Thankfulness day... um... whatever...

So I missed a couple of days.

Not that I wasn't thankful during those days, I was, very, but sitting down to write about it seemed to be a bit more than I could manage!

This was an entirely different thanksgiving for me.  I was feeling sort of sad and bitter about it (and lets face it, having a pity party) but it actually turned out to be a lovely day.  Turns out that eating at a restaurant for the main meal is kind of yummy, and there's no dishes!

I had my 17 yr old son and my 17 month old son with me and it was fun and peaceful and easy and I would totally do it again.  Later that day we moved furniture around just for fun and then went to some friends for dessert.  I missed my girls terribly, and I missed all the thanksgivings of my past which were full of family, friends, fun, and me hosting the huge gatherings, but I was able to fully embrace my time with my boys and feel thankful.

And now I'm looking forward to Christmas.  Ah, the music, the decorations, the presents! Fun fun fun!  This year will be the first year my baby is able to grasp any of it and I look forward to his amazement and wonder at the colors and lights.

Wishing you all a holiday of amazement and wonder as well!

Thankfulness day 27

Today I am thankful for choices.  I'm not always good at seeing ALL the choices I have but I'm getting better at it. Being open to seeing all the different options and choices available make such a profound difference in ones ability to accept responsibility, take control, and make positive changes.  It's a hard lesson, and takes some time to really learn, but I'm getting there.  And I'm thankful...

Thankfulness day 26

I'm thankful today, already...  Thankful for heat... I'm thankful that, while I shut it off at night and it's darn cold for the 4am potty dash, I can crank the heat on at that time and when I finally emerge from my snuggly bed at 5:30 to start nudging kids awake, it's warm and not so horrible to have to be awake and moving.

Not everyone has heat.  Not everyone can turn theirs on whenever they want to. Not every small toddler can be warm and safe all day. Not every momma can have warm toes.  I'm thankful.  Soooo thankful.

Thankfulness day 25

I'm thankful for grief.
If I didn't feel grief, it would mean nothing had touched me so deeply, with such love, or that I had never experienced such love and joy that it's loss would leave me...well, full of grief in that love's absence.

My father passed away unexpectedly last year at this time.  While I did not have the relationship with him that I wished I did, and though there are others who were closer and more connected with him, I miss him.  I miss knowing that my dad is there, even though he lived 3000 miles away and I hadn't really seen him in years, I knew he was "there".  And now he is not.

I'm thankful for the feelings of loss and grief, for the tears and the sadness.  It reminds me that I am indeed connected to others, that I have had relationships worth mourning, that my heart is alive and capable.  I can only have this grief and sadness, because I have had it's counterpart - joy, love, connection.

I miss you dad.

Thankfulness day 24

I'm thankful for getting home safely last night, that my sideways slide downhill ended safely and in a forward facing position on the correct side of the road. I'm thankful I was alone in the car just in case it hadn't ended so well. I'm thankful for all wheel drive, new brakes, and for the sand trucks out this morning!

Thankfulness day 23

I'm thankful for Llama Llama Red Pajama, pomegranates, pork roast, snuggles with my daughter and old episodes of Greys Anatomy... And for you.

Thankfulness day 22

Vanilla ice cream.

Hot fudge.

Caramel.

Whipped cream.

Sprinkles.

One spoon.

Perfection.

Thankfulness day 21

Today I am thankful for grace.
The kind of grace that allows one to completely miss the bottom step on the way down, and fall flat on one's face, in front of a policeman and three burly tree cropping crewman, and still get up and walk away, head high.
The kind of grace that smiles and waves, all the while cursing inside in very big words.
The kind of grace that, with bleeding knees and swelling ankle, get into ones car and moves it from danger of the tree cropping crew, while they watch, then walks back UP said stairs, still smiling, and while still being watched, and makes it inside without further "dis"grace.
The kind of grace that allows one to, later on,  laugh their fool head off over what one small, slightly roundish, gray haired woman must have looked like, in her pj bottoms and stripey socks, going ass-over-teakettle down the concrete steps onto the gravel road.

Oh I do love me some grace!

And I'm also thankful that bloody knees and a slightly puffy ankle are the worst of it.  There was a pile of broken ceramic I landed in and suffered no damage from; nor did I break anything critical, tear anything crucial, or bleed from any other spot.  Lucky me!

Thankfulness day 20

Today I'm thankful for the people in my life who love my children as much as I do.  I'm thankful for the teenagers who love my tiniest one, for friends who rejoice with me when my children succeed and those who worry with me when that is what's called for.  I'm thankful for friends who care for my kids, drive them places, and pray for them.  I couldn't be more blessed.

Thankfulness day 19

I'm still riding the high of the job offer. My start date is a few weeks away still and while the job isn't exactly the job I want, the hours I want, or the location I want, I'm thankful I'm mature enough to accept that it's a good job and a paycheck and it's a stepping stone. 

So today I'm still thankful for the offer, but thankful too for the wisdom to accept the job.

Thankfulness day 18

Today? Today I'm thankful for a real live official job offer.

Thankfulness day 16 and 17

I'm thankful this weekend for time... Time to go to the park and the library, time to pick my son up after work, on time... I'm thankful for the time to cook a multi step meal, homemade waffles, and mix up faux mimosas.  I'm thankful for the time to sit, to watch a movie, to read a book, to read endless repetitions of Llama Llama Red Pajama, time for snuggling an rocking my toddler, time for stretching out on my older sons bed and companionably watching him play video games. I'm so thankful for time...

Thankfulness day 15

Today I was thankful to be able to help out someone else.  I had the absolute pure joy of being able to step outside of myself and my own "needs", to see that I am capable yet of giving... and that giving is so sweet.

Thankfulness day 14

I am thankful today for health insurance and easy access to health care.  Its something I don't often think about, but when I have a sick baby and a worried heart, it's so reassuring to just pick up the phone and call and make an appointment.  I'm thankful I have insurance, that it's a $20 copay which I have available in my bank account and that it's a quick and easy thing for me to do.

