll be serving green beans, "...my arch nemesis!" as she calls them. We went to school today to drop off school supplies and it turns out her teacher has a birthday this week too. They decided to celebrate their birthdays on the teacher's birthday because it's on Friday, to which Nora asked if there would be dancing? I don't envy her teacher...
While the birthday short list included a treadmill, she has decided that she will ask for a metal detector for Christmas...who wants to get all the big stuff at once? She might be disappointed at her gifts. She finally decided on what sort of birthday cake she wants, and I have to say it will be a cinch! It seems the older they get the easier their requests are. She originally wanted to eat at a truck stop for her birthday dinner, because she likes the spaghetti and meatballs there. But, the boys have talked her into a family favorite Italian place.
I'm sure that the word "karma" comes into play at times with her antics, but it's just who she is. The things that come out of her mouth, well I wish I could make this crap up, but it's all her. Her brain is sometimes going 88 miles an hour, but her heart is almost as big as she is. She was the first person I saw Jason physically melt over...even if she screamed at him the first few months of her life during her late night feedings. My one wish for her, of which I cannot give her, is for her to see how crazy Jason was about her. How just plain stupid he would get around her, because she had seriously pinched a special place in his heart. My hope is that one day, she will find another man who adores her as much as he did. However, I know I am guaranteed a forever best friend, my solidarity sister...my Nora...
Sunday, August 9, 2015
...liberation
LIBERATION: emancipation, salvation, release...All of these words mean the same thing. To a single mother of four, who has been a stay at home mom for 11 years, their meanings are more heavily weighed than can actually be described. The words alone cannot come close to the feelings that are associated with them. And while I am not totally there yet, seeing these words on the horizon definitely changes the day to day game.
It's here. Just a scant few days and school will be starting. We're armed with supplies, a new outfit, backpacks and the mindset that also must go along with a new year of adventure. I have friends who are sending their last ones off to school this year. They are saddened by this milestone, and I understand but I couldn't relate...getting everyone into school has been my subliminal goal for the last 3 years...
I couldn't relate until Atticus picked out a backpack for preschool yesterday. Such a simple act. He stood there, really just wanting a thermos, but deciding what bag he wanted. It sort of hit me...Life is indeed moving on. Watching him, proudly pick up that backpack. His posture changed, his face changed. It gave me a frenzied combination of feeling sadness and LIBERATION. It was like I was watching him grow right before my eyes. How was this possible? What will I do with actual "free time"? The options are limitless! But we are not quite there yet, so I have some time to figure that one out...
However, the feeling of liberation has set in in other ways this week. Upon talking to Oscar about having a babysitter, he bluntly stated, "...why can't I just babysit?" I was shocked he even wanted to. I was beginning to tell him that he just wasn't old enough while I was looking up the Missouri laws, and there it was...11. 11? Really, eleven is old enough? As I was reading aloud I looked up to see a giant smirk on his face. He plainly said next, "...well, it's the law.." So, considering I was only going down the street for a while I decided to let him. We discussed the rules, the jobs he had to fulfill, and of course the payment. I questioned his ability to be able to be taken seriously, or even act responsibly and I was slightly ashamed I felt those things when I cam home. I came home to find everyone had had a bath, the house clean (he even got out the vacuum), all in bed and nothing broken...ah, liberation...
The feeling of it being ground hog day is the best way to describe my life at times. Everyday is just about the same from when the sun comes up until it sets. But now, things are shifting. The daily tasks, while mainly still done by me, are becoming things I don't have to do alone. The mindset that responsibility can mean more than just mowing the lawn and not getting paid for it. The feeling of liberation abounds and it has given me a special twinkle in my eye...so if you see me and I look like I might be tweaked out on something...don't call the authorities, it's just a little LIBERATION kicking in...
It's here. Just a scant few days and school will be starting. We're armed with supplies, a new outfit, backpacks and the mindset that also must go along with a new year of adventure. I have friends who are sending their last ones off to school this year. They are saddened by this milestone, and I understand but I couldn't relate...getting everyone into school has been my subliminal goal for the last 3 years...
I couldn't relate until Atticus picked out a backpack for preschool yesterday. Such a simple act. He stood there, really just wanting a thermos, but deciding what bag he wanted. It sort of hit me...Life is indeed moving on. Watching him, proudly pick up that backpack. His posture changed, his face changed. It gave me a frenzied combination of feeling sadness and LIBERATION. It was like I was watching him grow right before my eyes. How was this possible? What will I do with actual "free time"? The options are limitless! But we are not quite there yet, so I have some time to figure that one out...
However, the feeling of liberation has set in in other ways this week. Upon talking to Oscar about having a babysitter, he bluntly stated, "...why can't I just babysit?" I was shocked he even wanted to. I was beginning to tell him that he just wasn't old enough while I was looking up the Missouri laws, and there it was...11. 11? Really, eleven is old enough? As I was reading aloud I looked up to see a giant smirk on his face. He plainly said next, "...well, it's the law.." So, considering I was only going down the street for a while I decided to let him. We discussed the rules, the jobs he had to fulfill, and of course the payment. I questioned his ability to be able to be taken seriously, or even act responsibly and I was slightly ashamed I felt those things when I cam home. I came home to find everyone had had a bath, the house clean (he even got out the vacuum), all in bed and nothing broken...ah, liberation...
The feeling of it being ground hog day is the best way to describe my life at times. Everyday is just about the same from when the sun comes up until it sets. But now, things are shifting. The daily tasks, while mainly still done by me, are becoming things I don't have to do alone. The mindset that responsibility can mean more than just mowing the lawn and not getting paid for it. The feeling of liberation abounds and it has given me a special twinkle in my eye...so if you see me and I look like I might be tweaked out on something...don't call the authorities, it's just a little LIBERATION kicking in...
Sunday, August 2, 2015
...This week, on a very special episode of The Hunt Family Ranch...
...separation anxiety, masturbation, summoning of spirits, puberty smells, potty training, a slowly breaking down dishwasher, and a notice that it will cost $2000 to fix my mini-van (ugh, I hate those last hyphenated words)...No, your leg is not hurting because we are not having dessert...No, you have asked 6 times in the last hour to go to Steak-N-Shake...No, we are not going to Disneyworld...No, you have no need to drink coffee, you haven't suffered enough of life yet. This...was...my...week.
Potty training...while crossing my legs and fingers, is working...Thanks to some very beautiful friends who steered me to the use of THE MOON. It has been hilarious to watch the rest of those who wear underwear step in and manage situations before I can even get to them. The best was when Abe said, "...Mom, you are not going to like where Atticus went to the bathroom..." Thankfully, comforters can be washed. Gratefully, 20 pairs of tiny underwear take little to know room in my washing machine. Delightedly, hopefully, optimistically, we are on the road to the toilet forever...probably should start teaching him how to clean it next...
Separation anxiety is a very real thing. It's more real when you've lost a parent. It's hard to tell a child the slight lie of "nothing is ever going to happen to me", because let's face it- I don't know that. Harder still to have to lie and say that when in your head you're thinking even if you were with me every minute of the day something could still happen to me. The fears my kids have aren't the same of their friends, thankfully they don't really understand that, and I hope they never will.
The discussion of masturbation was interesting, terrifying, and I thought quick on my feet for responses. Somehow I parlayed it into the notion of eating ice cream for every meal, it wouldn't be good for you to do all the time...? It won't be the last conversation about the topic, but I'm armed with answers for the next time it comes around- here's hoping never...and that's all I will say about that.
I had a very consoling conversation the other day. We were talking about the phrase, "...everything happens for a reason..." My friend said, and nearly read my mind, that's crap. Why in the world would some things happen? Do you think God wanted that to happen? She went on to say, she never says that to someone, she just tells them "...you know what? Life just sucks sometimes. Sucky things happen to good people for no reason, and that sucks" I loved it. I love her for her honesty and her ability in that moment to bring together what was going on in my head. I needed to hear that because it broke it down to the very core. So, with this knowledge you take what's thrown at you, hope to duck and move on...
The fact that I am a mother, I will never begrudge. The fact that I get to see these people who came from me grow and flourish, I will never begrudge. The fact that I have had some very real conversations this week, knowing full well each one of my words must be chosen carefully and tactfully, has had my brain in overload. It's like we are an afterschool special in this house this week. I'm waiting to see the promo on TV, "...This week, on a very special episode of The Hunt Family Ranch..." I think I need to buy bigger bottles of vodka...
Potty training...while crossing my legs and fingers, is working...Thanks to some very beautiful friends who steered me to the use of THE MOON. It has been hilarious to watch the rest of those who wear underwear step in and manage situations before I can even get to them. The best was when Abe said, "...Mom, you are not going to like where Atticus went to the bathroom..." Thankfully, comforters can be washed. Gratefully, 20 pairs of tiny underwear take little to know room in my washing machine. Delightedly, hopefully, optimistically, we are on the road to the toilet forever...probably should start teaching him how to clean it next...
Separation anxiety is a very real thing. It's more real when you've lost a parent. It's hard to tell a child the slight lie of "nothing is ever going to happen to me", because let's face it- I don't know that. Harder still to have to lie and say that when in your head you're thinking even if you were with me every minute of the day something could still happen to me. The fears my kids have aren't the same of their friends, thankfully they don't really understand that, and I hope they never will.
The discussion of masturbation was interesting, terrifying, and I thought quick on my feet for responses. Somehow I parlayed it into the notion of eating ice cream for every meal, it wouldn't be good for you to do all the time...? It won't be the last conversation about the topic, but I'm armed with answers for the next time it comes around- here's hoping never...and that's all I will say about that.
I had a very consoling conversation the other day. We were talking about the phrase, "...everything happens for a reason..." My friend said, and nearly read my mind, that's crap. Why in the world would some things happen? Do you think God wanted that to happen? She went on to say, she never says that to someone, she just tells them "...you know what? Life just sucks sometimes. Sucky things happen to good people for no reason, and that sucks" I loved it. I love her for her honesty and her ability in that moment to bring together what was going on in my head. I needed to hear that because it broke it down to the very core. So, with this knowledge you take what's thrown at you, hope to duck and move on...
The fact that I am a mother, I will never begrudge. The fact that I get to see these people who came from me grow and flourish, I will never begrudge. The fact that I have had some very real conversations this week, knowing full well each one of my words must be chosen carefully and tactfully, has had my brain in overload. It's like we are an afterschool special in this house this week. I'm waiting to see the promo on TV, "...This week, on a very special episode of The Hunt Family Ranch..." I think I need to buy bigger bottles of vodka...
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
...screwed-the-pooch
...the audience was intently listening to the escape artist explain in great detail all about his various escapes made. They listened as he told stories of how and where all of his escapes had made him famous. It was not until he started showing the audience his collection of thumb and handcuffs and various neck shackles that I hear a familiar sound. It was when he brought out his neck shackles, I hear Abe in the front row say more than rather loudly, "...MY MOM NEEDS SOME OF THOSE..."
It's hard to break old habits. We are two weeks out from school starting. This year I am sending three eager kids off to school. They are ready. They are willing. And I imagine that will end about the cusp of September. The summer flew by us, and now I am mentally gearing up to start the routine of structure, homework, and with any luck earlier bed times. The habits we have acquired over the summer might be hard to break...harder still to have to admit that some of the habits you have aren't going to help you in the long run.
I say I'm only sending three kids to school, because I have a fourth child who has no desire to leap over the threshold of growing up. He has no desire to ever get out of diapers. He has no desire to even try. I am at the end of my quickly fraying mental rope trying to understand how to get through to him. Yes, it is the old habit of taking the easier route. These old habits of over looking the reality of what is before us, because "...we'll deal with that later..." Well, later starts September 1st, and at this point I'd say we screwed-the-pooch on that summer goal.
I'm excited about the school year starting, even more excited to watch Nora start school this year. She is more than ready and it will be fun to watch it through a new/female set of eyes. Hopefully she will be more descriptive of her day than her brothers were- got there, learned something, ate a snack, played outside, came home...However, with all of this new excitement, I'm finding it hard to juggle the things I might have praised myself for a year ago. It depresses me. I isolate myself at times because I don't want my dysfunction to hurt or spill onto other people and in the process I end up hurting them more. I just find myself not knowing if I'm overwhelmed or facing a bad habit in the face...the habit of avoidance.
I probably never consciously knew it at the time (maybe I did), but I used avoidance after Jason passed away like I might actually be getting paid to do so. For me it was easier to avoid having to deal with something I might be feeling, because I could always use the excuse that I didn't have time. I have four kids to try to navigate through an uncertain world. And I have been blessed with the very best people in my life, that knew they couldn't do the feeling for me, but were there for me. Again, it was my habit to avoid it, almost cocky enough to think that I wouldn't have to go back and pick up those feelings again...like I was some how superior.
