So, a strange thing happened to me yesterday. I was checking out at a store and the lady in front of me turned to me and said, "I don't really know you, but I keep up with you through friends on social media. I just wanted to tell you how happy I am for you that you are getting remarried. You deserve to be happy, you and your kids have been through a lot. I'm so glad that life is treating you well." I thanked her and said considering where I was five years ago at this time, I never imagined my life would be what it is today.
The "Dark Day"...everyone has one. Whether it be a day of sadness, remembrance or the scab of grief that never fully heals itself. These days are met at times with shuttering anticipation, self-evaluation and the prophetic wonder about what the next "dark day" will look like. Through time, one hopes to see this day come and go, surviving it unscathed with hopefully a nugget of wisdom attached. Grief, sadly for those who experience it, is atemporal, free from limitations of time. However, happiness is also atemporal, if one continues to see a silver lining, no matter how difficult it might be. Yesterday, it was a stranger who made sure to remind me the millions of reasons I have to smile.
For me, this day is a day I have been wondering about for the last five years. I wondered how I would be five years beyond. I wondered how I would figure out how to go on living, raising kids, making ends meet, single parenting and basically holding it all together without my best friend. I remember looking at my mom and saying, "I can't do this." Fully not believing in myself because I never had to before in this way. This extreme way of dealing with life basically alone, other than the offspring that we created, my best friend and I. The mere notion of being outnumbered and raising kids I knew I would most definitely screw up...how's that for atemporal?
Today five years later, I'm grateful. I'm grateful for the chance to have become a mother, the toughest job you'll ever love. I'm grateful to have had a best friend who I am sure is looking down on our kids with pride, and occasionally laughing his ass off at the antics they attempt. I'm grateful for the support of friends and family, encouraging me to not forget my strength. I'm grateful for the chance to fully accept that life is not always kind, so take what you are given and live it to its fullest. I'm grateful for the arguments my kids had with me this morning about wearing their hats, and my come back to them, "Well, you're going to take them off as soon as I pull away from the school- humor me, please." I'm grateful for a cocktail some days. I'm grateful for the chance I've been given to be a wife again. I'm grateful for someone to love again. I'm grateful for the understanding that the last five years have given me. Today is not where I thought I would be five years ago, it is way better than I could ever have anticipated. No one is in jail (yet), only a few trips to the ER, and we've all endured this thing called life.
Through the years, on this "dark day" I would never look at social media. I would never sit down or sit still for fear I might lose it. My phone was put away and the kids and I would set out on an adventure. I had always hoped that eventually, the "dark day" could just become a "shady day," knowing only time would get us there eventually. I sort of feel like it has. Five years later, we're scaling back a bit, having a nice dinner, sharing fun memories about their dad...and buying shoes. (GASP!!!!) Anyone with offspring know, buying shoes for one kid, let alone four is something akin to any myriad of the tactics used at Guantanamo Bay. A cocktail at dinner for me and ice cream for the kids afterwards will be the reward for somehow not getting arrested in a department store today. Five years later, I'm still thanking Jason for the gifts he has given me. Also, I want to thank those gifts, my kids, for always giving me a reason to look for a silver lining, not only on this "shady day" but every day.
Just to be safe, here's a heads up if I call you from the police station, I'm going to need a ride.
Showing posts with label Time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Time. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 7, 2017
Friday, January 27, 2017
...choosing favorites...
A friend of mine who doesn't have kids, likes to routinely ask me, "So...which one is your favorite?" I always laugh at this question. Partly because I know the two of us live very different lives, partly because I know they have their favorite and partly because they cannot understand the gravity of that question. Different times of day we all have the best or even better versions of ourselves...Some people are morning people, others do their best work as night owls and some have just your run of the mill "Pissy Pant" days. I quantify this into my answer for this question, and much to their dismay, I always say, "All of them..."