I'm thankful that taking my child to the doctor does not mean a $180 emergency clinic visit (been there, done that, still paying the bill).  I'm thankful that I don't have to weigh out the lost time/pay at work with exactly how sick I think my child is - thankful that I can just decide he is sick and take him in.  I'm thankful that I don't have to weigh out the cost of medication (another $8-10 copay) against gas money, or grocery money, or  an electric bill disconnect notice.  I've been there too... so I really am, truly, thankful.

I'm not floating in money here, and not without concern for every dollar that is mine to spend, and I do weigh and measure expenses and place value on them.  But today? Today my child's illness is not something I have to weigh out, measure, assign value to, and worry to bits over.  Today I can take my child to the doctor, get the prescription, and still have money for my gas tank, my bills (well, most of them!) and food for our table.

Today is a day for being thankful.  And honestly, today is all I can handle!

Thankfulness day 13

On this 20 degree morning, I'm thankful for a warm jacket, a fleece suit for my baby, a car with a working heater, fleece lined tights, hot coffee, the open arms of friends who babysit, the opportunity for continued education, and so much more. Soooo much more... 

Thankfulness day 12

This day has barely started and already I'm thankful.  I'm thankful for the opportunity for potential employment, for a chance, for hope.  I'm thankful for the joy of a quiet day with kids who love to curl up and read the day away. I'm grateful for an evening ahead planned with friends, dinner in the oven already, and the taste of hot chocolate still on my tongue.

Thankfulness day 11

I'm so thankful for the bags of hand-me-downs that filled my baby's drawers full of warm, soft clothes that fit and will last us all winter and spring. I'm thankful for the generosity of other Mommas, for the community o parenting, and for grace.

Thankfulness day 10

I am so thankful for my friends, those true ones who see me at my ugliest and my most bare, and who love me anyway. Calling a friend and saying out loud, "I'm sad, I need help, I'm afraid, I'm lonely" and knowing she will respond with love and honesty is a priceless gift. I have only a few; I'm not one of those social butterflies who collect friends at every turn, but the few I have are ones I trust enough to call and say, "I'm broken..." Without fear of judgement. I'm blessed by my friends...

Thankfulness day 9

Today I am thankful for laughter, for children who mix up words like "masticate" and "masturbate", for open conversation and authenticity and love. 

Thankfulness day 8

I am thankful today for second chances, and for those hearts that are big enough to offer them.

Thankfulness day 7

Today I am thankful for absolute joy of my children. They are, all of them, my favorite people in the world.  Their humor, insight, purity, authenticity, and energy lights up my every day. In my darkest moments (and lately I've had a few too many dark moments) my children are my salvation.  I am so blessed.

Thankfulness day 6

Today I am mostly just thankful that the day is over. It had its positive moments, it beauty and it's joy, but so much pain and strife that ran through it all. So I am thankful that I could come home today, put on my comfy pants, and let the tears fall while I was safe and sheltered. Now I can crawl into a soft clean bed and sleep. Tomorrow is another day... And I'm thankful for that too.

Thankfulness day 5

Today I am especially grateful for the simple joy of peace - for the moment when no one needs anything from me and all my "to-do"'s are done and I can sink into the weightlessness of just "being". It's a rare gift and I am grateful to be given that on this day. I embrace each second of it and sit in the stillness with confidence. 

Thankfulness day 4

Today I am thankful for so much. In the face of adversity I was given encouragement, support, and a shot of self confidence.  I had the joy of bonding with two incredible teens. I made a baby laugh. And I ended the day with Nutella and wine! What a day...!!

Thankful in November, day 1,2,3...

I'm a couple days behind, but I just found out about the idea of posting something you are grateful for every single day.  So here is day 1, 2, and 3...

Friday November 1. I'm so thankful to have friends that make me feel included, accepted, and wanted.

Saturday November 2. I'm thankful today for the ability to play outside with my son, for a body that can run and laugh and play and keep up with his energy.

Sunday November 3. I'm thankful today for someone who fixed my car for me, thankful that I can drive safely, and even thankful simply for a car at all. I am lucky.

A little prayer

He doesn't understand at first.
He doesn't like wearing the crown that goes with his costume.  He doesn't want the hood up, hates the feel of  the sleeves with their built in claws dangling round his tiny wrists, and doesn't want to hold the plastic pumpkin candy bucket.
I roll up the sleeves, leave the hood dangling down his back, and at the very last minute I pop his crown on his head and distract him by showing him how to knock on the door.  The plastic candy bucket sits on the ground between his feet.
He slaps the door with his little starfish hand and looks up, up, up.  It must seem impossibly large to him.  He is so small.  So dear.  So vulnerable and sweet.  My heart cracks a little with all the love I have for this tiny little moppet of mine.

The door opens.  From my position, crouched down beside my son, I chorus the standard "Trick or Treat" with high pitched enthusiasm, trying to get him  to chime in somehow, showing him what to do, modeling the right behavior.  Things I will continue to do for years to come.  I smile encouragingly, wrap his fingers around the bucket handle and help him hold it out for the miracle of free candy.  His eyes get big as the candy drops into his bucket.  He doesn't even know what candy is, but the novelty of being given something is apparently mind boggling and he stares open mouthed and big eyed into the depths of his once empty bucket.  "ohhhh" he says.  "uh-oh!" The only words he knows, and they actually seem applicable.

I help him wave and lift him down the stairs which are too tall for his little little legs.  At the bottom of the stairs he once again gapes into his candy bucket.  He puts it on the ground and looks up at me, puzzled.  I scoop him up and kiss that sweet spot between his cheek and neck, the spot that smells like graham crackers and "baby".  "That's candy! It's your treat! Wanna do more? More houses? More candy?"  He says, "yeah" like he always does when I ask him anything.  He hasn't learned "No" yet, thank goodness, and his little whispered "yeah" is sweet and funny all at once.

After the third house, it's like a light bulb goes off in his mind and the whole entire night is illuminated with understanding.  Go to door, get stuff, wave.  Next house!  Go to door, get stuff, wave.  Next house!  He runs on his tiny little legs, zigzagging and weaving, waving at any other kids he sees, he chatters nonstop in a language of his own, so full of merriment and joy.  He has no clue that the candy is for eating.  One house gives little bags of pretzels and I open it for him and let him munch on them.  He is happy now to carry his little candy bucket and he is so full of joy that it spills out of him and lights the whole night.  We walk together in our own little bubble of joy and light and I am so grateful for this moment with him.