Now I find myself, sort of stunted...like I'm tumbling backward at times, all because I didn't just face my habit. And now I find myself in a place where there is no choice but to. So, little did my volume-lacking son knew, I have a pair of neck shackles, in fact we all do...but they are invisible. They are the habits, the feelings, the fears, the avoidance that at times weigh us down, even when no one else can see them. I thankfully don't need a jet black toupee like the escape artist we saw today...But dealing with all of the above is how we will all inevitably escape...
It's hard to break old habits. We are two weeks out from school starting. This year I am sending three eager kids off to school. They are ready. They are willing. And I imagine that will end about the cusp of September. The summer flew by us, and now I am mentally gearing up to start the routine of structure, homework, and with any luck earlier bed times. The habits we have acquired over the summer might be hard to break...harder still to have to admit that some of the habits you have aren't going to help you in the long run.
I say I'm only sending three kids to school, because I have a fourth child who has no desire to leap over the threshold of growing up. He has no desire to ever get out of diapers. He has no desire to even try. I am at the end of my quickly fraying mental rope trying to understand how to get through to him. Yes, it is the old habit of taking the easier route. These old habits of over looking the reality of what is before us, because "...we'll deal with that later..." Well, later starts September 1st, and at this point I'd say we screwed-the-pooch on that summer goal.
I'm excited about the school year starting, even more excited to watch Nora start school this year. She is more than ready and it will be fun to watch it through a new/female set of eyes. Hopefully she will be more descriptive of her day than her brothers were- got there, learned something, ate a snack, played outside, came home...However, with all of this new excitement, I'm finding it hard to juggle the things I might have praised myself for a year ago. It depresses me. I isolate myself at times because I don't want my dysfunction to hurt or spill onto other people and in the process I end up hurting them more. I just find myself not knowing if I'm overwhelmed or facing a bad habit in the face...the habit of avoidance.
I probably never consciously knew it at the time (maybe I did), but I used avoidance after Jason passed away like I might actually be getting paid to do so. For me it was easier to avoid having to deal with something I might be feeling, because I could always use the excuse that I didn't have time. I have four kids to try to navigate through an uncertain world. And I have been blessed with the very best people in my life, that knew they couldn't do the feeling for me, but were there for me. Again, it was my habit to avoid it, almost cocky enough to think that I wouldn't have to go back and pick up those feelings again...like I was some how superior.
Now I find myself, sort of stunted...like I'm tumbling backward at times, all because I didn't just face my habit. And now I find myself in a place where there is no choice but to. So, little did my volume-lacking son knew, I have a pair of neck shackles, in fact we all do...but they are invisible. They are the habits, the feelings, the fears, the avoidance that at times weigh us down, even when no one else can see them. I thankfully don't need a jet black toupee like the escape artist we saw today...But dealing with all of the above is how we will all inevitably escape...
Thursday, July 9, 2015
...those fellas are trouble...
...why the hell did I schedule this appointment so damned early? It was a reflex I guess. Still, even before 8 am, I find it oddly soothing in the orthodontist's office. It's a time I can catch up on social media, reading and sort of tuning out...all the while the kids are entertained by the kiddie table. I can't be certain, but I think the receptionist has grown to love us. The volume changes when we walk in the door. Today I made sure to reinforce the notion, "...do you see how picked up this area is? When we leave it should look the same way..." But in all honesty, I didn't really care. It's just the sort of public-service-announcement that has to be said when you walk into a quiet office with what would appear to be four contestants on Lets Make A Deal...
While my best friend was visiting last week, we discussed... a lot. We have these chat sessions all the time, but when we are together, they seem to be more intense. We talked about where our lives were going. What we felt we wanted to do next. How our lives had changed. She reminded me that not two years ago, we sat, at times crying, but still discussing the same things...boldly (perhaps naively) thinking that we'd have it all figured out by now. But, the harsh reminders are, when you think you have one thing figured out, everything else grows and changes around it. Some of the things you worry about, while they are no longer on the surface anymore, they sort of morph into something different. I told her that I wished I could talk to Jason sometimes. I found it interesting that she asked me why? So, I told her that I wanted to talk to him sometimes to ask him if I was doing things right or what I should do next. Her answer will never leave my memory...She simply said, "...what could he tell you that you don't already know yourself? Why would he have all the answers? I think you might be giving him too much credit..."
I had to hold back a chortle today when someone asked pointing at the kids, "Are they all yours?" Now, in all honesty, in the summer, these kids look very different from each other. We have a wide variety of skin tones represented. I told someone the other day that my kids resemble a UNICEF advertisement. Nora answered first, "those fellas are trouble (pointing to her brothers, strangely sitting very quiet next to each other)" I turned around and said, " Those kids? Yes, every minute of every day...unless they were touching the mannequins, in which case I've never seen them before in my life..." As a mom, I constantly question where they are emotionally. I worry I am not maybe giving them the support they need when they freak out and do something completely asinine...I question what I need to do. I guess if I didn't I wouldn't be doing my job...
But, I'm beginning to realize that their antics might not have anything to do with the reality they've been given. It might just be that they are kids. Is it wrong that I find that oddly reassuring? I got a little sass talk the other day from one of the Talls, and it dawned on me, PRAISE JESUS, THEY'RE JUST BEING ANNOYING KIDS and nothing more. I actually started laughing. It was exciting to me that my "precious-gifts", this time being represented as an annoying 11year old, was not having an actual emotional crisis...he was just being a kid. And I'm beginning to realize that there no oracles on parenting. There are no books that can really help, because no one has all of the answers. For once, in a very long time, while knowing who my kids are, being clueless as to what they are going to try to pull next is just the kind of simpleminded cocktail that I will take...on a side note, laughing at a dramatic tween is actually kind of fun.
While my best friend was visiting last week, we discussed... a lot. We have these chat sessions all the time, but when we are together, they seem to be more intense. We talked about where our lives were going. What we felt we wanted to do next. How our lives had changed. She reminded me that not two years ago, we sat, at times crying, but still discussing the same things...boldly (perhaps naively) thinking that we'd have it all figured out by now. But, the harsh reminders are, when you think you have one thing figured out, everything else grows and changes around it. Some of the things you worry about, while they are no longer on the surface anymore, they sort of morph into something different. I told her that I wished I could talk to Jason sometimes. I found it interesting that she asked me why? So, I told her that I wanted to talk to him sometimes to ask him if I was doing things right or what I should do next. Her answer will never leave my memory...She simply said, "...what could he tell you that you don't already know yourself? Why would he have all the answers? I think you might be giving him too much credit..."
I had to hold back a chortle today when someone asked pointing at the kids, "Are they all yours?" Now, in all honesty, in the summer, these kids look very different from each other. We have a wide variety of skin tones represented. I told someone the other day that my kids resemble a UNICEF advertisement. Nora answered first, "those fellas are trouble (pointing to her brothers, strangely sitting very quiet next to each other)" I turned around and said, " Those kids? Yes, every minute of every day...unless they were touching the mannequins, in which case I've never seen them before in my life..." As a mom, I constantly question where they are emotionally. I worry I am not maybe giving them the support they need when they freak out and do something completely asinine...I question what I need to do. I guess if I didn't I wouldn't be doing my job...
But, I'm beginning to realize that their antics might not have anything to do with the reality they've been given. It might just be that they are kids. Is it wrong that I find that oddly reassuring? I got a little sass talk the other day from one of the Talls, and it dawned on me, PRAISE JESUS, THEY'RE JUST BEING ANNOYING KIDS and nothing more. I actually started laughing. It was exciting to me that my "precious-gifts", this time being represented as an annoying 11year old, was not having an actual emotional crisis...he was just being a kid. And I'm beginning to realize that there no oracles on parenting. There are no books that can really help, because no one has all of the answers. For once, in a very long time, while knowing who my kids are, being clueless as to what they are going to try to pull next is just the kind of simpleminded cocktail that I will take...on a side note, laughing at a dramatic tween is actually kind of fun.
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
The Day My Mom Bought the Wrong Fridge
...it happened...it was only a matter of time...While the death of an appliance isn't really that big of a deal, to someone who has never bought a refrigerator, it's slightly terrifying. I'm thrifty. I look for sales. But this was something that took time, thought, mental fortitude, and guts to spend money...this wasn't a board game, this was actual life...but I already knew that I guess.
I've seen gypsies. I'm not talking on TV, I'm talking real live gypsies. I actually blame them for not being able to enjoy a once in a lifetime experience. Turns out, on that day, the bottom of the Eiffel Tower is where all the gypsies hung out. My one chance to really see this marvel of a landmark, the often used symbol of romance and elegance...and at the bottom packs of gypsies. I'm sure they were very nice people, but I started to hear them. I was warned that they have a vague communication method of clicking. You sort of slightly hear it. You start to wonder what it is. By the time you actually hear it, they have already emptied your pocket and are using your money to buy themselves the French equivalent of a hot dog. And you? You're standing there broke. But once you have witnessed their prowess, it's not something you ever forget.
Cut to me...walking into the Sears department store...with four kids. I had already given the whole "fiscally responsible" speech to my unnaturally quiet offspring in the car. They appeared to listen, they nodded their heads, so I thought, okay...good enough. We walk into the store and within 7 seconds, it hit me. This was a scene I had seen before...I could recognize the look on the sales associate's face...she was thinking a gypsy with FOUR kids who were unusually excited about kitchen appliances. After retrieving Atticus from inside one of the refrigerators, I had decided that we failed to discuss going into a store and the art of being inconspicuous...lesson learned. I can't be sure, but I'm fairly certain I heard the a sigh of relief as we left the store.
I walk this teetering line a lot. I know kids just see things, and they want it. I know kids, while they completely understand spending their own money (usually on worthless crap), they have little understanding on how 'our' money is/should/needs to be spent. I over heard Abe telling Oscar "...yeah, a water feature is cool, but it's like $500 extra and they usually break...don't even get me started on a stainless steal front..." For a minute, I thought what? So okay, someone was hearing me, and on this rare occasion they were actually listening. It is still scary to make these very expensive decisions on my own. I'm so terrified that I'll make a mistake, because let's face it, it's hard to bounce major financial questions off of a 9 year old. Sometimes I let it seriously consume me, if this is all jacked up, what ever it may be that particular day, it's my fault.
But as I was walking around Best Buy, texting people about what appliance they had, it occurred to me...I'm probably not going to be sent to a Turkish prison for buying the wrong refrigerator. My kids won't need therapy or write their tell all book from prison entitled The Day My Mom Bought the Wrong Fridge. I have to face the facts. First of all, I hate to spend big money, I'm not your average female. Secondly, from time to time it's sucky to be an adult, and suckier still when you don't have another one to fall back on. You make the hard decisions and hope someone was watching you do the right thing...all the while knowing, that in less than 24 hours, you will have a refrigerator again, and hell no does it have stainless steal front!
I've seen gypsies. I'm not talking on TV, I'm talking real live gypsies. I actually blame them for not being able to enjoy a once in a lifetime experience. Turns out, on that day, the bottom of the Eiffel Tower is where all the gypsies hung out. My one chance to really see this marvel of a landmark, the often used symbol of romance and elegance...and at the bottom packs of gypsies. I'm sure they were very nice people, but I started to hear them. I was warned that they have a vague communication method of clicking. You sort of slightly hear it. You start to wonder what it is. By the time you actually hear it, they have already emptied your pocket and are using your money to buy themselves the French equivalent of a hot dog. And you? You're standing there broke. But once you have witnessed their prowess, it's not something you ever forget.
Cut to me...walking into the Sears department store...with four kids. I had already given the whole "fiscally responsible" speech to my unnaturally quiet offspring in the car. They appeared to listen, they nodded their heads, so I thought, okay...good enough. We walk into the store and within 7 seconds, it hit me. This was a scene I had seen before...I could recognize the look on the sales associate's face...she was thinking a gypsy with FOUR kids who were unusually excited about kitchen appliances. After retrieving Atticus from inside one of the refrigerators, I had decided that we failed to discuss going into a store and the art of being inconspicuous...lesson learned. I can't be sure, but I'm fairly certain I heard the a sigh of relief as we left the store.
