Today is ok.
I am going to be ok.
This is not as bad as I thought.
I will keep myself busy.
I hope so-and-so doesn't call.
I hope so-and-so does call.
Only one winner.
Why didn't he say anything?
Who has forgotten her?
What was her smell?
Is she really gone?
Why can't I get anything done.
Why did I make an impossible task?
Why do I cry upon exhaling?
Why is there no laughter?
I want to laugh.
I don't want looks.
I don't want pity.
I want her.
Today is ok.
I am going to be ok.
Maybe.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
I don't have much to say. At least not here. My writing has taken a definite leap into deeper and some what darker places. One day maybe these private entries will find their way into some sort of novel or article, who knows?
I am gearing up for Friday. Two years she will have been gone. Much more emotional this year. I am not very stable and well, for someone who LOVES control, this is somewhat of a death statement.
I spent this weekend with some ladies from our church at a retreat. It was very relaxing, full of wonderful teaching and as predicted...emotional. I had quite a bit of mental distraction going on so I am not sure that I fully inhaled what was presented. Maybe just a whiff here and there. But, in the midst of it all, I asked my friend, Beth, who I met when we were both pregnant with our second children, nearly 8 years ago if I would be considered a "crier," you know, emotional. Her emphatic answer, "NO! But, you should be."
I concluded that because it seems I cannot walk around these days without a tissue, I am in fact, going through "something." This is not the first something, but a cycle that seems to have started when she was still alive and has become more frequent since her passing.
Another conclusion I have drawn is that I am beyond being able to get this under control using only my abilities. Challenging my independent self to the core. This is extraordinarily painful to admit. I hate myself for all the times I looked at someone "emotional" and thought why can't they just pull it together? Just, "suck it up." Wow. Get a load of that mercy. Think there is an award out there for the most merciless person on the planet. Some things are truly out of one person's control.
Plans are in place to help me, aid and assist me in this journey and for once, I welcome them with arms wide open.
I am gearing up for Friday. Two years she will have been gone. Much more emotional this year. I am not very stable and well, for someone who LOVES control, this is somewhat of a death statement.
I spent this weekend with some ladies from our church at a retreat. It was very relaxing, full of wonderful teaching and as predicted...emotional. I had quite a bit of mental distraction going on so I am not sure that I fully inhaled what was presented. Maybe just a whiff here and there. But, in the midst of it all, I asked my friend, Beth, who I met when we were both pregnant with our second children, nearly 8 years ago if I would be considered a "crier," you know, emotional. Her emphatic answer, "NO! But, you should be."
I concluded that because it seems I cannot walk around these days without a tissue, I am in fact, going through "something." This is not the first something, but a cycle that seems to have started when she was still alive and has become more frequent since her passing.
Another conclusion I have drawn is that I am beyond being able to get this under control using only my abilities. Challenging my independent self to the core. This is extraordinarily painful to admit. I hate myself for all the times I looked at someone "emotional" and thought why can't they just pull it together? Just, "suck it up." Wow. Get a load of that mercy. Think there is an award out there for the most merciless person on the planet. Some things are truly out of one person's control.
Plans are in place to help me, aid and assist me in this journey and for once, I welcome them with arms wide open.
Monday, February 09, 2009
A February Conversation
Pushing Lily on the swing at the playground. The air is tepid, not too warm. The weather tempting and teasing us as leaves are not yet on the trees. Buds have not yet even formed on the branches – still barren and harsh, jagged. Exposed. Her hair in two pigtails, tied up in white bands. The fine wisps of hair framing her face, floating like feathers in the breeze…dancing in rhythm with the movement of the swing. Back and forth. In and out.
Lily talks and sings. Her made up little melody sweet and discordant. I don’t care. It is joyful to me.
She asks: Mommy, when I grow up, I marry Keegan?
Me: Well, why do you want to marry him?
Innocently, she answers, "Because he is nice to me. And, he lets me play pirates with him on the playground. Can I marry him?
Me: Lily, you have to be a grown-up to get married.
Lily: Some in my class are 5. I am not 5.
Me: That’s right, but you will be 5 soon enough.
Lily: Why does it take so long to grow-up?
Me: It will be here soon enough. Being little is great, Lily." I wanted to add, it is easy and simple, but she will know that herself soon enough.
Lily: I want to be a grown-up.
Me: Why?
Lily Because you are a grown up, Mommy. And, I love you.
If only life stayed so sweet and innocent.
Lily talks and sings. Her made up little melody sweet and discordant. I don’t care. It is joyful to me.