He is so small, my little moppet.  Such a nugget of a baby... after awhile I carry him and it isn't long before he decides that he is done.  When I put him down to knock on a door, he cries.  I pop him into the stroller and give him more pretzels and we walk quiet and smoothly now back to the car.  The leaves in the trees are rustling music for us and on the drive home he falls asleep. He is peaceful and, therefore, so am I.

I think a little prayer as I lay him in his crib and listen to his soft even breathing: God, please let us have years and years of  Trick or Treating together... Amen.

Lonely

Being alone

Is different

Than being lonely

Tonight

I'm lonely

But not alone

The difference is 

Within

But also

Without

Unbalanced balance

Teetering

On edge

Of saying out loud

Unspoken truth

Of loneliness and aloneness 

Tonight the loneliness

Screams

Can you hear me?

Begin again

and so we begin again
dancing around the sharp pieces
of fallen stars
in bare feet -
because wearing shoes is too easy
and people like us?
we do things the hard way
over and over again
starting
stopping
and then we begin again

I dance -
the jagged self conscious movements
of someone who does not know what dancing is
step here, hands there, awkward, stiff, wrong...

you dance along -
your shadow over all the shattered stars so I don't see them -
trying to mimic me
because you can't stand to be looked at
singly
alone
in your own light
but your movements are out of rhythm
off beat
a step behind here, a step ahead there,
a left instead of a right, and what we create is ugliness.

and so we stop
and breathe heavily
tired
so tired
and stare at each other with eyes swollen by feelings we can't let go of.

and then we begin again
dancing around all the shattered pieces of this mess we've made
by ourselves
no one else to blame
and neither of us able to finish the hard work of cleaning up -

I pick up some bits and flotsam of brokenness
and you scoot some under the rug
I try to carry the largest bits, but I drop them with bloody hands,
you point
you laugh
you kick some of the brokenness toward me
shaking your head
and walking away
walking away
walking away

and I begin to dance again
in the middle of shattered bits of fallen stars
and find they sparkle a little still
without your shadow

Who You Are: A Message To All Women

Stuck

Stuck
like glue, in a fix, in the middle

Mired
deeply, thickly, immovably

Bogged down
dragged down, weighted, burdened

Held
pushed, shoved, blocked

Stayed
halted, delayed, diverted

Trapped
boxed in, jailed, removed

Caught
grabbed, tethered, tied

words that describe my life...

when will I be free'd?

Hurting

What If

What if he said, "I'm sorry".
What if he really, really, meant it.
What if he asked me, "Please, could you ever forgive me?"
What if he understood when I said I couldn't.
What if he said he would spend the rest of forever trying to earn it anyway...
What if he said, "I was so wrong..."
What if he meant it, really really meant it.
What if he told me all the ways he was part of the breaking and destruction... and what if he owned all the things that broke MY heart?

What if he saw the light, the revelation, the truth, the whole entire messy scary thorny disgusting shameful horrible "thing" that was...and was real and authentic, finally?

Would any of it change who I have become?
Would I suddenly be different?
Would I be less angry?
Less scared?
Less worried and tense?
Less full of bitterness and sorrow and regret?
Would I lose the grief I've shouldered every day for more than four years?
Would I be less sure of myself? Less aware of my own heart? Less focused on my children, my soul, my future?
What would happen to my sweet sweet treasure that I was gifted with, the big brown eyes that melt me, the tiny face that spins my heart and soul...my littlest angel who isn't mine alone?

What if suddenly he took all the "I'm sorry"'s that I've given, all the "forgive me"'s that I've sobbed, all the "I was wrong to do this, and that, and say those things" that I've written and said and meant - and he finally believed me, and accepted it.

What if nothing... what if "just this" is "just this" for the rest of forever...

What if this is ok?
What if me, being strong, is better than what was?
What if me, being wiser, is better than what was?
What if my sweet treasure, my littlest angel, could only "be" because of all that came before?
What if all of us, being more mature and with wide open eyes, are stronger and safer and better off than before?
What if what we all have learned leads to something bigger, braver, deeper, truer, and more real than what used to be?

What if, yes, what if this is ok?

Someday

Is it silly to weep over this? To wonder if I missed my chance? To dream of finding some connection like this, even now?

But I'm not unhappy alone...  I'm not. I don't want to be tied down, to compromise, make room for and be flexible with... I don't want to share my space, my kids, my life... But still, it's human nature to want love, connection, to want to find that perfect soul mate who just "gets" you without trying.  Or maybe it's just MY nature to want that.

This Jess Penner song is the theme to the wedding video of a friend of mine who married for the second time at age 40.  She is crazy cornball goofy in love with a man who is crazy cornball goofy in love with her. They were together long enough to maturely decide that this marriage thing was exactly right for them. They are smart, intelligent, thoughtful people.  But also total goofy cornballs.  Their life is by no means easy - a blended family with teens, jobs, sports, their own individual jobs and extra curricular activities... but there is such respect and support for each other, such joyful accommodation of each others whims, such genuine interest in each other, that it stings a little, this emptiness of mine.

I wish them so much joy.  I know they deserve it.  Can I wish joy for myself as well?

Prompt: Does Art Have Power to Cause Change OR Is It Just Pretty To Look At

prompt from English I
9/16/13

Does Art Have Power to Cause Change:

This past weekend, in some random unmemorable way, the topic of orgasms came up while myself and my two teens were hanging out.

My 17 yo son said, "mom, I really don't think we should discuss this in front of Bear!" and I replied, "Buddy, she is almost 16, I'm pretty certain she knows what an orgasm is!"

Well, much conversation ensued in which I discovered that my almost 16 year old daughter does not, indeed, know what an orgasm is and based on my 17 year olds description, when told he could explain, I'm not so sure that even HE knows what one is.  I did not elaborate however, and as is common, other topics came up and orgasms were soon forgotten.

Stay with me... this will relate to art...