I walk this teetering line a lot. I know kids just see things, and they want it. I know kids, while they completely understand spending their own money (usually on worthless crap), they have little understanding on how 'our' money is/should/needs to be spent. I over heard Abe telling Oscar "...yeah, a water feature is cool, but it's like $500 extra and they usually break...don't even get me started on a stainless steal front..." For a minute, I thought what? So okay, someone was hearing me, and on this rare occasion they were actually listening. It is still scary to make these very expensive decisions on my own. I'm so terrified that I'll make a mistake, because let's face it, it's hard to bounce major financial questions off of a 9 year old. Sometimes I let it seriously consume me, if this is all jacked up, what ever it may be that particular day, it's my fault.
But as I was walking around Best Buy, texting people about what appliance they had, it occurred to me...I'm probably not going to be sent to a Turkish prison for buying the wrong refrigerator. My kids won't need therapy or write their tell all book from prison entitled The Day My Mom Bought the Wrong Fridge. I have to face the facts. First of all, I hate to spend big money, I'm not your average female. Secondly, from time to time it's sucky to be an adult, and suckier still when you don't have another one to fall back on. You make the hard decisions and hope someone was watching you do the right thing...all the while knowing, that in less than 24 hours, you will have a refrigerator again, and hell no does it have stainless steal front!
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
...our house has changed
For some reason, I stumbled upon this blog that I wrote two years ago...I frantically tried to remember just reading the title what it was about, and then I frantically tried to find it in my book. I looked and looked, and then I remembered. I remembered that there were some blogs that I didn't include...at the time when I was first editing, I couldn't include...it was just too personal. I'm not sure why I found this more personal than other things I had written, but that was where I was at the time.
I regret not including it today after reading it. I feel like it pretty much encapsulates this whole journey we are on, my kids and I. Not a whole lot has changed, other than the notion that what ever happens today, the sun will indeed come out tomorrow. It is still hard to swim through certain memories and laugh at others. So, two years and a couple of days later, I want to share it again. If you've read it before, thank you. If you are reading it for the first time, thank you. Thank you.
June 15th, 2013~ ...our house has changed
Well, hi...I've never done this before, at least written to you...you know me, I talk a lot, and I talk to you- usually in some empty room...at times with my fists/eyes in the air. I'm either asking for a little help, wondering what to do next, or just wishing I could talk to you, just one last time to tie up some lose ends. For me, tomorrow isn't going to be hard because you are not here, it's going to be hard because some memories never go away...
Nine years ago on Father's Day, you weren't exactly a father, yet. I remember the look on your face when you told your friends at a Cardinals game that you were having a 'BOY!!'. They all cheered. I remember the look on YOUR face in the delivery room after every one of our children were born. With each child your face looked different, as you were looking in their eyes, scanning these little people. Clearly, telling each one of them some special message from your heart...and then looking at me as if to say, "WE DID THAT?!". I vividly remember looking at you for many hours, each taking turns quietly sobbing, when we labored a child we never got to bring home. All the while hoping/knowing that it was the hardest thing we were going to have to do, but it would make us stronger...closer.
I remember with every one of our children, there would come a point about 3 weeks in where I would loose my shit (you were the baby person). I couldn't get it right? I couldn't understand what I was doing wrong? Or WAS THIS THING EVER GOING TO SLEEP?!? To which you would smile, take the 'thing' from me, and tell me to go to bed-as we were handing off you'd say, "...I hate to tell you this, but the same thing has happened with all of these kids, thank God I remember...". And I do...I do not know if I could have made it through with out you...you were the baby whisperer...
Sometimes I wonder if you are talking through Nora...of course she talks (and talks), but sometimes she says things, and I think, where the hell did that come from? Sort of secretly hoping it's you. Today, at the dinner table she said, "...have you noticed how our house has changed?" I tried to get her to elaborate, and she looked at me like, what part of that didn't you get? She also has been asking if I could teach her to be a lady...what do I do all day? Teach her to roll cigars? She misses you, even though she mentions it less and less. She has a laundry list of things I'm supposed to tell you if I see you at night...as if it were that easy...but now, it's sort of her nightly routine.
Atticus? You wouldn't believe it! He's EVERYWHERE all at once, can sprint through the house, and damn it, if he hasn't nearly figured out how to open the gate on the stairs. I'm contemplating just having him wear a helmet all day long to save on concussions. Today's discovery, the kid will ACTUALLY EAT A MEAL if you give him a fork. Really? ...like it's just that easy?
The boys are in Indiana, and today it really sank it that I miss them like crazy. I know they are getting well taken care of, but at times I feel guilty to enjoy the quiet that exists here at night. The WWE will resume in their room soon enough. Abe no longer needs a 'seeing eyed person' as he has decided that reading is pretty beneficial. Since the beginning of summer he's read 16 chapter books. Oscar 'keeps forgetting' about the reading challenge I gave them. But, some how as picked up stand up comedy in the last two weeks. He told me the other day that he was heading to my brother's house to visit, and that he'd get to meet my brother's "Lady Friend"...thankfully, he's helped Abe be less worried about summer camp, and I'm anxious to see if Oscar is taller than me when I see him next...weeds I tell you.
This whole thing- life, our kids, and the day to day isn't hard because I'm doing it alone...it's hard because you're not here to see what I see. I can handle the doing alone, I mean, it's not perfect, but we've made no trips to the ER, yet. It's the things that I see, the stories that I hear, the antics that happen...sometimes those things mean more if someone else can share them with you. It's the knowing that while I have my memories with you, there has been nearly a world of change that has happened that you've missed...I know you are seeing it, but the sharing it is what we all need.
I regret not including it today after reading it. I feel like it pretty much encapsulates this whole journey we are on, my kids and I. Not a whole lot has changed, other than the notion that what ever happens today, the sun will indeed come out tomorrow. It is still hard to swim through certain memories and laugh at others. So, two years and a couple of days later, I want to share it again. If you've read it before, thank you. If you are reading it for the first time, thank you. Thank you.
June 15th, 2013~ ...our house has changed
Well, hi...I've never done this before, at least written to you...you know me, I talk a lot, and I talk to you- usually in some empty room...at times with my fists/eyes in the air. I'm either asking for a little help, wondering what to do next, or just wishing I could talk to you, just one last time to tie up some lose ends. For me, tomorrow isn't going to be hard because you are not here, it's going to be hard because some memories never go away...
Nine years ago on Father's Day, you weren't exactly a father, yet. I remember the look on your face when you told your friends at a Cardinals game that you were having a 'BOY!!'. They all cheered. I remember the look on YOUR face in the delivery room after every one of our children were born. With each child your face looked different, as you were looking in their eyes, scanning these little people. Clearly, telling each one of them some special message from your heart...and then looking at me as if to say, "WE DID THAT?!". I vividly remember looking at you for many hours, each taking turns quietly sobbing, when we labored a child we never got to bring home. All the while hoping/knowing that it was the hardest thing we were going to have to do, but it would make us stronger...closer.
I remember with every one of our children, there would come a point about 3 weeks in where I would loose my shit (you were the baby person). I couldn't get it right? I couldn't understand what I was doing wrong? Or WAS THIS THING EVER GOING TO SLEEP?!? To which you would smile, take the 'thing' from me, and tell me to go to bed-as we were handing off you'd say, "...I hate to tell you this, but the same thing has happened with all of these kids, thank God I remember...". And I do...I do not know if I could have made it through with out you...you were the baby whisperer...
Sometimes I wonder if you are talking through Nora...of course she talks (and talks), but sometimes she says things, and I think, where the hell did that come from? Sort of secretly hoping it's you. Today, at the dinner table she said, "...have you noticed how our house has changed?" I tried to get her to elaborate, and she looked at me like, what part of that didn't you get? She also has been asking if I could teach her to be a lady...what do I do all day? Teach her to roll cigars? She misses you, even though she mentions it less and less. She has a laundry list of things I'm supposed to tell you if I see you at night...as if it were that easy...but now, it's sort of her nightly routine.
Atticus? You wouldn't believe it! He's EVERYWHERE all at once, can sprint through the house, and damn it, if he hasn't nearly figured out how to open the gate on the stairs. I'm contemplating just having him wear a helmet all day long to save on concussions. Today's discovery, the kid will ACTUALLY EAT A MEAL if you give him a fork. Really? ...like it's just that easy?
The boys are in Indiana, and today it really sank it that I miss them like crazy. I know they are getting well taken care of, but at times I feel guilty to enjoy the quiet that exists here at night. The WWE will resume in their room soon enough. Abe no longer needs a 'seeing eyed person' as he has decided that reading is pretty beneficial. Since the beginning of summer he's read 16 chapter books. Oscar 'keeps forgetting' about the reading challenge I gave them. But, some how as picked up stand up comedy in the last two weeks. He told me the other day that he was heading to my brother's house to visit, and that he'd get to meet my brother's "Lady Friend"...thankfully, he's helped Abe be less worried about summer camp, and I'm anxious to see if Oscar is taller than me when I see him next...weeds I tell you.
This whole thing- life, our kids, and the day to day isn't hard because I'm doing it alone...it's hard because you're not here to see what I see. I can handle the doing alone, I mean, it's not perfect, but we've made no trips to the ER, yet. It's the things that I see, the stories that I hear, the antics that happen...sometimes those things mean more if someone else can share them with you. It's the knowing that while I have my memories with you, there has been nearly a world of change that has happened that you've missed...I know you are seeing it, but the sharing it is what we all need.
Monday, June 15, 2015
...this week I was paid in moments
...I've been on a dead run for about a week. All of it was exciting. Old friends caught up with and family visited. Fun times were had...except for white knuckle driving through every storm that passed through the Midwest...But never-the-less on the go for a long stretch.
While I was home, I was blessed to be able to see two girlfriends I haven't seen in a long time...together we sat, had a cocktail, and caught up on our lives. We talked and laughed and walked down memory lane, as if no time had passed. Wereconnected started up where we left off, and it was not only good for the heart, but good for the soul. I realized while we were sitting there that these sort of friends are possibly the best ones you can have in life. While we are a little older, a little wiser, and understand more about life than we did when we were 20, we still get each other. I drove off in my car afterward smiling. Smiling because of how much fun I had. Smiling because of how much I missed them. Smiling because I just remembered how fun it was to have them in my life...for a moment I felt 20 years old again.
The ending of this whirlwind week was seeing two really fantastic people get married. It has been a couple of years since I've been to a wedding. You forget all of the things that go along with it...the family, random people wanting to drink free booze, the stresses of wanting to make sure everything is perfect. This wedding gave all of that, but the best part was it was beautiful. Not beautiful in an overdone, flashy sort of way. It was beautiful because it was simple, understated, and was all about the two people deciding to spend the rest of their lives together. It was beautiful because you knew that in these people's heads, if they were the only two people in the room, that would have been enough. It was beautiful because they didn't need anything more than each other...I was just lucky enough to witness it, lucky to be a part of their special moment.
By Sunday afternoon, I finally hit the wall, I was mentally exhausted, feeling like I was on a cold medicine buzz without the medicine. Finally, all I could do was just wait the clock out until bedtime...and the TV remote was actually in my hand. In this house that is no small victory. I turned it to the Hunger Games. I'll be honest, I've seen it, but I need story line support because I'm not sure I've ever gotten the chance to watch it all the way through. Oscar was in the room with me and asked if we could watch it all the way through. Mentally beat down, I tried to tell him that it was going to be pretty late before it was over, and the kid has seen this movie about 187 times as it's one of his favorites. There was about a 14 minute pause in the conversation with us, and then he says, "...the reason I want to watch it is because I want to watch it with you..." I suddenly woke up.
This kid watches a lot of movies, I mean A LOT. He is pretty versed at who the directors are and has read up on their methods. I think movies are his escape from anything that ails him and I can appreciate that and his desire to know more about them than just what you're shown. So, I was busy asking questions here and there because I tend to get lost in movies as I rarely get to see them in their entirety here. The next thing I know, he moves from the chair across the room and sits down next to me on the couch...unheard of. We are watching the movie, telling anyone who wants to reenact THUNDER DOME to leave the room, and I realize that we are having a rare moment. We are interacting in a way that isn't son/mother, it's friends. That hasn't happened in a while. I turn to him and say, "...you know, I'm very sorry that there isn't more of me to go around. I'm sorry that I'm outnumbered and I don't always get to give you the time you deserve..." He said, "...I know, it's okay..." I said, "no it's not, it sucks..." He said, "...yeah, but that's the way life is sometimes..."
For a moment I was sort of dumbfounded that he got that. For a moment I wondered if he knew what he was saying or just regurgitating something I've probably said to him. But in that moment I realized that sometimes you just have to catch these special moments when you can. Whether it be something you experience or something you witness, you can't recreate them. You can't make them happen even if you will them so to do. The beauty of these moments, are the glimmer of security you get from them. The fact that you can go back to them when you are feeling like you're mentally hitting the wall on your day or even your life...this week I was paid in moments...
