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.
Showing posts with label coping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coping. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
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, 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.
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...
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
...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...
Saturday, December 27, 2014
...Precious Moments...
We've been playing nothing but games for the last week...Uno, Yahtzee, Head Bands, Gooey Louie and Operation. But the game that is just ahead of me is that of numbers. The game of wondering if where you are is, well, where you are...When did you get to be this damned old?
I guess the cosmic question that I ask myself is what is the difference between my actual age and my mental age. I'm blessed to be friends with a woman that knows all too well how grief can define these terms...she's my soul sister as we call each other. While she is younger than I am, she's a veteran with more years under her belt of the game of "widow dome". We've talked about how when your life is so drastically changed, it seriously ages you a half a decade within minutes. The fawn-eyed person you once were is a mere wisp of what you have to now take on. The mere notion of ADULTHOOD in it's earlier stages is very, very real now.
ADULTHOOD. When does that really occur? Through every one's life there is always some mental benchmark of where they will be at a certain age. There is a far off notion of what "old" looks like. There is a place that is contented, settled, adjusted, and secure that you see yourself when you get older. I wonder at times if I went back and talked to my 21 year old self what I would tell her. What would I say to prepare her for her life ahead? Would the things I once found so important even make the short list? When did I hit the age where I had to face the fact that yes, I am indeed an...ADULT?
While everyday is a new day, some just aren't as rosy as others, that's life. But, in the last two years, I have found an interesting phenomenon. Just about the time when you think you might as well give up, as everything you are doing is an expired version of sucking...someone says something that really lifts you. Someone you barely know, can see what you can't. Today at an indoor pool I bumped into another mom who I had met once. We became friends on social media, and I've noticed how adorable her family is. While it was nice to see a familiar face, it was really nice to sort of catch up in person. At one point she looks at me and says, "...how do you do this?" I jokingly said something about a cocktail time. I wanted to further add that you would find no Precious Moments figurines based on anything that goes on in my house. Yet, in that one question, it reminded me to suck it up. You are surviving. You are doing this. You may have stretch marks, gray hair, and be on your last year of your thirties...but it's getting done.
So, I'm taking this next year to get MORE done. I've got plans, goals, ideas, and intentions of making my 39th year something to remember. There are a few things that I have put on the proverbial back burner that are coming into the heat. I need to be mindful of the continuing notion that I was put here for a purpose. Yeah, I'm outnumbered in my house on a daily basis. Yeah, I fold more laundry than is probably allowed by law outside of a Laundromat. Yeah, I can throw a cocktail party together in about 17 minutes. But, I want more.
I'm turning 40 years old in 368 days...I have 368 days to make it count. I have the next 368 days to remind myself that limits are mostly set in the mind. I have 368 days to remind myself that my kids, while they are at times my biggest worry they are also my best cheerleaders with my DNA. I have 368 days to remember that perfection is over rated. I have 368 days to consider how truly wonderful being 40 will be. I have all of this time to take advantage of what is in front of me, all the while knowing what I have in my back pocket has made me what I am today...(gulp) an ADULT.
I guess the cosmic question that I ask myself is what is the difference between my actual age and my mental age. I'm blessed to be friends with a woman that knows all too well how grief can define these terms...she's my soul sister as we call each other. While she is younger than I am, she's a veteran with more years under her belt of the game of "widow dome". We've talked about how when your life is so drastically changed, it seriously ages you a half a decade within minutes. The fawn-eyed person you once were is a mere wisp of what you have to now take on. The mere notion of ADULTHOOD in it's earlier stages is very, very real now.
ADULTHOOD. When does that really occur? Through every one's life there is always some mental benchmark of where they will be at a certain age. There is a far off notion of what "old" looks like. There is a place that is contented, settled, adjusted, and secure that you see yourself when you get older. I wonder at times if I went back and talked to my 21 year old self what I would tell her. What would I say to prepare her for her life ahead? Would the things I once found so important even make the short list? When did I hit the age where I had to face the fact that yes, I am indeed an...ADULT?
While everyday is a new day, some just aren't as rosy as others, that's life. But, in the last two years, I have found an interesting phenomenon. Just about the time when you think you might as well give up, as everything you are doing is an expired version of sucking...someone says something that really lifts you. Someone you barely know, can see what you can't. Today at an indoor pool I bumped into another mom who I had met once. We became friends on social media, and I've noticed how adorable her family is. While it was nice to see a familiar face, it was really nice to sort of catch up in person. At one point she looks at me and says, "...how do you do this?" I jokingly said something about a cocktail time. I wanted to further add that you would find no Precious Moments figurines based on anything that goes on in my house. Yet, in that one question, it reminded me to suck it up. You are surviving. You are doing this. You may have stretch marks, gray hair, and be on your last year of your thirties...but it's getting done.