Moments later while my son was going on and on and describing the absolute deliciousness of his smoothie, my daughter innocently asked him, "Does it give you hot 'organisms'?"  Lord, I admit, I pee'd my pants a little I laughed so hard. They laughed and I laughed and we all laughed til our sides ached and we were gasping for breath and weak with our own love for each other.

This? This is art: the creation of funny, innocent, smart, creative and joyful kids.  This is art: the love and laughter in a broken family.  This is art: the power of joy and kindness and humor and love, and yes - it CAN change the world.

Furry Happy Monsters

Late Night Phone Call

She calls when I am just 15 minutes into the show.  It used to be our show.  We would wait all week for Thursday nights, planning for it with excited giggles and imagined events.  When Thursday finally arrived, you would find us gathering snacks and blankets and fluffing up pillows, and then we would take over the couch and the remote control.  I love that she calls right at the moment I have queued up an old rerun of our old show.  It’s karmic. I hope.

I hit pause and answer the phone to hear her wild burst of laughter.  Laughter or hysterical crying? I’m not sure until I hear her voice saying, “Hi mom!”  My brief moment of concern is washed away and replaced by joy.

She tells me that her friends were all just laughing at something funny, reminiscing about their first words as babies.  A topic brought up by my face-book post of her baby brothers first word spoken just that day.  What was her first word? Oh, a four letter word referencing bowel elimination.  Yup.  That sent her off into more giggles and I could hear her friends in the background laughing along with her. They are not surprised, it is apparently still her word of choice, I hear them saying in the background.

It is good to laugh with her.  It is good to be on the phone with her, laughing.  She is my delight but things have been strained lately.  My life and choices, her life and choices, are  all at odds with each other and it’s been hard to find the closeness, the love, the fun, the groove of our hearts beating together as they once did.

We chat some and I avoid anything too tense.  I've written her a letter and she hasn't received it yet so I’ll save the tense stuff for later, tonight I want to just enjoy the laughter.

When we hang up, I start up the show again.  It’s lonelier now, watching this show without her here.  My bowl of snacks and my icy beverage aren't as good, un-shared as they are.  The show isn't as suspenseful without the whispered premonitions and our running commentary.  The theme song at the end makes me weepy and melodramatic.  I laugh at myself a little, do the dishes, and tuck myself into bed.  My daughter, 3000 miles and two time zones away from me is just getting into the groove of her night.  All is as it should be I suppose.   

My Only Hope

A Day Off

Cut yourself some slack, they say.
Give yourself a break, they say.

So today I had cake for breakfast.

And I made the baby laugh so hard that he fell down right on his padded little bottom. And then I laughed right along with him, both of us laying on the floor giggling to each other.  There is incredible peace when you look deep in the eyes of a laughing baby.  I think I saw a glimpse of God.

For the first time ever, I "smudged" my house.

And myself.

I breathed in the smoky trails of sage and thought about peace, and safety, and protection.  I breathed out that peace too.  I wafted the sweet smoke over the living room where we gather to play, onto the dishes we eat from, over my son's bed where he sleeps and grows and dreams, and all around the door so that peace will wash over those who enter, and those who leave.  I gave myself a break.

And I cut myself some slack, refusing to feel guilty for still being in my pajamas at lunchtime.

But I also got some clutter cleared.  Papers filed, phone calls made, appointments set.  And it felt... peaceful.

For this moment, I refuse to feel pain.  I will not acknowledge sorrow, frustration, loss, grief, anger, or self loathing for this moment in time.  Maybe it will be just one moment, maybe a whole hour.  Maybe I can get the whole day in... but I won't worry about that right now.

For now, I will just focus on these single moments of laughing into my baby's eyes, breathing in smoky sage, the taste of frosting on my tongue, and the feeling of power in taking a day off from everything else.

Surfing the Waves

Lately life has felt like I'm a wee bit of driftwood caught up in some never ending storm.

I know there is solid ground out there.
I know there is blue sky hidden by the black clouds.
I know that calm waters are just outside the next rolling wave.
But I'm getting weary, and more than a little seasick.

I can't really remember where I came from, where I was, all warm and basking in the sun on a beach, when the storm snuck up and swept me away.  I don't know where I'm going to end up when this storm is over either.  Some other beach? A deserted island? or just adrift, forever, in this vast ocean?

Forgetting the metaphor and just being frank (who wouldn't want to be Frank? ba da dum!) I was feeling a bit like I was getting my life together.  I was moving forward, onward, facing fears and being brave and stepping out in faith to reclaim my life.  I made big changes and while things weren't perfect, I was feeling a sense of confidence and hope and optimism.  I felt peace. And then, not.

Well of course that's the problem isn't it? Once you are feeling grounded, something swirly happens to unbalance you and it's all about seeing HOW you  manage the swirly bits.  That's what character is right? What you do when the shit hits the fan; how you behave when no one is looking; the ways you manage when you fall in hot water... my character is seriously lacking!

A friend of mine has this huge network of support.  Friends, family, co-workers.  When times are tough there are backyard barbecue's, fire pit marshmallow roasts, childcare offers, supportive emails and phone calls, heck, even neighbors drop in.  I guess you reap what you sow - and I guess I haven't sown much.  That's pretty pathetic really, and another sign of my character (or lack thereof).  Not to say I don't have friends because, I do. Really.  Real ones!  One's that offer tea and wine and silly text messages to cheer me up.  Friends who shout "Yay!" and "You Go Girl!".  Friends who are only an email or text message away.  I know I'm lucky, fortunate, and blessed but I can't help but feel that I should have sown more, given more, reached out more.  Ok, it's entirely possible that I'm wallowing in self pity right now... possible, even likely... ok so more than likely, let's just call it out - I am wallowing in Self-Pity.  It's unattractive, I know... I'll stop now.

When my kids whine or have pity parties, I get annoyed. I tell them to quit.  I redirect them.  I think I'll have to do a little tough love on myself!  I think I'll have to take a deeper breath, recenter myself, and hold onto my surfboard for a bit more wave-surfing in this storm.  I know it will end, storms always do... so it's just about holding on a little longer.  I can.  I know I can.  I bet I'll come out of this a pretty darn good surfer!