But as time moves across my face, waistline and navigates my old lady hormones, I cannot help but feel conflicted. I always sort of shook my head in disbelief at those moms who "mourned" their children getting older. Why? Why wouldn't you want these precious offspring to become more independent, less poop-pant-filled and grown up? But as I get ready for the next birthday in my house, I find myself becoming one of those sad-sacks, who just upon looking at a picture of my youngest child in a highchair, for what seems a million years ago, I get almost misty. I'm not claiming a favorite child, but I am recognizing that our relationship is indeed special.
In two weeks my Atticus, the little fellow with such a powerful name, will be turning 5 years old. How is that possible? It seems like yesterday I was coming home with him from the hospital. I feel like he is the best version of the youngest child, because he doesn't take any crap from his siblings. He is a straight shooter, who only tells it like it is when he feels it is necessary. He has developed this sense of humor that will carry him through life in a way that I know will be positive. But no matter what the calendar says, my mind races back to him at nine months old.
I used to sort of begrudge doing evening feedings at times with my kids. I felt like I was missing out on all the action as I attempted to put to sleep a child with a bottle in a lightly dimmed room. I was always strict with a routine when my kids were this little, and my control freak ways lead me to believe that if I didn't put the child to bed, it wouldn't be done correctly. CHUMP. But, be that as it may, that routine probably saved more than my sanity when I became outnumbered by kids. And all these years later, little did I know at the time, it was a therapy for me that will be forever unmatched.
I remember sitting in a rocking chair with Atticus, probably more than I remember sitting with any of my other children. I would feed him a bottle and pretty much mentally cleanse whatever it was I was dealing with at the time, and there was plenty. I would look at him and wonder about life. I would look at him and wonder why he was dealt the hand that he had been. I would hold him just as he was drifting off and think, how will he ever know normal? He was my alarm clock in the morning (still is) and my night cap at night. He was so little, but he helped me in ways I will never be able to fully explain. I believe he was given to me for this specific reason, well before I knew how my life would have ever been. He is more than just my child, he is my gift.
I love all of my children exactly the same, they are all my favorite...but in different ways. Oscar is my creative, contemplative, quiet soul, who has something to say, but usually thinks about it before he says it. When he laughs at my jokes, I take it as the highest compliment. Abe is my outgoing character, who loves to love with his whole heart and be in the mix of everything, dispensing comic relief when necessary all the while understanding when to deliver a punchline. Nora is my old soul, with a creative mind, unconventional and a heart filled with love. Atticus is this tiny power house, with a loving heart, quick with a compliment and the most unique youngest child. He might not have been my first child, but he will always be my essential example of why silver linings are more than a way of looking at life, as they were given to me in the quiet, of a dim lit room...
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, May 6, 2014
...toilet deodorizer as aftershave
You should know...I'm a broken record. But, there are some things, ways I live my life that are just plain necessary. They may sound 'Polly-Anna' to have to be repeated let alone even said once...But time is a mysterious thing. Time can take away from you what you most desperately need. Time can give you one last chance at something you most desperately want. Time can teach you what you inevitably wish you knew when you had the chance.
Insert the silver lining. For me, they have been necessary for survival. Finding SOMETHING POSITIVE to glean out of a situation, well it takes effort. At least it takes your mind to a place of gratefulness, even if it is for the ability to spell grateful. I guess I see them, silver linings, now more because I know how blindly I have lived my life before. Never really appreciating the things that REALLY mattered when I had the chance. The things that can't properly be recreated after the fact. The notion now that time waits for NO ONE. Fleeting doesn't even begin to describe when you missed that moment, that opportunity...My silver lining from this is, I am DAMNED grateful (and I just had auto correct fix my spelling of grateful). I am so very appreciative of those I know who care for me, those who appreciate what I do for them, and the ones who would fight for me if I needed them to. Time may wait for no one, but it has taught this one what matters.
