Sad. . . . .

Today is Amelia's last day of preschool. In three short months she will be in kindergarten, all day-- and it is now that I realize I have lost any opportunity to be a stay at home mom with my children, and this hurts. I wanted nothing more than that when I had Abigayle, but I put my dreams aside and continued going to work day in , day out to support my family. When Amelia came along I thought I would finally be able to be home with the girls and that thought was quickly squashed as I headed back to work 12 weeks later. Luckily I lived close to work and was able to go home at lunch to see them, but that just made me want to be home all the more, as I would leave knowing that my sister, or my mom got to be with my babies all day (to them, this may not have been the joy I saw it as!) When the girls and I moved during the divorce, I pretty much knew that I would never  be a stay at home mom, as I was now their sole provider-- and that sugar daddy I dreamt about-- he never did come along :(

So now, as I prepare to take Amelia to school, knowing that her preschool days are over I just want to cry, in fact I am-- because it's yet another milestone to growing up. So, someday I will let the girls know, that even though I wasn't able to be home with them when they were younger, my heart always was-- and if weren't for a need for food, shelter and clothing-- I would have been home, everyday!

And to all of the stay at home moms-- lucky you, I am envious.

To Abigayle

My beautiful daughter. . . .  you came into my life eight  short years ago and have forever changed me and I thank God every day for you.

I can't believe you are eight.  Sometimes when your hair is pulled back in a ponytail and you are playing,  I'll catch a glimpse of you  from when you were two  or even three and it takes my breathe away--where has time gone?

Today I was lucky enough to be able to come to school and sit with you and your friends while you ate lunch together  and then go out to recess with you, and all the while I kept thinking that someday you won't want me around, you won't want to  hold my hand in front of your friends and it saddens me-- so I am going to enjoy it while I can.

I hope you had a happy birthday baby girl--  even though birthdays are happy days, thinking about you growing up is so sad to me and I hope you will always know that no matter where life takes you, mommy will always be here waiting and more in love with you each and every day!

Happy Birthday Abigayle !

Mother's Day

With Mother's day only a day away, I felt inspired to say something about it. I was actually born on Mother's day, whether or not this was a gift to my own Mother I have never quite figured out. Imagine a day honoring you and you get to spend it cramped up, with your uterus spasming hoping to die-- sounds lovely. So into the world I came-- and have since left a trail of terror through my mother's life.

There was the time when I was five and was forced to drag my tag-a-long two year old sister, Marie, with me  out to collect chicken eggs from the coop, upon leaving the coop I instructed her to go back in and get the last one, as she did I locked the door from the outside and headed back to the house, never looking back-- This event resulted in me getting a chance to "see what it was like" as I was shut in a dark closet-- Really?? can you do that to children?

When I was about eight I patiently encouraged my mothers accordion "lessons" as a creosol fire roared through our wood burning stove -- events related? I doubt it-- However, the sounds she was making with that accordion could have drowned out the cries of a dying cat, and my sisters and I sat politely  listening for a very long time, had we said "you suck!" the chimney may have never caught fire.

The teen years were the worst...

I believe the time I ran away was ,by far, the icing on the cake. Technically, I still don't see it as "running away", I flat out asked if I could go. Being a 15 year old, I knew everything about everything and decided that even if she told me "no" I had every right to pack into a van  full of smelly hippies, drive from Michigan to Colorado and live in a shack with no running water.Ah the good life! I was gone for a few weeks. . did I once think about the years I was taking off my mom and dad's lives? Yeah right! I was having fun! Until.. . I wanted to shower, until a huge red spider slipped into my mouth in the middle of the night and sucked blood from my lip, until I realized that one can't survive on $68, until I realized my underarm hair was long enough to braid-- so I called home, and was told to get to the airport, NOW!! and so,  I flew back home, smelling like a twelve day old fart and looking like Charles Manson.

I never realized the pain I caused from that one incident until a few weeks back when my dad was retelling the story and said " Do you know how hard that was on me!!!?? I didn't sleep for days, BUT your mother did!!!" Not sure that made me feel better or worse???

Now that I am a Mother, I look back on these and several other events that I would be too embarrassed to share and think, if my  own Abigayle and Amelia even try to do some of the things that I did, I'm screwed. . .I see a lot of praying in my future!!!

So, to my Mother on Mother's day-- please forgive me for all the wonderful memories I was creating for myself and heart attacks I created for you-- LOve yOU!!!

Motherhood. . .