So, I'm taking this next year to get MORE done. I've got plans, goals, ideas, and intentions of making my 39th year something to remember. There are a few things that I have put on the proverbial back burner that are coming into the heat. I need to be mindful of the continuing notion that I was put here for a purpose. Yeah, I'm outnumbered in my house on a daily basis. Yeah, I fold more laundry than is probably allowed by law outside of a Laundromat. Yeah, I can throw a cocktail party together in about 17 minutes. But, I want more.
I'm turning 40 years old in 368 days...I have 368 days to make it count. I have the next 368 days to remind myself that limits are mostly set in the mind. I have 368 days to remind myself that my kids, while they are at times my biggest worry they are also my best cheerleaders with my DNA. I have 368 days to remember that perfection is over rated. I have 368 days to consider how truly wonderful being 40 will be. I have all of this time to take advantage of what is in front of me, all the while knowing what I have in my back pocket has made me what I am today...(gulp) an ADULT.
Thursday, December 18, 2014
...tucked into my heart...
I have made a conscious effort. I seriously thought, looked, and took notice of what I was doing each evening so far in this month of December. Mentally taking note of the day, the time, the madness...not because I'm some over achiever mom who's Elf on the Shelf prowess is that outstanding. Not because I don't already know that half of the things I do this month are sort of on the extreme side. I take note, because this year, I only have one who knows the skinny on the big fat man. I take note because it's my favorite time of year despite the self-imposed-crap most put on ourselves. I take note because next year might be totally different...
There is a certain sort of magical feeling when the littlest of things that you try to do year after year become noticed. The little things that you tried to start, never knowing how much of a mess it would make...Never knowing how nearly you fell into a diabetic coma...the little things you started, in hopes that you were making memories. This is my time of year. This is the time of year when I can fall back on those tiny treasures of time. In the smallest of acts you are reminded that it's worth it. In the most minute of gestures you are shown that someone was paying attention. To me, that it what rounds out this time of year. To me it's the small things we've done together, that keep me going for the next year.
I was worried when Oscar no longer believed in Santa. He did his best to try to be "RIGHT" about the issue. Thankfully, he has finally realized that being right, doesn't always feel so good. He's realized, through subliminal and virtual speak, sometimes the magic of this year is seeing everyone else excited. The thrill of someone else, being all dough eyed, believing in something that's just out of reach. As I tried to explain to Oscar while we were alone the other day, it's a real lesson in life. You don't have to know you are good at something to be confident. You don't have to know the end of the story, to keep you reading. You don't have to touch something to know it's beauty. During this conversation, while I was hoping it made sense, it definitely reminded me to take my own advice.
Seeing a couple of kids scramble to see where their vertically challenged Elf has hidden. Hearing various versions of Christmas carols come out of barely understandable mouths. Watching the 'thrill' of just seeing the snow falling out the window. Hearing a 2 year old remind everyone that "...Santa is watching YOU!" Knowing that these moments, like all the others I've been told years down the road, will just be a whisper of my life someday. In these moments, when I'm about to lose my mind with trying to get everything done by Dec. 23rd...years from now won't really matter. So everyday, as I put a tiny treat into a numbered little pouch, I stop and look at the number. I stop and look at how many more there are left. Even with fevers, overnights, tantrums, freak-outs, back talk, runny noses, puke threats, and sleeplessness...I made a note and tucked it into my heart.
The thrill I find at the end of this year is what most adults dread, Christmas Vacation. To me, it's the seemingly endless adventures that await us, or even another day we veg out in our pajamas and do nothing...the choice is ours. It's snuggling on couches under blankets. It's making a mess decorating cookies. It's piling into the car in our pajamas, blaring Christmas music, looking at people's Christmas lights...and inadvertently becoming Peeping Toms from our car. There are plenty of things I could be sad about this time of year...listing them would just be redundant. Sure, sometimes those things bring me down...but this time of year for me, there are too many things...too many moments that can't necessarily happen the rest of the year. So I'm taking them and mentally hugging them...the good, the bad, and the ugly...because next year, might be totally different...