This issue of time is poignant this weekend. Our family is all getting together for Abe's First Communion. It's hard to believe that he's not still four years old, using toilet deodorizer as aftershave any more. I'm hoping to some how avoid the phrase, "...at Oscar's First Communion..." Clearly life has happened since then. Time didn't wait. It has been tough for Abe, as there were a few things he didn't get to ever do with his Dad that Oscar did. I cannot read his mind, but if I could I think I would read a chronological list of all the things he didn't get to do with Jason. It's a tough pill to swallow, explaining time to an 8 year old. I'm hoping to fill this house with love, laughter and fun, so that the obvious might be a bit less so. Abe is the middle kid, and even though his personality is larger than life, he sometimes gets lost in the shuffle.
While shuffling, he's usually watching/playing with the younger kids without even being asked...he's just a gem...with a bit of a mouth on him, but he's earned it. I always dread these situations. Wondering if with time they will heal us/themselves? Remembering the first school program after Jason died, wondering how Abe was feeling just seeing who wasn't there. There will have to be a discussion before the end of the week. As a parent, it's like being fearful of ripping off an invisible Band-Aid. Wondering/hoping that the dialog will leave him feeling better than before it started. I would like to labor under the delusion that if the Talls wanted to talk about something, they would come and do so. But, I'm old and a woman...could never be a member of their 'Fight Club'...
I would also be lying if I said I wasn't worried about something Abe might do. He likes to fancy himself a 'showman'. I'm more than a little worried about what his Finale act might entail in front of family and our small church. I'm worried it will be seen more as a Cabaret Night, and less like a First Communion. He might surprise me, but I know it won't lack in entertainment. And there it is...my silver lining.
Insert the silver lining. For me, they have been necessary for survival. Finding SOMETHING POSITIVE to glean out of a situation, well it takes effort. At least it takes your mind to a place of gratefulness, even if it is for the ability to spell grateful. I guess I see them, silver linings, now more because I know how blindly I have lived my life before. Never really appreciating the things that REALLY mattered when I had the chance. The things that can't properly be recreated after the fact. The notion now that time waits for NO ONE. Fleeting doesn't even begin to describe when you missed that moment, that opportunity...My silver lining from this is, I am DAMNED grateful (and I just had auto correct fix my spelling of grateful). I am so very appreciative of those I know who care for me, those who appreciate what I do for them, and the ones who would fight for me if I needed them to. Time may wait for no one, but it has taught this one what matters.
This issue of time is poignant this weekend. Our family is all getting together for Abe's First Communion. It's hard to believe that he's not still four years old, using toilet deodorizer as aftershave any more. I'm hoping to some how avoid the phrase, "...at Oscar's First Communion..." Clearly life has happened since then. Time didn't wait. It has been tough for Abe, as there were a few things he didn't get to ever do with his Dad that Oscar did. I cannot read his mind, but if I could I think I would read a chronological list of all the things he didn't get to do with Jason. It's a tough pill to swallow, explaining time to an 8 year old. I'm hoping to fill this house with love, laughter and fun, so that the obvious might be a bit less so. Abe is the middle kid, and even though his personality is larger than life, he sometimes gets lost in the shuffle.
While shuffling, he's usually watching/playing with the younger kids without even being asked...he's just a gem...with a bit of a mouth on him, but he's earned it. I always dread these situations. Wondering if with time they will heal us/themselves? Remembering the first school program after Jason died, wondering how Abe was feeling just seeing who wasn't there. There will have to be a discussion before the end of the week. As a parent, it's like being fearful of ripping off an invisible Band-Aid. Wondering/hoping that the dialog will leave him feeling better than before it started. I would like to labor under the delusion that if the Talls wanted to talk about something, they would come and do so. But, I'm old and a woman...could never be a member of their 'Fight Club'...
I would also be lying if I said I wasn't worried about something Abe might do. He likes to fancy himself a 'showman'. I'm more than a little worried about what his Finale act might entail in front of family and our small church. I'm worried it will be seen more as a Cabaret Night, and less like a First Communion. He might surprise me, but I know it won't lack in entertainment. And there it is...my silver lining.
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