I tried to catch vomit this week-- with my bare hands. It was at the kid check at Chuck E. Cheese, the girls school was there having a fund raiser and we ready to eat some pizza!!-- that is until Abigayle went from excited and starving to a frail mess in about 2.2 seconds. I turned, only for a minute, to ask about a coupon and then turned back around to see Abigayle covered in puke, crying that she also pooped her pants.

WHAT??? Is this the same kid???  No time to answer that because she was going to puke again and all I could do was cup my hands and offer them as a puke catcher, "Here, my child. . . vomit on me, not the whimsical Chuck E. Cheese carpet. . . "

Later I slept with her on the pull-out couch, which has a mattress thickness comparative to a slice of cheese. However, it does not lack in its support system, which includes 3 large metal bars  right across the pressure points of an average size adult-- comfy.

Trying to make her feel better, I offered a pedicure, and she happily said "please" , as we were finishing up with  her now hot pink glittered toenails my mom stopped by and said "well, I wish I could lay on the couch and get a pedicure. . ." and I replied " I'll gladly give you one, if you go to Chuck E. Cheese, puke on  yourself and crap your pants  and have it witnessed by  30 of your friends . . . . "


She declined.

The Easter bandit

Every year at Easter time I take a trip down memory lane to one of the most horrifying memories of my childhood. It was 1985 and I believed strongly in the Easter Bunny. I was 10 years old. The Easter of 1985 proved to be no let down by the Easter Bunny , as “he” loaded our baskets down with much approved Easter goodies; I’m talking peeps of every color, jelly beans, malted milk eggs, Cadbury eggs, a miniature Peter Cottontail complete with sugary eyes, nose and flowers—the goody list was endless, and I was quite satisfied!

The next day was Monday and I was off to school, I nestled my basket between my bed and nightstand—the peeps now out of their packages being dried to perfection, Peter Cottontail was out of his box waiting to be consumed, and the jelly beans were out of their bag so I could easily pick my way through my favorite flavors. The whole day at school I day-dreamed of hardened peeps, Peter Cottontails sugary eyes and jelly beans with their hard outer shells and jelly insides. As soon as I got off the bus I ran into the house and straight to my room. I flipped on the light and went right for my basket. . . . “What the ******?!?!” my Easter basket, the one I had so carefully hid that morning had been sabotaged!

Every single, and yes I mean every single, jelly bean had been licked clean of its hard outer shell and only the bare-naked jellified bodies lay exposed amongst the pink, green and yellow grass. The hot pink marshmallow peeps that were being aged to perfection now looked as if someone had sucked the life out of them and Peter Cottontail—COME ON!!! Not Peter Cottontail!!!.

There was only one logical answer, and it brought me to tears to fathom it. My dad, Bob. The only one alone in the house all day—had he snuck in my room after my departure for school , and like some Easter candy junkie ravaged my Easter basket, the basket that the Easter Bunny had so lovingly gifted to me??? How dare he!! I was mad, I was so mad I held a silent grudge for two days and then finally I couldn't’t take it anymore—I went to my mom and told her, and. . . . I was met with guffaws, chortles and out right hysterical laughter. No compassion there! Thanks a lot Millie, amidst my thoughts of my dad hunched over my Easter basket sucking the innocent life from my peeps and jelly beans, you mock me?? How dare you!

It just so happens during this time of my life I had “yard doodie” I say doodie, because it involved cleaning up the lovely piles our dog decided to leave randomly through out our backyard, as she couldn't’t seem to keep it to one area. So amidst my anger, confusion and sadness I was sent out to shovel up piles of petrified dog crap. What a life! As I walked across the yard towards my first “assignment”, I was stopped dead in my tracks; there in front of me was a fresh pile of dog poop entwined with brightly colored Easter grass—could it be?? Could it be that our dog had been the Easter bandit? Yes it was our dog! Not my dad--Hallelujah! I had never been so happy to see dog poop in all my life. Our dog was outside with me at that moment and as I shrieked out and ran towards her in sheer happiness she turned and bolted in the opposite direction, and there sticking out of her poor behind were many strands of Easter grass--I later apologized to my dad, however, I will never get that initial vision of him out of my head—hunched over my Easter basket sucking the life out of my jelly beans! or the vision of my dog darting away with Easter grass sticking out of her butt~

A mother has no privacy!

This past Sunday I realized that, as a mother, I have forgone any entitlement to privacy. Upon recollection of events, this should have came as no surprise.