There is a certain sort of magical feeling when the littlest of things that you try to do year after year become noticed. The little things that you tried to start, never knowing how much of a mess it would make...Never knowing how nearly you fell into a diabetic coma...the little things you started, in hopes that you were making memories. This is my time of year. This is the time of year when I can fall back on those tiny treasures of time. In the smallest of acts you are reminded that it's worth it. In the most minute of gestures you are shown that someone was paying attention. To me, that it what rounds out this time of year. To me it's the small things we've done together, that keep me going for the next year.
I was worried when Oscar no longer believed in Santa. He did his best to try to be "RIGHT" about the issue. Thankfully, he has finally realized that being right, doesn't always feel so good. He's realized, through subliminal and virtual speak, sometimes the magic of this year is seeing everyone else excited. The thrill of someone else, being all dough eyed, believing in something that's just out of reach. As I tried to explain to Oscar while we were alone the other day, it's a real lesson in life. You don't have to know you are good at something to be confident. You don't have to know the end of the story, to keep you reading. You don't have to touch something to know it's beauty. During this conversation, while I was hoping it made sense, it definitely reminded me to take my own advice.
Seeing a couple of kids scramble to see where their vertically challenged Elf has hidden. Hearing various versions of Christmas carols come out of barely understandable mouths. Watching the 'thrill' of just seeing the snow falling out the window. Hearing a 2 year old remind everyone that "...Santa is watching YOU!" Knowing that these moments, like all the others I've been told years down the road, will just be a whisper of my life someday. In these moments, when I'm about to lose my mind with trying to get everything done by Dec. 23rd...years from now won't really matter. So everyday, as I put a tiny treat into a numbered little pouch, I stop and look at the number. I stop and look at how many more there are left. Even with fevers, overnights, tantrums, freak-outs, back talk, runny noses, puke threats, and sleeplessness...I made a note and tucked it into my heart.
The thrill I find at the end of this year is what most adults dread, Christmas Vacation. To me, it's the seemingly endless adventures that await us, or even another day we veg out in our pajamas and do nothing...the choice is ours. It's snuggling on couches under blankets. It's making a mess decorating cookies. It's piling into the car in our pajamas, blaring Christmas music, looking at people's Christmas lights...and inadvertently becoming Peeping Toms from our car. There are plenty of things I could be sad about this time of year...listing them would just be redundant. Sure, sometimes those things bring me down...but this time of year for me, there are too many things...too many moments that can't necessarily happen the rest of the year. So I'm taking them and mentally hugging them...the good, the bad, and the ugly...because next year, might be totally different...
Sunday, December 14, 2014
nonchalant and nude
...that day when it's gone to the crapper before 7:50 in the morning...there's been snark, whining, arguing, smack talk, and it's seemingly endless. It's the day when even a silver lining is swearing at you in another language. It sucks to pretty much start a day, when you know you might not get it together fast enough to turn it around...
Finding it increasingly difficult to reinforce certain things in this house. Maybe it's because I'm not much taller than those who live here. Maybe it's because doing double duty is exhausting some days. Maybe my kids, knowing they have me on the ropes, secretly want to see my loose my shit. Maybe it's my never ending scourge of wanting/needing to know that I'm not screwing my kids up. I no more than think this, when I am greeted by a naked two year old, nonchalantly saying "...hey mommy, what are you doing?"
What ever the reason, my quest to try to raise clean, healthy, upstanding humans out of these kids leaves me at times feeling like a failure. Puberty is just around the corner, with every passing day, seems not to matter how old I am, I KNOW NOTHING. My street cred is gone. The sum of my parts and the sum of their parts do not add up. What would I know about cleansing? What would I know about body odor? What would I know about personal hygiene in general? For that matter what do I know about anything, (getting ready for a direct quote) "YOU GREW UP IN THE 80's!" That's when I no longer have a filter...and end up saying, when your butt stinks, it doesn't matter the decade!!!
It's been pointed out to me that I'm in a pressure cooker 24/7...and I admit it, I probably put myself there. It's still no less terrifying. And some days, I cannot put into words how overwhelmed I am. Some days it feels like the day is never ending. Some days the rut one finds themselves in is more like a canyon. I just wish for one hour, their dad could come back and reinforce anything I've tried to tell them over the last 2 years. For one hour that they would intently listen, reminding them that I am all they have, and I might actually be able to teach them something. However, a wish like that is futile and simple minded. I know it's up to me to keep trying, and hoping for the best.