So, here's to sunshine behind clouds, solid ground under the waves, blue sky above me, and better surfing skills... Cheers!

Looking for an Angel

Self Loathing

*again, for Lee...this is the revelation/enlightenment I spoke of

I allow
my words
to be stifled

I allow
my feelings
to be shut off

I allow
my heart
to be silent

I allow
my words
to be lies

I lie

I do not live
whole
alive

I do not live in love
with love
for love
I do not live in peace
with peace
for peace

I live in fear and I hate my own weakness
my own humanity
even as I understand it
and justify it
and know there is change ahead
I hate me for THIS moment now
for allowing myself
to be victimized
prostituted
captive
out of fear
hate hate hate hate
hate hate
hate

Escape

I run
I escape
I slide and slither and wiggle and writhe
away

I choose now to sit stiffly
in the chair
instead of cozily on the couch
because that way you can't sit next to me
and touch me

I go to bed early
and earlier
and earlier
to escape my way
into sleep
and avoid you

I arise
earlier
and earlier

to hide

to be "busy"

I get up and wash dishes
just to get up
away
out of arms reach

I try to have something in my hands
all the time now
or occupy my whole self
with a task
so I am too busy to stop
and be mauled
by you

I grimace
and clench my teeth
when you hug me

I know because
someone told me so
pointed it out
and asked what was wrong
I try to control my face
but it shows my heart

How do you continue
to ignore
my eye rolls
clenched jaw
turned away face
my crossed arms
my sudden leaping up
and away
my turning over
my avoidance
How is it not killing you?

It's killing me

Simmering

*for Lee because he asked...


resentment bubbles
low and slow
steaming
vapors wafting
on winds of change
I smile...

anger bites
bitter stings of
pinching needle teeth
waiting for the flinch
I shrug my shoulders...

bitterness coils
ugly
and sour
green pus
infects every breath
I hold in the sigh and pat your shoulder...

revulsion crawls
along vertebrae
whispering
whimpers of
shuddery loathing
I clench my teeth and say I'm tired...again...

I cry without tears
I scream without voice

Fraudulent
Phony
Fake
Inauthentic
Untrue
Unwhole
composed of bits of lies I tell you
to survive each day I live
I hate my lies
I hate myself for every word I never speak
and for the weakness of my own soul
for my own hypocrisy

don't look at me...

Weather Proof

I weathered my first week of going back to school.  I got through the first week of Medical Terminology and learning a bazillion prefixes and suffixes and root words.  I wrote an essay, and took a test also. I wore scrubs.  I packed my own lunch. I did my homework.

I weathered an ER trip with my baby which was prefaced by a fall and an obscene amount of blood and incorporated my downstairs neighbors (whom I do not know at all - they come and go in the middle of the night...very creepy) driving me and my screaming bleeding baby to the ER in MY car.

And then weathered a pediatrician visit and a pediatric dentist visit with a baby who did NOT want anyone touching his mouth...but for whom "mouth touching" was a necessity.  Poor boo...

I weathered "THE TALK" with my 17 year old son... oh we've had 'the talk' before but this was about "THE TALK"...as in, "it's going to happen so what do I need to know..."  At least he asked.... ya know?

I weathered some post divorce backlash that left me humiliated, shaking, and demoralized but only very briefly.  I regrouped and remembered who I am, what I'm doing, and what I'm actually worth (and how none of that is dependant on my ex's opinions, or anyone elses for that matter...)  I am reading a book on shame by author Brene Brown.

A friend is weathering a huge personal commitment involving 3 days, camping, and mountains to hike as a fundraiser for battered women.  I'm thinking of thinking about thinking of doing it with her maybe next year...

It's been stormy this week.  But the skies are clearing and I'm none the worse for the weather... I'm feeling calm, strong, and firmly rooted.

Now I'll have a cup of tea, some toast, and take a minute to enjoy the calm.

A New Day

Yesterday I met my goal.

I think I shall repeat it today, but also add this:

trust only in truth, not in emotion

This will be a harder day.

Today

Today my goal is simple, yet so very challenging all at once.

Today my goal is this:

Breathe
Remain unattached
Disengage
Do not be baited

Wish me luck.

PSA

I open my eyes and see him standing in my bedroom doorway.  He is backlit from the bathroom light so all I really see is his form, all lanky 6 feet of him, shadowed in my doorway.  I've been waiting all night for him to show up.

The instant my eyes blink open I hear him say, "mom, it's time..." I hear the wavery unsure tone in his voice and somehow I am at the doorway, one hand to his forehead before I know any time has passed at all.

In a weird photo-flicker time lapse rapid fire trick of time, my 17 yr old 6 foot tall son collapses in my arms.  First his head rolls back on his neck, but simultaneously his eyes roll up so I only see the whites, and then his body just melts - rubberizes - and sinks toward the floor.

I am under him, on his side, then around him, trying to hold him, then over him as he is sprawled out on the floor - and I see his jaw shudder, his eyes twitch, his hands flail and I am seeing not just my son passing out, but convulsing.

I am yelling at my partner to help, the baby wakes and is screaming, and I am calling to my son to wake up wake up wake up buddy please wake up.  And he does.  He opens his eyes, he licks his lips, he looks at me and tries to smile. He is so pale. So very very pale that you can't even see the hideous sunburn that he got at the beach yesterday, the one I knew would make him sick, the one that made me worry, justly.

I won't lie. I panicked. I was that stupid person you see in movies or on TV, just racing around not actually doing anything. I remember my mind going in circles - who do I call? who do I call? who do I call? his dad? 911? pediatrician? oh god WHO is his pediatrician? Which hospital should I call? do I call my friend who is a nurse? what do I do? I had my phone in my hand, open to my contact list, but I was circling my son, wetting a washcloth for his face, getting him water, soothing the baby, and then my son sat up.  He said, "I feel better, I'm ok, I think I passed out in the bathroom before I came to get you though".

I sit and have him sip water. I touch his forehead again. I am breathing slower, thinking clearer. He puts down the water and looks at me. "Oh mom it's gonna happen again!" he says. I say, "it's ok buddy, lay down, lay down, just lay down, breathe, it's ok... hold on..." and it passes, he is fine, he lays there and breathes and is fine.