While I was home, I was blessed to be able to see two girlfriends I haven't seen in a long time...together we sat, had a cocktail, and caught up on our lives. We talked and laughed and walked down memory lane, as if no time had passed. We
The ending of this whirlwind week was seeing two really fantastic people get married. It has been a couple of years since I've been to a wedding. You forget all of the things that go along with it...the family, random people wanting to drink free booze, the stresses of wanting to make sure everything is perfect. This wedding gave all of that, but the best part was it was beautiful. Not beautiful in an overdone, flashy sort of way. It was beautiful because it was simple, understated, and was all about the two people deciding to spend the rest of their lives together. It was beautiful because you knew that in these people's heads, if they were the only two people in the room, that would have been enough. It was beautiful because they didn't need anything more than each other...I was just lucky enough to witness it, lucky to be a part of their special moment.
By Sunday afternoon, I finally hit the wall, I was mentally exhausted, feeling like I was on a cold medicine buzz without the medicine. Finally, all I could do was just wait the clock out until bedtime...and the TV remote was actually in my hand. In this house that is no small victory. I turned it to the Hunger Games. I'll be honest, I've seen it, but I need story line support because I'm not sure I've ever gotten the chance to watch it all the way through. Oscar was in the room with me and asked if we could watch it all the way through. Mentally beat down, I tried to tell him that it was going to be pretty late before it was over, and the kid has seen this movie about 187 times as it's one of his favorites. There was about a 14 minute pause in the conversation with us, and then he says, "...the reason I want to watch it is because I want to watch it with you..." I suddenly woke up.
This kid watches a lot of movies, I mean A LOT. He is pretty versed at who the directors are and has read up on their methods. I think movies are his escape from anything that ails him and I can appreciate that and his desire to know more about them than just what you're shown. So, I was busy asking questions here and there because I tend to get lost in movies as I rarely get to see them in their entirety here. The next thing I know, he moves from the chair across the room and sits down next to me on the couch...unheard of. We are watching the movie, telling anyone who wants to reenact THUNDER DOME to leave the room, and I realize that we are having a rare moment. We are interacting in a way that isn't son/mother, it's friends. That hasn't happened in a while. I turn to him and say, "...you know, I'm very sorry that there isn't more of me to go around. I'm sorry that I'm outnumbered and I don't always get to give you the time you deserve..." He said, "...I know, it's okay..." I said, "no it's not, it sucks..." He said, "...yeah, but that's the way life is sometimes..."
For a moment I was sort of dumbfounded that he got that. For a moment I wondered if he knew what he was saying or just regurgitating something I've probably said to him. But in that moment I realized that sometimes you just have to catch these special moments when you can. Whether it be something you experience or something you witness, you can't recreate them. You can't make them happen even if you will them so to do. The beauty of these moments, are the glimmer of security you get from them. The fact that you can go back to them when you are feeling like you're mentally hitting the wall on your day or even your life...this week I was paid in moments...
Sunday, May 31, 2015
...powerless
Well, I'm not sure where it came from...that's the interesting thing about grief. Even when you feel like you are doing fine, a day rolls around, for no real reason, and knocks you on your ass. About the time when you feel like you have everything in control (or at least as much as you can being out numbered), and the bottom falls out. The figurative doorbell rings, and emotions just come walking right in like you actually invited them. You can blame feminine hormones. You can blame dreary weather. You can blame a cocktail. But, the fact of the matter is when it comes, you can't make it go away until it's run it's course.
It started last week. Oscar mentioned at the breakfast table that he had a dream about Jason. We were all excited to know what happened. Turns out, nothing happened. He said he just saw his dad walking through the house. I could tell by his answer that he was a little underwhelmed. Like he had wished that it would have been more meaningful...longer...some sort of interaction that would have left him with a big grin. The often used phrase to people who are missing a loved one who is no longer here is, "...but they are with you...they are here watching you...they are loving you from a far..."And I'm sorry, but that is bologna shit.
My heart sort of broke that day for Oscar. They were given nothing. No good-bye. No closure. No chance to let their heart catch up with reality. Their last vision of Jason was on a stretcher out the window. Why didn't I let them see him on that stretcher? I would do just about anything for my kids to have just one more interaction with Jason. I would give anything for them to be able to say one more thing, give him a hug, just lay eyes on him...if for only 5 minutes. It is a pain that resonates so deeply inside of me that it actually physically hurts at times. It gnaws and tears at my heart, knowing that I am...powerless.
Atticus is now at that stage where he's verbal with no filter. He says things partly to get a reaction and partly because he doesn't know what he is saying. He likes to repeat the phrases that I might mutter under my breath, and does them with authority. He is very matter-of-fact about where his dad is. Driving down the road the other day he said, "...you know, my dad passed away...but I don't really know why or where he went..." I was sort of taken with how he phrased it. I mean he's only 3, and half the time he's talking about super heroes. He has started asking questions...the likes of which I remember Nora asking when she was his age. With each question asked, I know that it's one more I don't have real answers to. One more question that I have to try do deflect because I know his brain can't comprehend the real answer.
And then, last night as I was channel surfing, a PBS show came on, sort of Lawrence-Welk-like. The dancing started. The laughter got louder. The signature moves came out. It was hilarious, heart warming, rowdy and it made me emotional. It came in like a rhinoceros and I had to excuse myself to the bathroom. I cried, hard. I could hear the giggles and the squeals, but I couldn't stop myself. I had to let it out. The scene was like that of any Saturday night five years ago, but I was the only one noticing something was missing...and once again, I was powerless.
So, today is a new day. Today is the chance to start over. Today is the day to let yesterday's grief know that while we loved having them visit, we were running out of clean towels. Today is the day when you look at yesterday and hope you've learned something. Today will be filled with tantrums, freak-outs, spilled juice, dirty clothes and dishes. However tonight, we'll get the pleasure of watching Nora at t-ball practice...and that is just pure entertainment.
It started last week. Oscar mentioned at the breakfast table that he had a dream about Jason. We were all excited to know what happened. Turns out, nothing happened. He said he just saw his dad walking through the house. I could tell by his answer that he was a little underwhelmed. Like he had wished that it would have been more meaningful...longer...some sort of interaction that would have left him with a big grin. The often used phrase to people who are missing a loved one who is no longer here is, "...but they are with you...they are here watching you...they are loving you from a far..."And I'm sorry, but that is bologna shit.
My heart sort of broke that day for Oscar. They were given nothing. No good-bye. No closure. No chance to let their heart catch up with reality. Their last vision of Jason was on a stretcher out the window. Why didn't I let them see him on that stretcher? I would do just about anything for my kids to have just one more interaction with Jason. I would give anything for them to be able to say one more thing, give him a hug, just lay eyes on him...if for only 5 minutes. It is a pain that resonates so deeply inside of me that it actually physically hurts at times. It gnaws and tears at my heart, knowing that I am...powerless.
Atticus is now at that stage where he's verbal with no filter. He says things partly to get a reaction and partly because he doesn't know what he is saying. He likes to repeat the phrases that I might mutter under my breath, and does them with authority. He is very matter-of-fact about where his dad is. Driving down the road the other day he said, "...you know, my dad passed away...but I don't really know why or where he went..." I was sort of taken with how he phrased it. I mean he's only 3, and half the time he's talking about super heroes. He has started asking questions...the likes of which I remember Nora asking when she was his age. With each question asked, I know that it's one more I don't have real answers to. One more question that I have to try do deflect because I know his brain can't comprehend the real answer.
And then, last night as I was channel surfing, a PBS show came on, sort of Lawrence-Welk-like. The dancing started. The laughter got louder. The signature moves came out. It was hilarious, heart warming, rowdy and it made me emotional. It came in like a rhinoceros and I had to excuse myself to the bathroom. I cried, hard. I could hear the giggles and the squeals, but I couldn't stop myself. I had to let it out. The scene was like that of any Saturday night five years ago, but I was the only one noticing something was missing...and once again, I was powerless.
So, today is a new day. Today is the chance to start over. Today is the day to let yesterday's grief know that while we loved having them visit, we were running out of clean towels. Today is the day when you look at yesterday and hope you've learned something. Today will be filled with tantrums, freak-outs, spilled juice, dirty clothes and dishes. However tonight, we'll get the pleasure of watching Nora at t-ball practice...and that is just pure entertainment.
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
...grunt-like-look...
Well, it's here...can you hear that? It's almost the end of the school year and I actually think I'm ready for it. This week has been a full cocktail of feelings...anxiety mixed and over ice with fear as well as excitement in a LARGE glass of gratification. It's a scary thing to put yourself out there, not knowing if you will sink or swim. It's hard to decide if you are brave enough to jump into the deep end and leave your worries behind, if for only one moment. It's a slippery slope to want something to be a success while at the same time knowing the fact you've accomplished anything, is well, enough. And then there is potty training a 3 year old...
I should know what the hell I'm doing by now...right? I mean I do have three other children who are entirely capable and are no longer wearing plastic pants...but I'm stumped. This charming, very verbal, completely coordinated 3 year old just will not get it. I've pulled out all of the old tricks: candy, sticker charts, superhero undies, promising animals we can't actually house, promising toys we can't afford. Everything short of a bourbon and ginger ale, and let's face it that's my reward, I have promised this kid and he won't use the toilet. Oh, don't get me wrong, he's good at making it 'appear' like he is getting the hang of things, taking initiative and understanding what he should do. It's the doing it that is a problem...cut to us playing Uno on Saturday, and me looking up, only to see him standing in the window, that unmistakable 'grunt-like-look' on his face...and then looking at me and saying, "...ah mommy, I pooped..." At this point I'm thinking I'm going to have to home-school him.
The struggles of a child who can't decide if she likes sports or just enjoys entertaining an audience is something else I will be looking forward to this summer. I don't care if any of my kids are sport minded. I certainly don't care if not a one of them becomes a sports phenomenon. All I want them to do is feel comfortable trying new things and if they like it great, if they don't well at least they tried. We can't be certain if Nora is a lefty or a righty. We can't be certain if she knows that the team will not have her name in the title. We can't be certain if she knows she has to run to home plate. We can't be certain if she understands that the people in the crowd aren't all there just for her... But in the next 6 weeks we'll learn and that's what this summer is all about.
The older my kids get, the older I get. Wow, that's profound enough to embroider on a pillow...what I'm saying is with every summer, my old lady nostalgia kicks in...Part of me remembers being 11 years old, riding my bike all over town and not really worrying about checking in until it was dinner time. Then, the old lady kicks in. The controlling parent. Suddenly on the inside, I'm "Beverly Goldberg" the mother who would give her life for her 'schmoopies', despite the fact that she might be smothering them. I know I need to trust the street smarts I have already instilled, but it's scary. It is scary to think what might happen, even though chances are they won't. That's the intricate inner workings of a mother's brain. I know I was given freedom to ride my bike, and I'm none-the-less normal. This summer, it's going to be a lesson in letting go a little and letting them be...The beauty of living in a small town? I'll know what they might have done wrong about 1.1 seconds after they do it. And besides, I've already survived the "puberty video", I figure I'm on the up swing.
It seems with every passing season, it becomes a time to start and try to change things up a little...the beginning of a new adventure. I have to keep reminding myself of how far we've come and only one visit to the ER. We set goals, hope to keep them, and if we don't kill each other by the end of the day, then we're winning. I remember how terrifying life once was for me...constantly thinking to myself, I'm never going to pull this off. I'm never going to be able to do this alone. Don't get me wrong, I don't have the secret to life figured out and my mother-guilt could be fodder for a medical book. But this week I did a lot of reflecting on all that has happened in the last couple of years. All those nights I frantically pondered when...when was any of this going to make sense? When was life going to get easy?
The answer is, never. Life isn't supposed to be easy...but if you are lucky, you can adapt and press on. It has taken me longer than I would like to admit to see it that way. If you are lucky you can see the good in any day, even if it is the moment your kids go to bed without a head wound. If you are lucky, you'll understand that you were put here for a reason or possibly many reasons. Lastly, you let go and let everyday be an example of how tomorrow could be better...If that doesn't work, and you're anything like the 3 year old living in my house, you stand in the window and poop...