This is just my routine rant. This is my cycle that I go through. This is sadly not the last time. I'll think to myself, I've had it and I'm exhausted. It's not the last time I'll have to squint to find the silver lining. It's the notion of the finish line. Like if I knew where this was all going to go, if I could see the finish line, maybe it would be easier? Sure, it would take the adventure out of life, but a tiny glimpse of what will be...well, it might make turning today around a little easier.
Finding it increasingly difficult to reinforce certain things in this house. Maybe it's because I'm not much taller than those who live here. Maybe it's because doing double duty is exhausting some days. Maybe my kids, knowing they have me on the ropes, secretly want to see my loose my shit. Maybe it's my never ending scourge of wanting/needing to know that I'm not screwing my kids up. I no more than think this, when I am greeted by a naked two year old, nonchalantly saying "...hey mommy, what are you doing?"
What ever the reason, my quest to try to raise clean, healthy, upstanding humans out of these kids leaves me at times feeling like a failure. Puberty is just around the corner, with every passing day, seems not to matter how old I am, I KNOW NOTHING. My street cred is gone. The sum of my parts and the sum of their parts do not add up. What would I know about cleansing? What would I know about body odor? What would I know about personal hygiene in general? For that matter what do I know about anything, (getting ready for a direct quote) "YOU GREW UP IN THE 80's!" That's when I no longer have a filter...and end up saying, when your butt stinks, it doesn't matter the decade!!!
It's been pointed out to me that I'm in a pressure cooker 24/7...and I admit it, I probably put myself there. It's still no less terrifying. And some days, I cannot put into words how overwhelmed I am. Some days it feels like the day is never ending. Some days the rut one finds themselves in is more like a canyon. I just wish for one hour, their dad could come back and reinforce anything I've tried to tell them over the last 2 years. For one hour that they would intently listen, reminding them that I am all they have, and I might actually be able to teach them something. However, a wish like that is futile and simple minded. I know it's up to me to keep trying, and hoping for the best.
This is just my routine rant. This is my cycle that I go through. This is sadly not the last time. I'll think to myself, I've had it and I'm exhausted. It's not the last time I'll have to squint to find the silver lining. It's the notion of the finish line. Like if I knew where this was all going to go, if I could see the finish line, maybe it would be easier? Sure, it would take the adventure out of life, but a tiny glimpse of what will be...well, it might make turning today around a little easier.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
...pacifiers and big boy beds...
Well...I think it's time. Time to face the facts that while I know life moves on, I can't stop my kids from growing...ask the cashier at Aldi who sees me weekly, she knows. In life there are a few things that you just become comfortable with...For me, time alone is more than a comfort. IT'S VERY NECESSARY. It was bound to happen sooner or later, you have to shake off what's comfortable, loose some security, and try to adapt without a cocktail in hand.
No matter your age, you have a pacifier. You have that one thing, person, action that calms and settles you when you need it. Comforts you when you crave it. Helps you cope with, well perhaps life. To my Talls, they are each other's pacifiers. They have shared a room from the beginning of their lives. Their antics could possibly be cataloged. The combined preteen boy smell, possibly researched for National Geographic. Their humor, their language, their means of entertainment? It's like they are twins speaking another language...18 months and two days apart will do that to you. To my surprise today, the taller of the Talls asked if he could move to another room...and the fallout began.
The idea of moving wasn't out of anger. It wasn't out of annoyance. I offered the idea up this summer, to slightly tepid responses. I couldn't imagine a kid not wanting to get their own room if they had the chance. I was proud of the fact that he felt he was ready. But, I forgot. I forgot until today, that these Talls have been basically conjoined, with and an invisible attachment. I figured after Jason passed, it would be that way for a while. I figured that what they had together, might be what helps them to move on, and I didn't want to muddle that in any way. So today I was surprised to see one want to step out on that limb alone. What I won't forget is seeing the panic in the Tall that was getting left behind.
I remember asking a doctor once when I was in the beginning throws of being a mom...so, when do we need to move him into a real bed? Her answer has entertained me, stayed with me, comforted me, and possibly pacified me ever since. Her response was, "...I would have left my kids in their crib until they were 7. If they're not climbing out, leave 'em in there!" And so, I've held onto that over the last 10 years. With each kid until now, the only reason to move out of their crib, was because we needed someone else in it. Not the case with the last golden child of this house hold. I see Atticus growing up before my eyes. I know I slightly Jedi-Mind-Trick him everyday to take a nap because that's where his pacifier is laying. I know I then have 1.7 hours of free-ish time. I know that the seemingly tranquil comfort of putting everyone to bed and not having an escapee isn't going to be forever. Frankly, it's right around the corner.