He talks.  He wants to get up, to go to the bathroom.  I send my partner with him, make him leave the door open, and sit down to call someone, finally, someone...the pediatrician, they'll have an on call urgent care clinician.  They'll tell me what to do.  At some point I have Googled "sun stroke" on my iPhone and am terrified.

I call, I am patched thru to a clinician. My son now sits on the couch across from me, sipping water.  His sunburn is glowing in the half lit living room, his face is swollen, the left side in particular.  His chest seems nearly purple red.  I tell the clinician that he passed out, I say twice but think to myself that is was really almost 3 times, but I can't find the words to say "convulsion".  It's ok though because she says, "ER, now..." and we go.

I leave the baby with my partner, put a bra on, grab a sweater, my son is half joking now, clear headed, alert, oriented.  I am still scared, and when he asks to drive I can't believe it. "Dork!" I mutter while sliding behind the wheel. I shake my head. He laughs.  We drive.

I ask him again, and again, and again, if he is ok, what he feels, is he nauseous? Yes. Does his head ache? Yes.  Is he hot? Um, no, kind of cold. Does he hurt? Yes, the burn, mostly his face and ear, that's what woke him up he thinks. Lightheaded? No, not now. Sweaty? No, dry. Tired? Yes, very.

At the hospital they run blood work, EKG, chest x ray. All normal.  They give him a liter of IV fluid, some heavy hitting ibuprofen, and a blanket. We are out of there in just over an hour.  Gatorade. Rest. Stay out of the sun and heat. A few days... next time wear sunscreen, drink more fluids, take a break from the sun.  Next time...

My son was sick.  Very sick.  But he was also very lucky.  Once we were home and he'd slept, had a good lunch, had drank 2 quarts of Gatorade, I made him sit and research sun poisoning, heat stroke, heat exhaustion.  I wanted him to see how lucky he was, how close he came to being dangerously, critically, ill.  I hope he learned something.

In the meantime, I can't close my eyes.  I see him falling, and convulsing, over and over. It's gonna be awhile before I recover too.

Sing me a new song

I love music.  I'm a fan of sappy emotional songs that are often, sadly, linked to TV Dramas or Indie Romance Films. Although I'm a sucker for most country songs too.  I'm mostly a fan of lyrics over the actual music.  Lyrics speak in ways that I can't, and express my feelings so beautifully over my own awkward ramblings.

When I was at my most happiest, content, and "normal", I listened to a lot of contemporary christian music.  I was deep in my relationship with God and loved using songs to praise Him and to just be joyful.  When my life got really hard and then quickly spiraled into something resembling a Made For TV Hallmark Movie of the Week, I ran as far away from God as I could.  I figured if He couldn't protect me, then I should focus my attentions elsewhere.  But hey, that is an entirely different story.  I'm talking about music.  So, when life got crazy, I gave up my contemporary christian except for a few favorites that I sang to myself and I moved into the TV Drama/Indie Romance soundtrack period of time.

Certain songs I assign to certain experiences. I'm pretty sure a lot of people do that, but I have a lot of experiences that are rooted in grief and loss and confusion that have an entire soundtrack built around them.  The problem for me is that I do it, assign these awesome songs to these not-so-awesome experiences, and then every time I hear that song, I RE-experience all the feelings I had originally.

I just watched Silver Linings Playbook and had such compassion for the way the character totally loses his composure with one certain song.  I also really understood how he could hear the song even when it wasn't playing - and have the emotions and reactions play out even though there was NO SONG.  I get it.  I'm not an undiagnosed bipolar on serious meds, but I have my own reactions to songs and I too can hear them playing when they aren't.  And I don't like it.

I don't like that, while listening to Pandora and cleaning the house, a song can come on that makes my thoughts and emotions all jumpy, fragile and brittle, right there in the middle of what WAS an ordinary safe and vaguely pleasant time.  I don't like that while I'm putzing around the grocery store or driving to work and a song comes on the radio/P.A. system that sends my heart into a solid lump dropping to the bottom of my stomach.  I don't like that my son can be looking up songs on you-tube and something comes along that takes me back, back, back to a time I do NOT want to revisit.

I need new songs.  I need to find the music that is a soundtrack to THIS life, my life NOW.  I need songs that remind me of the times my kids and I laugh until someone cries or pees, songs that take me to the moment they put my newest baby into my arms for the first time, songs to make me remember sitting outside roasting marshmallows over our fire pit while the stars shone overhead and everyone I loved most was there with me.  I need songs to make me smile when I hear them, laugh and sing along, to dance.

Sing me a new song...

Two Weeks

My son has been living with me for two weeks now.  After 4 years of every other weekend visits, two weeks seems like the blink of an eye, and an eternity all at the same time. A joyful, amazing, awesome and inspiring blink of eternity...

I suppose that is what life is like though, anything hard as well as anything sublime - time speeds up and slows down all at once for an incredible time-warp sci-fi illusion in your heart.  It must have to do with the fact that even when your heart stops completely in your chest from fear, or anger, or joy, life simply continues on and the mundane minutia of life continues.

I have worked with my son on a final project for school - hours of editing and pulling words out of the air to compose one extra paragraph for an essay, using our imaginations to expose what we think an artist meant to convey by using a certain color - and it has been bonding time for us.  But during those hours camped in front of the computer I have also had to wash dishes, sort laundry, feed the baby, pull the baby out of the garbage/toilet/pantry countless times, taken the dog out to pee, and still had to go to work and come home again.  Like I said, mundane minutia a midst amazing bonding.

I've also had to nag.  Can I say that nagging has been a joyful experience without sounding like I'm mentally unstable?  Actually, my son and I have both enjoyed the nagging.  For me, it's a pleasure to have to remind him to pick up his underwear or wet towel, to move his shoes, to shut the door - because those are words of love, of training, words that a "parent" must speak.  For him, it's been a pleasure because it speaks of love, of attention, of someone looking out for him, words meant to surround him with "mother-ness".  Something he has missed so very much.