I should know what the hell I'm doing by now...right? I mean I do have three other children who are entirely capable and are no longer wearing plastic pants...but I'm stumped. This charming, very verbal, completely coordinated 3 year old just will not get it. I've pulled out all of the old tricks: candy, sticker charts, superhero undies, promising animals we can't actually house, promising toys we can't afford. Everything short of a bourbon and ginger ale, and let's face it that's my reward, I have promised this kid and he won't use the toilet. Oh, don't get me wrong, he's good at making it 'appear' like he is getting the hang of things, taking initiative and understanding what he should do. It's the doing it that is a problem...cut to us playing Uno on Saturday, and me looking up, only to see him standing in the window, that unmistakable 'grunt-like-look' on his face...and then looking at me and saying, "...ah mommy, I pooped..." At this point I'm thinking I'm going to have to home-school him.
The struggles of a child who can't decide if she likes sports or just enjoys entertaining an audience is something else I will be looking forward to this summer. I don't care if any of my kids are sport minded. I certainly don't care if not a one of them becomes a sports phenomenon. All I want them to do is feel comfortable trying new things and if they like it great, if they don't well at least they tried. We can't be certain if Nora is a lefty or a righty. We can't be certain if she knows that the team will not have her name in the title. We can't be certain if she knows she has to run to home plate. We can't be certain if she understands that the people in the crowd aren't all there just for her... But in the next 6 weeks we'll learn and that's what this summer is all about.
The older my kids get, the older I get. Wow, that's profound enough to embroider on a pillow...what I'm saying is with every summer, my old lady nostalgia kicks in...Part of me remembers being 11 years old, riding my bike all over town and not really worrying about checking in until it was dinner time. Then, the old lady kicks in. The controlling parent. Suddenly on the inside, I'm "Beverly Goldberg" the mother who would give her life for her 'schmoopies', despite the fact that she might be smothering them. I know I need to trust the street smarts I have already instilled, but it's scary. It is scary to think what might happen, even though chances are they won't. That's the intricate inner workings of a mother's brain. I know I was given freedom to ride my bike, and I'm none-the-less normal. This summer, it's going to be a lesson in letting go a little and letting them be...The beauty of living in a small town? I'll know what they might have done wrong about 1.1 seconds after they do it. And besides, I've already survived the "puberty video", I figure I'm on the up swing.
It seems with every passing season, it becomes a time to start and try to change things up a little...the beginning of a new adventure. I have to keep reminding myself of how far we've come and only one visit to the ER. We set goals, hope to keep them, and if we don't kill each other by the end of the day, then we're winning. I remember how terrifying life once was for me...constantly thinking to myself, I'm never going to pull this off. I'm never going to be able to do this alone. Don't get me wrong, I don't have the secret to life figured out and my mother-guilt could be fodder for a medical book. But this week I did a lot of reflecting on all that has happened in the last couple of years. All those nights I frantically pondered when...when was any of this going to make sense? When was life going to get easy?
The answer is, never. Life isn't supposed to be easy...but if you are lucky, you can adapt and press on. It has taken me longer than I would like to admit to see it that way. If you are lucky you can see the good in any day, even if it is the moment your kids go to bed without a head wound. If you are lucky, you'll understand that you were put here for a reason or possibly many reasons. Lastly, you let go and let everyday be an example of how tomorrow could be better...If that doesn't work, and you're anything like the 3 year old living in my house, you stand in the window and poop...
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Happy Mother's Day...
...I remember walking into a room just off of ours. It was empty, with exception of piles in this corner and that. A fresh coat of the most soothing green color on the walls. The only piece of furniture, a bright yellow chair sitting in the corner. I would wander into that room, sit in that big yellow chair and think. I would think about what still had to be done. I would think about what would go where. I would sit in that big yellow chair and think about the baby that would soon be living in this room. I would wonder what it would be like to be a mother...
I still remember how quiet it was sitting in that room...quiet is a foreign word around here. Of all the places in our old house, I think I miss that first baby room the most. I guess it was where I spent a lot of time, did most of my thinking, and a great deal of praying that I was actually doing things right...first time mother guilt. I could close my eyes right now and tell you how the sun fell into that room in the morning, or how in the spring the tree out front bloomed. All the times the Talls would be so tiny looking out their window in the winter waiting for the snow plows to go by. It seems like it was yesterday that I became a mother for the first time...
Mother's Day is upon us...I know because Atticus has been randomly saying to me, "...Happy-Birthday-Mother's-Day-Mom..." to me for the last week. Good to know he's caught on to bundling well wishes. My Mother's Day present (unknowingly) was given to me by my kids tonight. They gave me a trip down memory lane by watching...Lawrence Welk. It sounds odd, but when the Talls where little, we would watch it every Saturday night. Partly because it was funny to watch them, partly because it wore them out dancing and prancing all over the living room. They would dance and twirl, every once and a while Jason and I would get up to dance with them. We haven't watched it in years, actually I think tonight was Atticus' first time. They all performed some signature moves and one of the Talls finally accepted Nora's plea to be her dance partner. They were up for every song, twirling and dipping. Atticus was Oscar's slow dance partner, and I heard him ask while dancing, "...nice weather we're having?" That scant 45 minutes was probably one of the best Mother's Day gifts I have ever gotten.
I was told the other night how fast time flies when you have kids. I've been told this many times, but when you are in the trenches of motherhood, it's hard to see the end of the road. As I was sitting there, I was mentally doing the math. Barring Atticus not be given an orange jump suit with the letters "DOC", I will be 57 years old by the time all of my children are out of my house. That's nearly 60!? That is, if I don't make this home so damned wonderful they even decide to leave...The notion made me shutter and simultaneously contemplate an intense chore chart.
Little did I know what I was discussing in one part of the house, was invading Nora's dreams in another...but not the good kind. Being a mom is rough, all moms know that. Being a mom of children who have lost a parent is a different kind of rough. The fears that they have aren't like all the rest of the kids they know. Nora isn't the first one to express it, but her fear lies in what happens when I die. What will happen to her if I should die? Will she have to live all by herself? She doesn't want to be alone. As she is telling me this the next day, as it took her 12 hours to get the courage to talk about it, tears are streaming down her face. She actually looks like she is in pain even describing what she dreamt, how she felt, where her fear was. My heart broke. I tried to reassure her that she wouldn't be alone. I tried to tell her that if something happened to me, there would be someone here. I was careful with my words as I know all too well the phrase "take the place" is a line of crap...
This conversation was eye opening to say the least. I ditched the mental chore chart and started to think about what I get to do in the next 17 years. What I get to see raising these kids...knowing their potential...watching them grow into these cool people I see them becoming. I get to see them happy, get to console them when they are not, and get to hear them, as they have no internal volume. Silver Lining? I get to be their Mom, probably the best job I've ever had...
I still remember how quiet it was sitting in that room...quiet is a foreign word around here. Of all the places in our old house, I think I miss that first baby room the most. I guess it was where I spent a lot of time, did most of my thinking, and a great deal of praying that I was actually doing things right...first time mother guilt. I could close my eyes right now and tell you how the sun fell into that room in the morning, or how in the spring the tree out front bloomed. All the times the Talls would be so tiny looking out their window in the winter waiting for the snow plows to go by. It seems like it was yesterday that I became a mother for the first time...
Mother's Day is upon us...I know because Atticus has been randomly saying to me, "...Happy-Birthday-Mother's-Day-Mom..." to me for the last week. Good to know he's caught on to bundling well wishes. My Mother's Day present (unknowingly) was given to me by my kids tonight. They gave me a trip down memory lane by watching...Lawrence Welk. It sounds odd, but when the Talls where little, we would watch it every Saturday night. Partly because it was funny to watch them, partly because it wore them out dancing and prancing all over the living room. They would dance and twirl, every once and a while Jason and I would get up to dance with them. We haven't watched it in years, actually I think tonight was Atticus' first time. They all performed some signature moves and one of the Talls finally accepted Nora's plea to be her dance partner. They were up for every song, twirling and dipping. Atticus was Oscar's slow dance partner, and I heard him ask while dancing, "...nice weather we're having?" That scant 45 minutes was probably one of the best Mother's Day gifts I have ever gotten.
I was told the other night how fast time flies when you have kids. I've been told this many times, but when you are in the trenches of motherhood, it's hard to see the end of the road. As I was sitting there, I was mentally doing the math. Barring Atticus not be given an orange jump suit with the letters "DOC", I will be 57 years old by the time all of my children are out of my house. That's nearly 60!? That is, if I don't make this home so damned wonderful they even decide to leave...The notion made me shutter and simultaneously contemplate an intense chore chart.
Little did I know what I was discussing in one part of the house, was invading Nora's dreams in another...but not the good kind. Being a mom is rough, all moms know that. Being a mom of children who have lost a parent is a different kind of rough. The fears that they have aren't like all the rest of the kids they know. Nora isn't the first one to express it, but her fear lies in what happens when I die. What will happen to her if I should die? Will she have to live all by herself? She doesn't want to be alone. As she is telling me this the next day, as it took her 12 hours to get the courage to talk about it, tears are streaming down her face. She actually looks like she is in pain even describing what she dreamt, how she felt, where her fear was. My heart broke. I tried to reassure her that she wouldn't be alone. I tried to tell her that if something happened to me, there would be someone here. I was careful with my words as I know all too well the phrase "take the place" is a line of crap...
This conversation was eye opening to say the least. I ditched the mental chore chart and started to think about what I get to do in the next 17 years. What I get to see raising these kids...knowing their potential...watching them grow into these cool people I see them becoming. I get to see them happy, get to console them when they are not, and get to hear them, as they have no internal volume. Silver Lining? I get to be their Mom, probably the best job I've ever had...
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
...indigestion-without-a-bathroom-in-sight
"...so, there's this 'puberty video' and I need you to sign a consent form so I can watch it...", said Oscar. I knew the time was coming. I knew I would have to choose my words correctly when I answered this statement. I knew that like everyday that passes, we were now going to be entering the rare and wonderful world of puberty...gulp.
Rewind to a couple of weeks ago. We were at Oscar's spring music program. I was noticing things... Admittedly, boys are easy to go unnoticed when it comes to puberty, and being that I have mostly boys, I hadn't noticed. But then, when the girls started stepping onto the risers to sing, it hit me like a ton of bricks. We were needing to be nearing a time for 'the video'. In between Atticus puking all over my lap, I pondered the differences that I saw. The girls were developed, and there was a VAST difference between the 5th grade and the 6th grade boys, a few of which looked like they had already started shaving...it was starting.
So, when I was handed the permission slip, I started to skim through it...I noticed that there were dates and times, and read the words practices...WHAT THE HELL WAS I READING? Thankfully, he unknowingly handed me an archery notice from his P.E. teacher first. I nearly fell over laughing. He immediately started discussing what he'd be watching, "Boys...how our bodies are changing...". I quickly tried to quell it, at least at the dinner table. In my best mother-code (with eyebrows and head tilts towards Nora) I told him that we all weren't watching the video. There WAS a reason why his grade was watching it, perhaps he should keep some information to himself. Oscar was, and as always, un-phased by what I had said. So, again, I gently mentioned that if he decided he needed to share his new found information, say with Abe, we would quickly be looking at the business end of a hissy fit. Another discussion will be forth coming...
The whole thing got me to thinking. I know I'm not delusional to believe that these boys are going to think I know anything about growing up. I know that even though I WENT THROUGH PUBERTY, I will still be a mom who grew up in the dark ages...you know the 1980s. I got to thinking about how hopefully with Nora, maybe things would be different? Maybe she would take my advice on the smallest of life lessons to ease her way into the same stage. It got me making a mental list, a guideline really of things as a girl...the one I possibly wish I had growing up.
#1...while the boy might be nice, yes you should judge him on his friends; if he hangs around morons, chances are he is one too.
#2...if you ever walk into a room, get into a car, or are generally alone with a boy, and Keith Sweat is playing- get out of there! NOW! That boy has plans, and it's not homework.
#3...if you go on a blind date, get into the boy's car, and he has platform shoes higher that any heel you own, fake sick and go home.
#4...if the boy listens to music that is disrespectful to women, chances are he is too.
#5...if a boy you are with gets cold and asks for YOUR coat, he's not a gentleman, he's a wimp and not worth your time.
#6...if the boy might not spend a lot of money, but takes the time to do something special for YOU from his heart, he is someone worth spending time with.
#7...watching a movie is code for "making out"...know what you are getting yourself into.
#8...anyone who tells you you're beautiful isn't a bad thing, as long as he is genuine...if you have to tell him he is, he is not confident enough to be around you.
#9...never let anyone tell you that being smart isn't beautiful.
#10...you are perfect the way you are, anyone who can't deal with that isn't worth dealing with.