So, I wasn't shocked to hear Abe, instantly chatting up his "mini-me". "So Atti, looks like I'm going to have some extra space in my room...what do you think about moving out of this tiny little crib and rooming with me? In a BIG BOY BED?!" It was brilliant. It was the fastest formulated plan ever conceived by a nearly 9 year old ever. It was calculating. It was excitingly delivered. It was Abe, needing a pacifier to replace the one he's had for the last 8 years. I chuckled at how quickly he was trying to solve his problem. I went from being sad for Abe, as he was silently heartbroken to think about rooming alone. I was then proud of him, instead of bitching about what was fair and what wasn't, he found a solution. He set Atti up for a nap today in his room, just to "try it out". I figured I'd find him playing Legos, never getting a wink. To Abe's excitement, we walked in and found Atti right where we left him...I would have so lost money on that one.
While we are still in the beginning stages (I need to start my mantra now), it looks like there's going to be some moving around in the future. It's time to start something fresh. It's time to put away some pacifiers. It's time to appreciate that maybe we don't need them as much as we thought to grow. It's time to start sleeping with one eye open, if the smallest Small isn't confined...(gulp). Bring on the big boy bed...
No matter your age, you have a pacifier. You have that one thing, person, action that calms and settles you when you need it. Comforts you when you crave it. Helps you cope with, well perhaps life. To my Talls, they are each other's pacifiers. They have shared a room from the beginning of their lives. Their antics could possibly be cataloged. The combined preteen boy smell, possibly researched for National Geographic. Their humor, their language, their means of entertainment? It's like they are twins speaking another language...18 months and two days apart will do that to you. To my surprise today, the taller of the Talls asked if he could move to another room...and the fallout began.
The idea of moving wasn't out of anger. It wasn't out of annoyance. I offered the idea up this summer, to slightly tepid responses. I couldn't imagine a kid not wanting to get their own room if they had the chance. I was proud of the fact that he felt he was ready. But, I forgot. I forgot until today, that these Talls have been basically conjoined, with and an invisible attachment. I figured after Jason passed, it would be that way for a while. I figured that what they had together, might be what helps them to move on, and I didn't want to muddle that in any way. So today I was surprised to see one want to step out on that limb alone. What I won't forget is seeing the panic in the Tall that was getting left behind.
I remember asking a doctor once when I was in the beginning throws of being a mom...so, when do we need to move him into a real bed? Her answer has entertained me, stayed with me, comforted me, and possibly pacified me ever since. Her response was, "...I would have left my kids in their crib until they were 7. If they're not climbing out, leave 'em in there!" And so, I've held onto that over the last 10 years. With each kid until now, the only reason to move out of their crib, was because we needed someone else in it. Not the case with the last golden child of this house hold. I see Atticus growing up before my eyes. I know I slightly Jedi-Mind-Trick him everyday to take a nap because that's where his pacifier is laying. I know I then have 1.7 hours of free-ish time. I know that the seemingly tranquil comfort of putting everyone to bed and not having an escapee isn't going to be forever. Frankly, it's right around the corner.
So, I wasn't shocked to hear Abe, instantly chatting up his "mini-me". "So Atti, looks like I'm going to have some extra space in my room...what do you think about moving out of this tiny little crib and rooming with me? In a BIG BOY BED?!" It was brilliant. It was the fastest formulated plan ever conceived by a nearly 9 year old ever. It was calculating. It was excitingly delivered. It was Abe, needing a pacifier to replace the one he's had for the last 8 years. I chuckled at how quickly he was trying to solve his problem. I went from being sad for Abe, as he was silently heartbroken to think about rooming alone. I was then proud of him, instead of bitching about what was fair and what wasn't, he found a solution. He set Atti up for a nap today in his room, just to "try it out". I figured I'd find him playing Legos, never getting a wink. To Abe's excitement, we walked in and found Atti right where we left him...I would have so lost money on that one.
While we are still in the beginning stages (I need to start my mantra now), it looks like there's going to be some moving around in the future. It's time to start something fresh. It's time to put away some pacifiers. It's time to appreciate that maybe we don't need them as much as we thought to grow. It's time to start sleeping with one eye open, if the smallest Small isn't confined...(gulp). Bring on the big boy bed...
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