She asks: Mommy, when I grow up, I marry Keegan?
Me: Well, why do you want to marry him?
Innocently, she answers, "Because he is nice to me. And, he lets me play pirates with him on the playground. Can I marry him?
Me: Lily, you have to be a grown-up to get married.
Lily: Some in my class are 5. I am not 5.
Me: That’s right, but you will be 5 soon enough.
Lily: Why does it take so long to grow-up?
Me: It will be here soon enough. Being little is great, Lily." I wanted to add, it is easy and simple, but she will know that herself soon enough.
Lily: I want to be a grown-up.
Me: Why?
Lily Because you are a grown up, Mommy. And, I love you.
If only life stayed so sweet and innocent.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Scraping and clawing at the dirt
She cultivates life's needs
Fingers nimbly work and are
dirty and moist.
Roots and twigs entangle
Jagged rocks cut and bruise
Black, thick mud fills
the time worn wrinkles of her hands.
She sits exhausted and consumed
The work more than she planned
Sweat beads on her brow
She sits back on her soiled knees.
Her face raises to the sun
Its warmth fills her
Her eyes close in response
the heat pouring over her face and body.
She leans back
arching her neck
She is satisfied.
She feels the coolness of the earth
between her toes and her eyes open
the work is always before her
Her hands dig deep, toiling once again.
She cultivates life's needs
Fingers nimbly work and are
dirty and moist.
Roots and twigs entangle
Jagged rocks cut and bruise
Black, thick mud fills
the time worn wrinkles of her hands.
She sits exhausted and consumed
The work more than she planned
Sweat beads on her brow
She sits back on her soiled knees.
Her face raises to the sun
Its warmth fills her
Her eyes close in response
the heat pouring over her face and body.
She leans back
arching her neck
She is satisfied.
She feels the coolness of the earth
between her toes and her eyes open
the work is always before her
Her hands dig deep, toiling once again.
Friday, February 06, 2009
I'm Leaving On a Jet Plane
Ok, so not really. I am not leaving on a "jet plane," but I am leaving in Jay's Suburban for a women's retreat in Myrtle Beach this weekend. I am looking forward to lots of cackling and clucking as the hen party commences.
I remember the first time I had a weekend away after having been a stay at home mom for a couple of years. It was to the Celo Inn for a weekend of scrapbooking with my sister and dear friends Robin, Amy and Amanda. I was the last one to be picked-up because I was "on the way." When the car pulled into the driveway I ran out the door and seriously squealed and screamed. I was that thrilled, overwhelmed and over the moon to have a break from the daily grind. But that was many years ago and now that children are older, I don't seem to want that whole weekend away any more. Just a day or two. I miss them.
And here is one reason why:
This week, Ethan was chosen to have a list of compliments made about him by his class. And, here they are - note the theme:
Ethan is very funny.
Ethan eats everything.
Ethan is very funny and crazy.
Ethan is very crazy and cool.
Ethan is really funny.
Ethan is fun and funny.
Ethan is very funny, talkative, and smart.
Ethan is very funny.
Ethan is super funny.
Ethan is smart
Ethan is a very good friend.
Ethan is very funny.
Ethan is very, very, very funny.
I will save this list so that when he is having a bad day, he can read it and know that in 3rd grade being funny is probably one of the best character traits as defined by his peers.
I know I have written a bit about my ridiculous infatuation with Rock Band drumming. But, part of that craziness is that I play it with Ethan. It is "our thing." Our band, Weesnog, was aptly picked from a Sponge Bob reference. When we are on, baby, we rock. We have these discussions about the level of difficulty, our ability to play, even pains we incur from playing our instruments. And when we get that last power play and in unison, bang that last note...it is all high fives, smiles and "Yeahs!"
Older children are fun. And as the above referenced song continues, "Oh babe, I hate to go."
I remember the first time I had a weekend away after having been a stay at home mom for a couple of years. It was to the Celo Inn for a weekend of scrapbooking with my sister and dear friends Robin, Amy and Amanda. I was the last one to be picked-up because I was "on the way." When the car pulled into the driveway I ran out the door and seriously squealed and screamed. I was that thrilled, overwhelmed and over the moon to have a break from the daily grind. But that was many years ago and now that children are older, I don't seem to want that whole weekend away any more. Just a day or two. I miss them.
And here is one reason why:
This week, Ethan was chosen to have a list of compliments made about him by his class. And, here they are - note the theme:
Ethan is very funny.