#11...lying to your mom is wrong and she will know when you have done something wrong, at times before you even do it.
#12...loving someone means you don't have to spend every waking minute with them even though you might want to.
#13...what you have to say matters.
#14...one bad decision can effect the rest of your life.
#15...if you can't handle/aren't comfortable with it, it's not a scarlet letter, it's your conscious telling you to think.
#16...girl friends are few and far between, but you don't want those that stifle you.
#17...remember what is going on around you when you are with someone you like...one song years later can bring back memories as if you are still in the moment.
#18...treat yourself, but letting the other person treat you is okay too.
#19...being yourself will ALWAYS be better than trying to be someone else.
#20...personal hygiene is important, if he doesn't smell good now, chances are he never will.
I know that some of these aren't large revelations. Hopefully I might be able to pass along to more than Nora...but my expectations of any of my children wanting to know my opinion on such matters are low. Just tonight Oscar said he doubted the married Duggar kids ever "frenched" their spouses...I quickly changed the subject. I'm not going to sugar coat it, this whole topic gives me a feeling of indigestion-without-a-bathroom-in-sight. I'm not going to pretend I've read any books on the matter. I'm not going to pretend that I will know the right things to say when the time arises. Blind faith? Maybe. From the hip is how I plan to roll. Luckily for my ill fated kids, I have a new one...
Rewind to a couple of weeks ago. We were at Oscar's spring music program. I was noticing things... Admittedly, boys are easy to go unnoticed when it comes to puberty, and being that I have mostly boys, I hadn't noticed. But then, when the girls started stepping onto the risers to sing, it hit me like a ton of bricks. We were needing to be nearing a time for 'the video'. In between Atticus puking all over my lap, I pondered the differences that I saw. The girls were developed, and there was a VAST difference between the 5th grade and the 6th grade boys, a few of which looked like they had already started shaving...it was starting.
So, when I was handed the permission slip, I started to skim through it...I noticed that there were dates and times, and read the words practices...WHAT THE HELL WAS I READING? Thankfully, he unknowingly handed me an archery notice from his P.E. teacher first. I nearly fell over laughing. He immediately started discussing what he'd be watching, "Boys...how our bodies are changing...". I quickly tried to quell it, at least at the dinner table. In my best mother-code (with eyebrows and head tilts towards Nora) I told him that we all weren't watching the video. There WAS a reason why his grade was watching it, perhaps he should keep some information to himself. Oscar was, and as always, un-phased by what I had said. So, again, I gently mentioned that if he decided he needed to share his new found information, say with Abe, we would quickly be looking at the business end of a hissy fit. Another discussion will be forth coming...
The whole thing got me to thinking. I know I'm not delusional to believe that these boys are going to think I know anything about growing up. I know that even though I WENT THROUGH PUBERTY, I will still be a mom who grew up in the dark ages...you know the 1980s. I got to thinking about how hopefully with Nora, maybe things would be different? Maybe she would take my advice on the smallest of life lessons to ease her way into the same stage. It got me making a mental list, a guideline really of things as a girl...the one I possibly wish I had growing up.
#1...while the boy might be nice, yes you should judge him on his friends; if he hangs around morons, chances are he is one too.
#2...if you ever walk into a room, get into a car, or are generally alone with a boy, and Keith Sweat is playing- get out of there! NOW! That boy has plans, and it's not homework.
#3...if you go on a blind date, get into the boy's car, and he has platform shoes higher that any heel you own, fake sick and go home.
#4...if the boy listens to music that is disrespectful to women, chances are he is too.
#5...if a boy you are with gets cold and asks for YOUR coat, he's not a gentleman, he's a wimp and not worth your time.
#6...if the boy might not spend a lot of money, but takes the time to do something special for YOU from his heart, he is someone worth spending time with.
#7...watching a movie is code for "making out"...know what you are getting yourself into.
#8...anyone who tells you you're beautiful isn't a bad thing, as long as he is genuine...if you have to tell him he is, he is not confident enough to be around you.
#9...never let anyone tell you that being smart isn't beautiful.
#10...you are perfect the way you are, anyone who can't deal with that isn't worth dealing with.
#11...lying to your mom is wrong and she will know when you have done something wrong, at times before you even do it.
#12...loving someone means you don't have to spend every waking minute with them even though you might want to.
#13...what you have to say matters.
#14...one bad decision can effect the rest of your life.
#15...if you can't handle/aren't comfortable with it, it's not a scarlet letter, it's your conscious telling you to think.
#16...girl friends are few and far between, but you don't want those that stifle you.
#17...remember what is going on around you when you are with someone you like...one song years later can bring back memories as if you are still in the moment.
#18...treat yourself, but letting the other person treat you is okay too.
#19...being yourself will ALWAYS be better than trying to be someone else.
#20...personal hygiene is important, if he doesn't smell good now, chances are he never will.
I know that some of these aren't large revelations. Hopefully I might be able to pass along to more than Nora...but my expectations of any of my children wanting to know my opinion on such matters are low. Just tonight Oscar said he doubted the married Duggar kids ever "frenched" their spouses...I quickly changed the subject. I'm not going to sugar coat it, this whole topic gives me a feeling of indigestion-without-a-bathroom-in-sight. I'm not going to pretend I've read any books on the matter. I'm not going to pretend that I will know the right things to say when the time arises. Blind faith? Maybe. From the hip is how I plan to roll. Luckily for my ill fated kids, I have a new one...
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
...fist bump?...really?
I've said it before...and I'm saying it again. I love this little town I live in. It's small enough that you willingly wave to strangers. When you are sitting in your driveway, it's common for someone to pull up, park their car and stay a while. To some, living in a small town means everyone knows your business. To me, it just means a few more people looking out for us, even some I've never met...there's a silver lining there.
Last summer, I was sitting on the edge of the town pool...hoping to soak up some sunshine, watching my kids swim, and more importantly wear them out. There was a young mom sitting next to me. I knew we had met before, but of course my long term memory problem erased her name from my brain. We exchanged pleasantries. Then, she leaned over to me, and said, "...I don't know if you know this, but I'm a widow too..." She began to tell her story, and I sat there in awe. She was just 24 years old, with a nine month old and pregnant with another child when her husband unexpectedly passed away...
As she was telling her story, and answering my questions, I knew we had met for a bigger reason. I was in such shock of what she had been through, and how she really understood where I was more than most people...I did the most embarrassing thing...I fist bumped her. I ACTUALLY FIST BUMPED ANOTHER WIDOW?! What the hell was wrong with me? In that moment, I hope she understood that I had meant it with the utmost respect, and really with loyalty. At times, it's hard to put into words what being a widow is like...all grief is different, however some of the struggles people have in dealing is the same. Dealing with your grief and your children's grief is also a very individualized process. The fact is, we had something in common, that no one really WANTS to have in common with anyone...
Again, it's not an accident that we met. Today is the nine year anniversary of her husband's passing. Even though she's younger than I am, she will never know how much I look up to her. She is patient, understanding, kind, funny, a loving mother, a wonderful friend, and a very real human being. She has had to be a parent to her children, and continually remind her boys about their parent they've never met. She understands the ebb and flow of life, parenthood and grief that most parent's never have to...I've thought about you a lot today Sarah. And while I never got the chance to met him, Bleu would be so proud of the parent/woman/mother/friend you are today...love to you today and always.
Last summer, I was sitting on the edge of the town pool...hoping to soak up some sunshine, watching my kids swim, and more importantly wear them out. There was a young mom sitting next to me. I knew we had met before, but of course my long term memory problem erased her name from my brain. We exchanged pleasantries. Then, she leaned over to me, and said, "...I don't know if you know this, but I'm a widow too..." She began to tell her story, and I sat there in awe. She was just 24 years old, with a nine month old and pregnant with another child when her husband unexpectedly passed away...
As she was telling her story, and answering my questions, I knew we had met for a bigger reason. I was in such shock of what she had been through, and how she really understood where I was more than most people...I did the most embarrassing thing...I fist bumped her. I ACTUALLY FIST BUMPED ANOTHER WIDOW?! What the hell was wrong with me? In that moment, I hope she understood that I had meant it with the utmost respect, and really with loyalty. At times, it's hard to put into words what being a widow is like...all grief is different, however some of the struggles people have in dealing is the same. Dealing with your grief and your children's grief is also a very individualized process. The fact is, we had something in common, that no one really WANTS to have in common with anyone...
Again, it's not an accident that we met. Today is the nine year anniversary of her husband's passing. Even though she's younger than I am, she will never know how much I look up to her. She is patient, understanding, kind, funny, a loving mother, a wonderful friend, and a very real human being. She has had to be a parent to her children, and continually remind her boys about their parent they've never met. She understands the ebb and flow of life, parenthood and grief that most parent's never have to...I've thought about you a lot today Sarah. And while I never got the chance to met him, Bleu would be so proud of the parent/woman/mother/friend you are today...love to you today and always.
Sunday, March 29, 2015
...magic
Nora has been obsessed with seeing the Easter Bunny. I'm not exactly sure why? It's not like Santa. He doesn't have you tell him what you'd like in your basket. Nevertheless, Nora was on a mission. I'm not sure if she thought we would be sitting down breaking bread with the Bunny, where over a plate of pancakes he would spin yarns of all the Easters of his past. We woke up early. Had a light breakfast snack. Prayed the puke that Atticus shared on me the evening before was just a fluke. We lined up...to see the Easter Bunny...and get free pancakes.
I can still remember the first spring in this house. Everything was new. Everything that bloomed we'd never seen before. It was beautiful and scary all at the same time. Our first Easter here, we packed up the family roadster and headed to my family in Indiana. Partially because we wanted to spend Easter with them, partially because I didn't want to spend Easter here...it was something I didn't want to have to figure out, alone. Along this journey, I haven't always taken the least obstructed route, but I've had to take the one that would work for me. In that process I have, at times, ran from things that were just too hard to handle at that moment. In the beginning it was my coping mechanism, all the while knowing that some day, the expiration date would come up and I'd have to actually start dealing...but that was someday.
As she stood there in line to get seated for breakfast, Nora stared at the unfortunate employee dressed in an Easter Bunny costume. Thankfully, the costume wasn't freakish, and it didn't seem to deter her from wanting to go up and chat. After a minute in line, she asked if she could go talk to him. I said sure, and asked if Atticus maybe wanted to go with her. Atticus' response was "...I'm staying in line." Nora went up, shook hands with the Bunny, and told him all about her stuffed rabbit named 'Bob'. In that moment it sort of hit me...I knew why she had a slight obsession. I knew why she had envisioned pancakes with this rodent...because she's a kid. And believing in something, even if you know it's a little far fetched, is what it's all about. She knew who she was talking to was someone dressed up, but believing in some magic is what is important.
Driving down the road the other day, it hit me...actually, it was something someone said to me. Walking into a store I saw someone I knew and she said, "...boy, you're brave! Taking all those kids with you?" I smiled (kind of thought "duh") and said, "...yep, every minute of my life..." It occurred to me later, the expiration date that I had been dreading so fiercely, it had come and gone and we were all still standing. I catch myself being comfortable with how my life has become...not terrified about how it's all going to work.
Cone of honesty? That's a lie. Kids terrify the crap out of me with puberty around the corner I might need real meds, but I digress...I know now that running away isn't necessary, accepting change is still difficult, but it's inevitable. I feel like even though were aren't your typical family, the way we work is what works for us. There is yelling, there is "Bear Poking", there are arguments, and there are a few of my kids that I think get tired of hearing their own name. But, then there are the times when we sit, all together, watching mindless TV, laugh our heads off and joke and it just feels like we've graduated. We are no longer a hapless crew, trying to understand the reasons for change, we accept it and know it has made us who we are...it's our little bit of magic.
I can still remember the first spring in this house. Everything was new. Everything that bloomed we'd never seen before. It was beautiful and scary all at the same time. Our first Easter here, we packed up the family roadster and headed to my family in Indiana. Partially because we wanted to spend Easter with them, partially because I didn't want to spend Easter here...it was something I didn't want to have to figure out, alone. Along this journey, I haven't always taken the least obstructed route, but I've had to take the one that would work for me. In that process I have, at times, ran from things that were just too hard to handle at that moment. In the beginning it was my coping mechanism, all the while knowing that some day, the expiration date would come up and I'd have to actually start dealing...but that was someday.