I worry.  I worry about my daughter now left behind at her fathers house.  She doesn't seem to mind, really.  Shes a simple soul, easy to please, easy to love, easy going, and is glad that her big brother is safe, happy, and finally at peace here with me.  She is glad there is less stress and fighting in the house where she is.  She is glad, even more so now, to actually spend time with her brother when they are here together.  But I worry anyway.  I worry that she is lonely, alone, defenseless.  She assures me, and so does my son, that there is nothing to worry about.  But isn't that what a mother does? Worries?

Four years of worry... chronic, aching, pinching, overwhelming worry now pared down to two weeks worth concentrated all on her.  Ouch. I'm so tired of worry.

Two weeks of bliss, worry, bonding, nagging, and laundry...  two weeks of a decidedly messier house, a louder house, a busier house, and yet the empty place where my daughter should be seems even MORE noticeable now that I am so aware of her being alone.

My son will be off to college after next year... the time will fly by so fast that I will hardly have time to love him enough before he's gone.  But for now I am going to relish the two weeks we've had and I will let tomorrow take care of itself.

I wonder if you know...

…that I cry for you.

i wonder if you know that i think of you a bajillion times a day, wonder how you are physically and emotionally, what you are wearing and if you are warm enough or clean enough, how you are feeling about yourself or your life, what you are doing when you aren't at home or at school – when you are out there on your own and alone, and full of raw angst over not knowing all of those things innately.

…that I ache for you.

i wonder if you have ever felt the need to be with me, the longing to be held and touched and mothered the way i so desperately need to be with you, hold you, touch you, and mother you like i did before all of this, if you cry for me and i agonize over the image of you needing me.

…that I die a little more without you.

i am not who i used to be, when i was there – and it gets harder and harder with each passing event, to find within me that same spirit, that i am more and more dead to myself, dead to the past, the same way that i see you slipping away as time goes by.

…that I did, indeed, really, do everything I could, within my power, and with my own sense of morals, to avoid this very thing.

i wonder if you think that i didn’t try hard enough, didn’t just produce from thin air the money or time or magical ‘thing’ that would have fixed it all, wonder if you’ve slid into that camp of “against” instead of firmly rooted in “for”.

…that I didn’t do what you might, at a more grown up time, think I should have done, that I didn’t do what he thought I should have done, but that I did what was right to do.

i wonder if you carry the thought that i should have done, should be doing, chose wrong – and in your limited perspective it is the only truth you know or if you carry the conceptual thought that i am doing all that i can and should and holding up my own preservation for the long term benefit and silently rooting me on from the sidelines.

…the sheer strength and courage I possess is admirable and inspiring – that the giving up of something because it preserves it is better than trying to hold too tight and causing the destruction of it – and that is true love.

i wonder if you’ll see the strength for what it is, see the stubborn grasp on courage that i refuse to release, if you’ll be inspired in your life for watching this quiet tenacity at work in me, if you’ll thank me for not causing more damage or if you’ll hate me for not blindly desperately flailing to grasp the very thing i want at all costs just to show that i DO want it.

…that I love you so much…so much…so much…

…or if you’ll think i loved myself more, loved someone else more, or if you’ll feel abandoned when i meant for you to feel safe.

I wonder if I even want you to know...

Kings or Rebels

He has one gray hair.  Just one.  One silver strand of hair mingled into his silky mop of brown.  It's been there since birth I assume, but I only noticed it a week or so after, once he'd been bathed and shampoo'ed and had lost that glowing pink newborn color and settled into his real live skin color - peaches and cream of course.

Now, at almost 11 months, I look for that single silver strand every time I hold him close. I rake my fingers through the slippery silk of his baby fine gold/red/brown hair and seek out that one special strand.  I will be heartbroken when I can no longer find it.

It reminds me of the story of the Rainbow fish with all her beautiful scales and how she finally learned to share.  I wonder if some angel somewhere decided to share some special angel beauty and my son received it as a single strand of silver in his hair.

I think about how when God touches you, you are indelibly marked forever more as HIS.  Is this single silver strand the mark of God upon my child?

I love that single gray hair. I love every hair on his little round head, every lash lining his huge brown eyes, but I treasure that lone gray hair. I imaging Mary treasuring over Jesus, over his curls or his eyelashes, or the sweetness of his dimpled knuckles. Us mothers, on the whole, we treasure our babies be they kings or rebels.

Good Night Son

Four years.

Four first day of school days each of the past four Septembers.  Four last day of school days each of the past four Junes.

Four of every imagineable holidays: Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, Halloween, Fourth of July, Mothers Day... Birthdays...

Four years of missing out.

Four years worth of "go take a shower" and "is your homework done?", and "I said turn off the lights, it's way past bedtime".

Four years worth of dinner around the table and holding hands for saying grace and "get your elbows off the table" and "use your napkin NOT your jeans!" and "eat your veggies...okay half... ok fine, three bites... no that doesnt' count as a bite... fine just clear your plate".  Four years worth of sighing.

Four years worth of, "wake up, good morning!" and "are you up?" and, "lets go, come on!" and,  "GET UP!" and "RUNRUNRUN we're late!"

Four years of uncountable things gone, missed, lost, irretrievable.

Four years worth of every other Saturday, 9-9 only.

Four years worth of  "Good night son, I love you, sleep tight, sweet dreams..." uttered only to myself and the shadows in an empty room.

But last night... last night I rustled up sheets, blankets, an extra pillow.  Never mind that it was 90 degrees, and humid, I was going to make a proper bed up with sheets and blankets and pillows.  Last night I found clean towels and a bedside lamp and an extra charger for the mp3.  And then... oh God, I tucked my son into bed, in MY house, and said, "Good night son, I love you, sleep tight, sweet dreams..."

He is more than 6 feet tall now.  He has man hair on his arms and legs.  He has muscled biceps and stubble on his cheeks. He smells not of sweaty little boy, and grass, and cookies, but of deodorant, of "man".  And I hugged him and tucked him in and slept in the same house with my little boy for the first time in four years.

I woke up and made his lunch.  I nagged him to hurry, to get his book, did he remember his key, his water bottle, his backpack?  I drove him to his high school and joined the line of parents dropping off their kids.  Just like I used to do four years ago before our lives changed.  It was instinctual though, the merging into the carpool lane and inching forward little by little, the nagging...  He said goodbye as he unfolded himself out of the car, and I said, "See ya later Bud, have a good day" just like any other parent.