Ethan eats everything.
Ethan is very funny and crazy.
Ethan is very crazy and cool.
Ethan is really funny.
Ethan is fun and funny.
Ethan is very funny, talkative, and smart.
Ethan is very funny.
Ethan is super funny.
Ethan is smart
Ethan is a very good friend.
Ethan is very funny.
Ethan is very, very, very funny.
I will save this list so that when he is having a bad day, he can read it and know that in 3rd grade being funny is probably one of the best character traits as defined by his peers.
I know I have written a bit about my ridiculous infatuation with Rock Band drumming. But, part of that craziness is that I play it with Ethan. It is "our thing." Our band, Weesnog, was aptly picked from a Sponge Bob reference. When we are on, baby, we rock. We have these discussions about the level of difficulty, our ability to play, even pains we incur from playing our instruments. And when we get that last power play and in unison, bang that last note...it is all high fives, smiles and "Yeahs!"
Older children are fun. And as the above referenced song continues, "Oh babe, I hate to go."
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Funny
Ethan came to me this afternoon and asked, "Hey Mom, is this butter? "Cause it says it's not butter." I turned to look at what he was holding. It was the container of "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" butter. What do you say to that one?
A 7 year-old Teenager
Could it be? Dare I say? Should I put a stop to this NOW?
Sadie came bursting through the front door this afternoon announcing that she had to call her friend, M, because M has something she,"just HAD to tell her." With that declaration, she threw open her monogrammed messenger bag, grabbed a piece of paper contained within and thrust it to me. I couldn't make out what was on the paper and said, "What is this?" Sadie replied, "M's phone number," and bounded away to get the phone.
I just realized, seriously just realized, that she got the phone, turned it on and dialed her friend without any assistance from me. How worried should I be? Well, it is a good thing, right? I mean, if there is some sort of 911 emergency, right?
Before she made her phone call she started to go up the stairs to make her call, "in her room." At least I had the sense to stop her and stated emphatically that she was not old enough to have "private" phone calls. Anything she needed to say, she could say right here, with me, on the sofa.
As I type, listening to this phone call, I am giggling. It is ALL about dogs.
"I was at WalMart and they had the cutest dog stickers."
"Oh, M, they have these scented chew bones."
"She [Dixie, our puppy] is sitting here with me."
"That's nice."
"Did you know what I can hear right now? Theodore(the squirrel)in his cage."
Editor's note: So, not everything is about dogs, but pets in general.
"How does it work? How does that vacuum suck everything up?"
Editor's note: Ok, that one did me in - is my 7 year-old really talking about vacuums???? Funny.
She just hung up the phone and said, "Well, that was a nice phone conversation."
She galloped away to the kitchen for a snack.
Looks like a new room has just been added to the ol' parenting domain. Can someone help this mom with some rules of phone etiquette and management that I might employ with my children? And, is she going to hate me later in life that I have documented this first-time phone call?
Sadie came bursting through the front door this afternoon announcing that she had to call her friend, M, because M has something she,"just HAD to tell her." With that declaration, she threw open her monogrammed messenger bag, grabbed a piece of paper contained within and thrust it to me. I couldn't make out what was on the paper and said, "What is this?" Sadie replied, "M's phone number," and bounded away to get the phone.
I just realized, seriously just realized, that she got the phone, turned it on and dialed her friend without any assistance from me. How worried should I be? Well, it is a good thing, right? I mean, if there is some sort of 911 emergency, right?
Before she made her phone call she started to go up the stairs to make her call, "in her room." At least I had the sense to stop her and stated emphatically that she was not old enough to have "private" phone calls. Anything she needed to say, she could say right here, with me, on the sofa.
As I type, listening to this phone call, I am giggling. It is ALL about dogs.
"I was at WalMart and they had the cutest dog stickers."
"Oh, M, they have these scented chew bones."
"She [Dixie, our puppy] is sitting here with me."
"That's nice."
"Did you know what I can hear right now? Theodore(the squirrel)in his cage."
Editor's note: So, not everything is about dogs, but pets in general.
"How does it work? How does that vacuum suck everything up?"
Editor's note: Ok, that one did me in - is my 7 year-old really talking about vacuums???? Funny.
She just hung up the phone and said, "Well, that was a nice phone conversation."
She galloped away to the kitchen for a snack.
Looks like a new room has just been added to the ol' parenting domain. Can someone help this mom with some rules of phone etiquette and management that I might employ with my children? And, is she going to hate me later in life that I have documented this first-time phone call?
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