As she stood there in line to get seated for breakfast, Nora stared at the unfortunate employee dressed in an Easter Bunny costume. Thankfully, the costume wasn't freakish, and it didn't seem to deter her from wanting to go up and chat. After a minute in line, she asked if she could go talk to him. I said sure, and asked if Atticus maybe wanted to go with her. Atticus' response was "...I'm staying in line." Nora went up, shook hands with the Bunny, and told him all about her stuffed rabbit named 'Bob'. In that moment it sort of hit me...I knew why she had a slight obsession. I knew why she had envisioned pancakes with this rodent...because she's a kid. And believing in something, even if you know it's a little far fetched, is what it's all about. She knew who she was talking to was someone dressed up, but believing in some magic is what is important.
Driving down the road the other day, it hit me...actually, it was something someone said to me. Walking into a store I saw someone I knew and she said, "...boy, you're brave! Taking all those kids with you?" I smiled (kind of thought "duh") and said, "...yep, every minute of my life..." It occurred to me later, the expiration date that I had been dreading so fiercely, it had come and gone and we were all still standing. I catch myself being comfortable with how my life has become...not terrified about how it's all going to work.
Cone of honesty? That's a lie. Kids terrify the crap out of me with puberty around the corner I might need real meds, but I digress...I know now that running away isn't necessary, accepting change is still difficult, but it's inevitable. I feel like even though were aren't your typical family, the way we work is what works for us. There is yelling, there is "Bear Poking", there are arguments, and there are a few of my kids that I think get tired of hearing their own name. But, then there are the times when we sit, all together, watching mindless TV, laugh our heads off and joke and it just feels like we've graduated. We are no longer a hapless crew, trying to understand the reasons for change, we accept it and know it has made us who we are...it's our little bit of magic.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
...how's your view?
"If I knew then what I know now..." is a concept that readily swims around in my head from time to time...like at times long enough for it to get 'pruned' fingers. Most of the time you hear this spoken it lends itself to regret and pain. It's some cautionary thought about how life/situations/time could have been better. I learned a phrase during my formative years, "...it's not better or worse, it's just different" and I think subconsciously it has taken over. And unknowingly and thankfully it has saved me at times.
Each of my children's reason for existence is very different...that sounds cryptic. What I mean is that the reasons I feel I'm lucky enough to be their parent is different. Sure I believe they were all put on this earth to accomplish something unique and exciting, but it's more. I identify who they are and what they will be maybe the most in my heart.
Oscar miracle baby. We were told we'd probably not be able to get pregnant, due to anti rejection medication that Jason was on. When we found out we did, it wasn't a feeling of "HA! TAKE THAT WESTERN MEDICINE!" It was more like the feeling of being blessed. Blessed to be parents. Blessed to have an answered prayer. Blessed to have the chance to watch something that was just ours grow. He's possibly a bit spoiled, being the oldest. He's at times a bit too literal with his thoughts. He's like granite; beautifully, endlessly layered and at times hard to crack. He was brought to this earth to engage in a unique way, with his interesting insights on life and endless creativity.
Abe was the affirmation, clearly we might no longer have a problem getting pregnant. Having babies 18 months apart gets you some very interesting looks, as if perhaps we needed another hobby. Why does anyone feel it necessary to actually say, "...you know what causes that, don't you?" Gross. At any rate, he was this whirlwind of a baby, a tad clingy, a tad ornery, but completely adorable. Always ready to entertain. Always ready to play. Always quick to pick up exactly what you NEVER wanted anyone to repeat. He's bright, entertaining, and caring. He holds this unbelievable ability to connect with the smallest of children, engage them, and wants to teach them. He was brought to this earth to be a father, first and foremost.
Nora. In a house where everyone stood to pee BUT me, Nora was the daughter I desperately needed. She was this tiny little thing in the beginning, and watching the men in my life turn to putty around her...was something I'll never forget. She's quick with a joke. Her volume is sometimes nonexistent. She's an old sole, the likes of which I cannot even put an age to. She has helped me when I really felt like giving up. She has understood, even when I couldn't answer her question. She was brought to this earth to help me remember the value of another female-drama and all. Not sure if she'll ever be a mother, but I am convinced that she will be some one's best friend.
Atticus, the truest end. He is the embodiment of the notion that you are capable of doing anything, if only you believe in yourself. He's strong willed. He fears very little. He has no concept of the word can't. I truly believe he'll never use it. He is sort of the best mix of all of his siblings. He walks up to any kid and asks them to be his friend. He is quick to show love, but will let you know if you've ticked him off. He's creative, compassionate, entertaining and a thinker. He sort of has embodied more than I probably ever thought he would at the time he was born. He has been my benchmark on parenting, if he's jacked up, well there's only me to thank for that. He will forever be my reminder that life, no matter what you are thrown, does go on...what the view looks like is entirely up to you.
We go back to the "...if I knew then what I know now...". To me, life isn't meant to be anything other than how you survive it. If I would have been told how my life would have turned after having Atticus, it would have actually been to my detriment. I would never have learned all I have about my children, or myself. I would never have been able to get past what life handed out, to understand what ELSE life CAN hand you. Yeah, I know more now than I knew then...But, tonight, when we are lighting a "3" candle on a birthday cake, I am reminding myself something. I'm reminding myself that going forward, while sometimes scary, also gives this abounding hope of what is yet to be. To my youngest, Atticus...I write this with tears in my eyes, because I think you are the bravest kid I've ever met. Let's eat that ugly cake now!
Each of my children's reason for existence is very different...that sounds cryptic. What I mean is that the reasons I feel I'm lucky enough to be their parent is different. Sure I believe they were all put on this earth to accomplish something unique and exciting, but it's more. I identify who they are and what they will be maybe the most in my heart.
Oscar miracle baby. We were told we'd probably not be able to get pregnant, due to anti rejection medication that Jason was on. When we found out we did, it wasn't a feeling of "HA! TAKE THAT WESTERN MEDICINE!" It was more like the feeling of being blessed. Blessed to be parents. Blessed to have an answered prayer. Blessed to have the chance to watch something that was just ours grow. He's possibly a bit spoiled, being the oldest. He's at times a bit too literal with his thoughts. He's like granite; beautifully, endlessly layered and at times hard to crack. He was brought to this earth to engage in a unique way, with his interesting insights on life and endless creativity.
Abe was the affirmation, clearly we might no longer have a problem getting pregnant. Having babies 18 months apart gets you some very interesting looks, as if perhaps we needed another hobby. Why does anyone feel it necessary to actually say, "...you know what causes that, don't you?" Gross. At any rate, he was this whirlwind of a baby, a tad clingy, a tad ornery, but completely adorable. Always ready to entertain. Always ready to play. Always quick to pick up exactly what you NEVER wanted anyone to repeat. He's bright, entertaining, and caring. He holds this unbelievable ability to connect with the smallest of children, engage them, and wants to teach them. He was brought to this earth to be a father, first and foremost.
Nora. In a house where everyone stood to pee BUT me, Nora was the daughter I desperately needed. She was this tiny little thing in the beginning, and watching the men in my life turn to putty around her...was something I'll never forget. She's quick with a joke. Her volume is sometimes nonexistent. She's an old sole, the likes of which I cannot even put an age to. She has helped me when I really felt like giving up. She has understood, even when I couldn't answer her question. She was brought to this earth to help me remember the value of another female-drama and all. Not sure if she'll ever be a mother, but I am convinced that she will be some one's best friend.
Atticus, the truest end. He is the embodiment of the notion that you are capable of doing anything, if only you believe in yourself. He's strong willed. He fears very little. He has no concept of the word can't. I truly believe he'll never use it. He is sort of the best mix of all of his siblings. He walks up to any kid and asks them to be his friend. He is quick to show love, but will let you know if you've ticked him off. He's creative, compassionate, entertaining and a thinker. He sort of has embodied more than I probably ever thought he would at the time he was born. He has been my benchmark on parenting, if he's jacked up, well there's only me to thank for that. He will forever be my reminder that life, no matter what you are thrown, does go on...what the view looks like is entirely up to you.
We go back to the "...if I knew then what I know now...". To me, life isn't meant to be anything other than how you survive it. If I would have been told how my life would have turned after having Atticus, it would have actually been to my detriment. I would never have learned all I have about my children, or myself. I would never have been able to get past what life handed out, to understand what ELSE life CAN hand you. Yeah, I know more now than I knew then...But, tonight, when we are lighting a "3" candle on a birthday cake, I am reminding myself something. I'm reminding myself that going forward, while sometimes scary, also gives this abounding hope of what is yet to be. To my youngest, Atticus...I write this with tears in my eyes, because I think you are the bravest kid I've ever met. Let's eat that ugly cake now!
Sunday, January 25, 2015
...turning tricks...
...it happens...occasionally, it does happen. That moment that most every parent catches themselves in. That moment where, you notice the calm. It's too quiet. That moment when you catch yourself, look around and wonder if your family finally drove off. And then you see them, calmly laying down to watch a movie. A plan completely formulated by them, not done under protest or mandate. For an instant, you feel like the universe is aligned. You feel for just an instant how wonderful to finally get what you needed for that day. In the next instant, you are making a MAD DASH to get anything done, the stuff of your wildest dreams, because you know it's probably only going to last about 19 minutes.
Every Sunday since the new year, we have had "Your Favorite Sunday Dinner". Each week one of the kids pick their favorite meal, and we come together and make it. Some have been extravagant, some have been simple...some have even just been lunch. All have been eaten at our dining room table, with real glasses, napkins, music playing in the background and together. It has been one of my favorite resolutions...and it costs nothing. It's something I look forward to every week, the kids feel like they are getting their favorite foods more regularly (besides the kid food I always make), and everyone is happy.
I'm not sure if my Atticus has been secretly training with the Navy...but every day for almost a week, at 3:30, the kid is up and ready to go. He greets my half open eyelids with the phrase, "...good morning mommy, I'm ready to get up..." To which I tell him that no one who isn't working the third shift is currently awake, please lay down and try to go back to sleep. It's too bad he isn't able to read, he could probably get a part-time job in those early morning hours from his crib. I'm not sure why he's turning tricks so early in the morning. I'm aware that he still naps, and gladly so for his sanity and my own. But, I think we are about to turn the corner on that. I'm hoping for an early spring, and contemplating showing him how to mow the lawn.
The plague has reared it's head very nearly here a couple of times...but, it's latest and most dramatic victim is Nora. She greeted me just after Atticus this morning. As if she were tying out for a role on a soap opera, she looks at me and says, "...when will this ever leave? I want my old life back..." She's been sick for 2 days. Hoping that rest and a visit to who she calls "Dr. Dreamy" will be in order tomorrow. Until then, I just hear dramatic music playing in my head when ever she speaks.
Oscar has taken to listening to ACDC every waking moment. His air guitar and not so quiet drumming teeters between hilarious and obnoxious. I just found him under a robe, ear buds in, singing "Thunderstruck". He approached me with a paper he had recently written for school. A couple of weeks ago I was completely freaked out when he was telling my what he was writing about. I confide probably too much in the Talls, but at times they are my sounding board. I probably should censor some topics that I talk to them about, but I think for me its because there isn't another adult in this house. While reading the paper, I was struck with how interestingly his mind works. He didn't give details to what we had spoken about, but primarily he was writing about how he looked forward to these conversations...hearing the dirt and the funny stories. I told him I would help him start a blog. My only stipulation was that I needed to proof read it before he posted it. He has an interesting take on life, I hope he continues it and uses writing as a creative outlet.
Abe, well today, he has been the ultimate entertainer. It seems as if he cannot be out of Atticus' sight for more than 3 minutes. He has organized a movie marathon in the living room, with blankets, pillows, and used my own personal favorite weapon...the lure of popcorn. I'm not sure how long it will last, but I am using these 19 minutes like they might be my last on earth. Hung some things up, picked up the house, and cleaned the kitchen. He is like a pied piper at times, and I am grateful for it...however, I know about 4 pm, he'll be tired of everyone in this house. Like James Brown, being assisted shuffling off the stage...being the ultimate entertainer takes a lot out of you!
My 19 minutes are up...THUNDERDOME sounds like it is getting started...for a brief and wonderful moment the universe aligned, I got something done, and no one drove away...at least yet.
Every Sunday since the new year, we have had "Your Favorite Sunday Dinner". Each week one of the kids pick their favorite meal, and we come together and make it. Some have been extravagant, some have been simple...some have even just been lunch. All have been eaten at our dining room table, with real glasses, napkins, music playing in the background and together. It has been one of my favorite resolutions...and it costs nothing. It's something I look forward to every week, the kids feel like they are getting their favorite foods more regularly (besides the kid food I always make), and everyone is happy.