Four years gone... but yet this one day was heaven.

Tonight I pray will be another night I can hug him and whisper to him, "Goodnight son, I love you..."

Transition to Courage

We are all always going through transitions in life. I know, as a parent in particular, I transition with my children through stages of life all the time.  Currently one son is learning to drive, a daughter is finishing her first year of high school, my baby just started walking - so many changes to roll with and readjust to all the time.  That's all a part of life, of living, of growing. But I am also going through a lot of personal transitions.

In fact over the past 4 years I've completely changed almost every part of my life, transitioning from a stay at home mom in a 4 bedroom house with a white picket fence, a minivan and a garden to a single mom in a third floor walkup in a sketchy area of a big city, living paycheck to paycheck and almost hysterically dependant on foodstamps.  And today I find myself struggling to accommodate yet another transition in my life.

I've lost so much in the past few years. I've gained a lot of wisdom and insight, but the things I've lost have marked my soul forever.  I've come to a pivotal point in a relationship though and I'm so afraid of letting go.  I know I want to let go, I know I need to let go, I know that letting go will be healthier and smarter, but I'm so afraid of losing one more thing in my life, one more person, one more safety net that I rely on. I find it so hard to just release myself and see what will happen.  I imagine the worst, because I've had "the worst" happen and I feel realistically justified in assuming that the worst will come true.  I try to imagine the best - and then self doubt kicks me down.

It's all fear based.  A therapist told me once that I may never escape fear, that I might walk hand in hand with it over every decision that comes my way, however I have the choice to embrace fear and use it, or to let it lead me.  Right now I am being led by my fear and it's not a lot of fun.  I can stop it but it takes a measure of courage and I'm not feeling very courageous right now.

As I'm writing this, I realize I am talking myself through the entire issue, I am therapizing (is that a word? It is now...) myself.  It's pretty helpful actually.  More productive than sitting on my couch with a carton of ice cream thats for sure! I know I've come a long way in the past year alone, I know I've been brave, been courageous, been smart and strong and self sufficient and self reliant. I am proud of my accomplishments, of the ways in which I've planned to move ahead. But I find myself stuck at this point, in this relationship, because of fear.

It's time to let go, roll into the transitions it brings, and put fear in the back seat instead of the drivers seat. Its time to let my courage rise up and light the way.

The Truth Is

The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing and should therefore be treated with caution ~ JK Rowling

I think about all the truths that you felt so strongly about sharing with me - and how deep those truths scalded into my soul, and the ugly vivid scar tissue they left behind. Even though I know with all the truth I have of my own, that YOUR truths were only true for YOU, I am still scarred by them.

I think about all the truths you've spouted from vengeful angry lips, truths borne of fear and insecurity, truths molded by your past, by your own vivid scars, truths grown from desperation and manipulation - and I feel their roots weaving down into my soul irretrievably like some weed gone wild and out of control that overtakes an entire garden, choking it from light and growth.

I can find no more room for your truths, as untrue as they are. I can find no more room for stretching to accommodate, no more ability for folding and bending to maneuver, and no more strength for holding up under your terrible unbeautiful untrue truths. The truth is, I am done with you and your truth.

I have found no beauty in truth.

I think about all the truths I never spoke aloud, truths I hid in my mouth like forbidden candy, tasting of guilt and fear instead of goodness. I wish I had been able to share them, I wish I had been able to hold them out to the light and let them find their own beauty, let their purity shine all around us and lighten up the dark we scurried around in.  But I didn't, couldn't, wouldn't.

I think with regret of all the truths I never spoke, or of truths I whispered and then hurriedly and apologetically took back, of truths I denied myself - and the more I think of them, the more they begin to grow again, to take root, to poke past the shadows, to become exposed.  My truths.  My baby truths. My tender, fresh, still there, truths.  I am growing truth.

Perhaps there is beauty yet to be found...

Milestones

I know I have bad breath - I just slammed a cup of coffee after eating a handful of veggie chips and I reach for a peice of gum so that when I start yelling at him, face to face, he won't be blasted away by my coffee-and-chip breath.  Then I stop.  He deserves to be blasted by my nasty coffee-and-chip breath, I think to myself.  And with a little self satisfied smirk, I grab my keys and head for the door, leaving my gum behind.

When he pulls up in the parking lot, I am ready.  I have my words all rehearsed and ready to go.  Words fly around my brain like little springtime gnats: Respect, Honor, Responsible, Disappointed,  Do What You Say, Communication... but all the words fly away from me as I see him step from the car.

He is so tall now.  He topped 6 feet a few months ago, and while he is still lanky, long-limbed and narrow in the shoulders, his face is getting stronger, his arms fuller, his facial hair defined, even the hair on his arms seems more manly now.  This son of mine, so amazing to my eyes, so joyful to my heart, how can I be so angry at this miracle of mine?

He has a stubborn set to his jaw, I know he too is angry, annoyed, irritated, whatever it is that teenagers  feel when confronted with parents and rules and boundaries. I look at that face with it's newly defined jaw and cheekbones, the smooth skin where he has obviously just shaved (like I told him to via text message) and I remember the sweet pink roundness of him at 4 - his eyes so huge and brown with those thick long lashes that only boys get.  His eyes are the same and I soften a little.

I hug him and he tolerantly pats my shoulder.  I am not a big person, I come barely to his chest and when he is in a teasing mood he wraps his arms around my head and buries my face in his armpit. Not this time though.  This time I get that tolerant shoulder pat.  I look up, up, up at him and I say, with all seriousness, "Come closer, I want you to smell my breath!"

As we walk into the store I tell him how I was so mad that I wanted him to have to deal with the yelling, the lecture, AND the bad breath and by now we are both laughing a bit.  He apologizes and I say, "Well, that's nice, but I still get to yell at you later ok?" He says, "I know, I know!" and we go about the business of getting him employed.

Another milestone for him is right under his feet.  Like always, from the day he took his first steps, I am there beside him to encourage him, cheer him on, and catch him if he falls.