I was answering a "call of nature" in the bathroom when the door knob began to wiggle feverishly, and from outside the door " mommy, let me in!"

" uh, don't think so, Amelia, mommy's busy.. . " and then nothing. I thought she had walked away when I was bolted back to reality with a thunderous banging on the door. Now, I don't think this needs to be said for all who know me, but for those of you who don't -- I am a "closet pooper" -- I have a very difficult time if someone is within 50 yards of the bathroom, I require my privacy! So this thunderous banging on the door was not conducive to my activities.

But oh no,it didn't stop there, the banging was followed by " Derek!!! can you unlock the bafroom door?Mommy's in there and won't let me in!" Good God!!! I screeched "DO NOT UNLOCK THAT DOOR!!!!" I know that the only reason Amelia wanted in at that moment was to sit on my lap and have me sing "this little piggy" which I have done,but that was when it was just the two of us home! Have you ever tried to use the bathroom with a four year old sitting on your lap? Not so productive, and I speak from experience.

So this event, made me question my privacy-- it reminded me of a morning about two months ago. I was in the shower before work, before anyone else in the house was up , eyes closed, facing the shower head thinking of everything I had to get done that day. I turned around, with my eyes still closed and then opened them to look for the shampoo-- and there stood Abigayle, my 7 year old daughter, butt- naked smiling at me, "Hi mommy." Upon recovering slightly from the massive coronary I just had, I tried to say something but waited as my heart rate lowered to a leisurely 800 beats per minute, "Abigayle, what are you doing?"

-- And hey , Abigayle you realize you just took 20 good years off mommy's life right????

The response was so sweet I couldn't help but let her stay in the shower with me -" I just wanted to be close to you.. . " So I turned back around to finish showering, thinking this really is sweet of her , until, upon my back came the lashings of "sharkie" the girls prized rubber shark tub toy. If you've never been whipped with a rubber device, I don't suggest trying it at 7:00 a.m. in the morning with wet skin. I gave in to defeat that morning and had nothing to say, except excusing myself from the lovely mother-daughter bond that just took place, dripping wet , with a heart that was now as healthy as a 200 year old oxen.

These two events along with the parading of my bras stuffed with nerf balls, the informative discussions with the ex husband about my body parts that nature has so eagerly aged, the snickering when I'm caught off guard changing, the rifling through my purse for change, the editing of my pictures on my camera (see above) .. . when does it give??? Can't I have one, just one ,trip to the bathroom in private? Or did I give that up for 18 years?

I had a thought today.. .

Do you ever have one of those moments when a thought floods your brain and you just sit, blank faced, staring while your mind rewinds a week ago, a year ago, a decade ago???...I had moment like that today and it was amazing.

I realized amidst my daily work that 4 years ago I was contemplating a divorce. I had sadly, but routinely, came across a phone bill with numbers I didn't recognize. Being the glutton for punishment that I am, I started calling them and although I didn't want to hear the names of people as the voicemails picked up on the other end I listened. So- without going into more detail than needed-- I decided to file for divorce. I was petrified when I moved out of my home with a 4 year old and a 10 month old. I moved into a strange home and a strange neighborhood. The hardest part about this memory was how afraid I was at night. I developed a phobia of hallways, which was and still strikes me as bizarre. Our new home had a hallway with our three bedrooms at the end. I remember at night wishing there was a door with a lock at the beginning of the hallway. I would lay awake cringing at every sound, thinking if someone came into this home, I have no way of protecting my babies. As crazy as this was, it only got worse and I ended up going to a therapist, not only for my fears, but to help cope with the feelings of the divorce.

So a month or two into my weekly visits to the therapist, she asked if she could hypnotize me to help with my self-esteem-- I agreed. If you've never been "hypnotized" it involves alot of visualization, mine started with a flowery field, some butterflies, a stream and then --- a hallway, with alot of doors-- that's right, a hallway. I immediately opened one eye and peered over at the therapist and loudly whispered "psst.. . . do you remember my fear of hallways???" needless to say --no more hypnotizing.

I eventually got over that fear, as ridiculous as it was, but it took alot longer to feel "safe" again. I realized that it doesn't take another person in the house to make you feel safe-- it takes love, it takes kind words, it takes a mom who knows she can protect her children and that comes from GOD. I have yet to understand this amazing journey He has set for me, but I know it is only getting better and better. I know that when I am going through difficult times and I am scared and run down, I just need to have faith and trust. So my jog down memory lane today, as sad as some parts were, helped make me feel better in the end, and gave me strength to carry on.. . .