I'm not sure if my Atticus has been secretly training with the Navy...but every day for almost a week, at 3:30, the kid is up and ready to go. He greets my half open eyelids with the phrase, "...good morning mommy, I'm ready to get up..." To which I tell him that no one who isn't working the third shift is currently awake, please lay down and try to go back to sleep. It's too bad he isn't able to read, he could probably get a part-time job in those early morning hours from his crib. I'm not sure why he's turning tricks so early in the morning. I'm aware that he still naps, and gladly so for his sanity and my own. But, I think we are about to turn the corner on that. I'm hoping for an early spring, and contemplating showing him how to mow the lawn.
The plague has reared it's head very nearly here a couple of times...but, it's latest and most dramatic victim is Nora. She greeted me just after Atticus this morning. As if she were tying out for a role on a soap opera, she looks at me and says, "...when will this ever leave? I want my old life back..." She's been sick for 2 days. Hoping that rest and a visit to who she calls "Dr. Dreamy" will be in order tomorrow. Until then, I just hear dramatic music playing in my head when ever she speaks.
Oscar has taken to listening to ACDC every waking moment. His air guitar and not so quiet drumming teeters between hilarious and obnoxious. I just found him under a robe, ear buds in, singing "Thunderstruck". He approached me with a paper he had recently written for school. A couple of weeks ago I was completely freaked out when he was telling my what he was writing about. I confide probably too much in the Talls, but at times they are my sounding board. I probably should censor some topics that I talk to them about, but I think for me its because there isn't another adult in this house. While reading the paper, I was struck with how interestingly his mind works. He didn't give details to what we had spoken about, but primarily he was writing about how he looked forward to these conversations...hearing the dirt and the funny stories. I told him I would help him start a blog. My only stipulation was that I needed to proof read it before he posted it. He has an interesting take on life, I hope he continues it and uses writing as a creative outlet.
Abe, well today, he has been the ultimate entertainer. It seems as if he cannot be out of Atticus' sight for more than 3 minutes. He has organized a movie marathon in the living room, with blankets, pillows, and used my own personal favorite weapon...the lure of popcorn. I'm not sure how long it will last, but I am using these 19 minutes like they might be my last on earth. Hung some things up, picked up the house, and cleaned the kitchen. He is like a pied piper at times, and I am grateful for it...however, I know about 4 pm, he'll be tired of everyone in this house. Like James Brown, being assisted shuffling off the stage...being the ultimate entertainer takes a lot out of you!
My 19 minutes are up...THUNDERDOME sounds like it is getting started...for a brief and wonderful moment the universe aligned, I got something done, and no one drove away...at least yet.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
...little people and lucky pennies...
So, we're 21 days into the new year...and I've made some mental resolutions...some I've kept, some I've already slacked a bit on, and some that I've yet to accomplish. But what's life without goals, really? With every passing year, all one can really hope for is health, happiness, and good fortune. Make those doctor appointments and actually go to them. Get off your butt and get moving. Unclutter those hidden junk drawers. Start saving money for "fun projects". For me, sometimes you have to pay some of those resolutions forward in the process.
I resolved this year to make sure that I let people know what they mean to me. I am beyond fortunate to have people in my life that I honestly couldn't do without. The sun just doesn't shine out my butt everyday on this homestead, despite the impression I might give off. I am grateful to have people that keep me smiling, even when I don't want to. Sometimes these people are my offspring. Their capacity to understand me is greater than I would like at times. I am lucky, grateful, proud, and blessed to have them in my life. At times, it's difficult to remember how our lives once were...I guess that means we are rolling in the right direction and not to question it.
Then there are those people who are not genetically linked to me who keep me smiling. Their ability to mentally bail me out...understand me more than I would have ever been comfortable with before. Their love and thoughtfulness is what has kept me rolling in the right direction, even when I felt like taking a detour. My life is better with them in it and well, thank you just doesn't seem like a heavy enough sentiment...so, I'll just say I'm lucky to get to love you.
Then there are those people who possibly have no idea how much I look up to them. Their ability to lift people up, maybe even me at times, is a characteristic that is like a shiny invisible star. They have no idea how much it glimmers, but to those who need it, it's a light at the end of the tunnel. People like this aren't just a blessing to have in your life, they are like air. They are self aware, confident, thoughtful, caring, and brave. These people are like the blind little person on the campus where I went to college. Now, I'm sure it's highly politically incorrect, but seeing that guy, it was like seeing a chimney sweep, always good luck.
There are those people you can just rant to. You might not talk to them everyday, but when you are half past your rant quotient, they are there ready to listen. Hopefully they can add some fuel to that rant, get you laughing, and you forget what you were pissed about in the first place. People like this are like finding a lucky penny, you pick it up without hesitation.
Life does not guarantee you anything, but knowing love and showing it to others...it's what makes the lack of guarantee not terrifying. We are all put on this earth with a purpose. Most of your life is spent trying to find that purpose. In reality it happens without your knowledge...stop looking for your purpose and appreciate the people that give you a purpose...Happy 2015!
I resolved this year to make sure that I let people know what they mean to me. I am beyond fortunate to have people in my life that I honestly couldn't do without. The sun just doesn't shine out my butt everyday on this homestead, despite the impression I might give off. I am grateful to have people that keep me smiling, even when I don't want to. Sometimes these people are my offspring. Their capacity to understand me is greater than I would like at times. I am lucky, grateful, proud, and blessed to have them in my life. At times, it's difficult to remember how our lives once were...I guess that means we are rolling in the right direction and not to question it.
Then there are those people who are not genetically linked to me who keep me smiling. Their ability to mentally bail me out...understand me more than I would have ever been comfortable with before. Their love and thoughtfulness is what has kept me rolling in the right direction, even when I felt like taking a detour. My life is better with them in it and well, thank you just doesn't seem like a heavy enough sentiment...so, I'll just say I'm lucky to get to love you.
Then there are those people who possibly have no idea how much I look up to them. Their ability to lift people up, maybe even me at times, is a characteristic that is like a shiny invisible star. They have no idea how much it glimmers, but to those who need it, it's a light at the end of the tunnel. People like this aren't just a blessing to have in your life, they are like air. They are self aware, confident, thoughtful, caring, and brave. These people are like the blind little person on the campus where I went to college. Now, I'm sure it's highly politically incorrect, but seeing that guy, it was like seeing a chimney sweep, always good luck.
There are those people you can just rant to. You might not talk to them everyday, but when you are half past your rant quotient, they are there ready to listen. Hopefully they can add some fuel to that rant, get you laughing, and you forget what you were pissed about in the first place. People like this are like finding a lucky penny, you pick it up without hesitation.
Life does not guarantee you anything, but knowing love and showing it to others...it's what makes the lack of guarantee not terrifying. We are all put on this earth with a purpose. Most of your life is spent trying to find that purpose. In reality it happens without your knowledge...stop looking for your purpose and appreciate the people that give you a purpose...Happy 2015!
...phase 3...
Morning two into my mandate of "anyone over the age of 8 must shower daily" and we survived. The first day, you'd thought I had asked them to climb Everest...followed by stopping feet and dirty looks. I was not deterred by it. It felt good. It felt good to see a new phase upon us...not just the one that is seriously a public service to anyone they come into contact with. It's yet another phase of life, forever inevitable, that beckons the feeling of new growth, new stages...Let's face it, these boys while witty and clever, their combined odor could be used as corporal punishment.
I'm not sure if it's normal...but over the last two years, I have measured time by everything that has happened after Jason died. Possibly because we had to sort of pick ourselves up and start over, maybe because we had to find what our "normal" was, which still resembles anything but. In this time measurement my mind also falls back onto the many hours spent in a semi-lit room rocking a 9 month old with a bottle. Those many hours I spent alone with the one person that most resembled the person just that had just been taken from our lives. I would sit there looking at Atticus, wondering how in the world I was going to make any of this work. Terrified. Tearful at times. Timid...I would send out my quiet fears into this room, onto the incomprehensible ears of this child, hoping to figure out what to do next...the next phase.
My life as a mother, unknowingly, has been spent talking. I never realized it until it was pointed out to me that I narrate my every move. Maybe my talking was out of needing someone to talk to when the kids were smaller. Whatever the case, it has made me realize that perhaps I spoke too much. Now, when I am about to tell my kids what I am about to do, I stop myself and think "...just tiptoe away, they'll no doubt come and find you..."
But that narration was feeding little brains a multitude of words that now, while exasperating at times, I have to laugh when I hear my own words said back to me...at least they were listening, right? Nora talking about falling on her money maker to someone at church...Abe commenting to someone on his quiet charm...Oscar, after hearing me complain about nothing, saying "...sounds like rich people problems..." Hearing Atticus yell at Nora from another room, "WE AREN'T LAUGHING AT YOU, WE'RE LAUGHING WITH YOU..."Onto another phase...
So much in that original measurement of time has changed...that little 9 month old that I rocked isn't so little anymore. His communication has become bitter sweet at times. He is in his mimic stage, and his hearing is like that of a jungle cat. Yesterday, when he was giving his 5 reasons why he NEEDED to watch Elmo's Christmas, it all came to me. I sort of longed for those days when I couldn't understand what he was saying, because at least I didn't know if he was telling me off.
I see how much this tiny person has changed. This nearly 3 year old has now lived most of his life with a single mother and three rowdy siblings. He doesn't probably ponder what life once was...and for that I'm sort of grateful. I realized that I now sort of measure time by him. I see him learning, scheming, growing, and he's still in one piece. He understands who is dad is, he remembers stories we've told him about Jason. He knows that our family is unique and not like others, and I see how his siblings step in, unsolicited, and help be that other parent when needed.
I don't think I'm alone in watching how much Atticus has changed. Certainly the Talls enjoy his ability to mimic, hoping dirty limericks aren't on the horizon. He sort of ties us all together for reasons other than the fact that we're family. He's comic relief when needed. He's the hug at the end of the day. He's the one who's not afraid to say "I love you" while accidentally spiting food on you. He's getting ready for another birthday, and we're heading into phase 3...
I'm not sure if it's normal...but over the last two years, I have measured time by everything that has happened after Jason died. Possibly because we had to sort of pick ourselves up and start over, maybe because we had to find what our "normal" was, which still resembles anything but. In this time measurement my mind also falls back onto the many hours spent in a semi-lit room rocking a 9 month old with a bottle. Those many hours I spent alone with the one person that most resembled the person just that had just been taken from our lives. I would sit there looking at Atticus, wondering how in the world I was going to make any of this work. Terrified. Tearful at times. Timid...I would send out my quiet fears into this room, onto the incomprehensible ears of this child, hoping to figure out what to do next...the next phase.
My life as a mother, unknowingly, has been spent talking. I never realized it until it was pointed out to me that I narrate my every move. Maybe my talking was out of needing someone to talk to when the kids were smaller. Whatever the case, it has made me realize that perhaps I spoke too much. Now, when I am about to tell my kids what I am about to do, I stop myself and think "...just tiptoe away, they'll no doubt come and find you..."
But that narration was feeding little brains a multitude of words that now, while exasperating at times, I have to laugh when I hear my own words said back to me...at least they were listening, right? Nora talking about falling on her money maker to someone at church...Abe commenting to someone on his quiet charm...Oscar, after hearing me complain about nothing, saying "...sounds like rich people problems..." Hearing Atticus yell at Nora from another room, "WE AREN'T LAUGHING AT YOU, WE'RE LAUGHING WITH YOU..."Onto another phase...
So much in that original measurement of time has changed...that little 9 month old that I rocked isn't so little anymore. His communication has become bitter sweet at times. He is in his mimic stage, and his hearing is like that of a jungle cat. Yesterday, when he was giving his 5 reasons why he NEEDED to watch Elmo's Christmas, it all came to me. I sort of longed for those days when I couldn't understand what he was saying, because at least I didn't know if he was telling me off.
I see how much this tiny person has changed. This nearly 3 year old has now lived most of his life with a single mother and three rowdy siblings. He doesn't probably ponder what life once was...and for that I'm sort of grateful. I realized that I now sort of measure time by him. I see him learning, scheming, growing, and he's still in one piece. He understands who is dad is, he remembers stories we've told him about Jason. He knows that our family is unique and not like others, and I see how his siblings step in, unsolicited, and help be that other parent when needed.
I don't think I'm alone in watching how much Atticus has changed. Certainly the Talls enjoy his ability to mimic, hoping dirty limericks aren't on the horizon. He sort of ties us all together for reasons other than the fact that we're family. He's comic relief when needed. He's the hug at the end of the day. He's the one who's not afraid to say "I love you" while accidentally spiting food on you. He's getting ready for another birthday, and we're heading into phase 3...
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