Faith is so hard. Faith is believing in something you can't physically see. Faith is taking a step down the stairs with your eyes closed. Faith, for me, is hoping that one day I will have a family again, while I wander feeling aimless in this huge world. I look at my life and my troubles, and they are so small compared to some people's. I look at my friend Heather ( ) and can feel her heartache through her words. She lost her precious daughter almost 2 years ago, and her hurt and pain is the same as it was that day. Can you imagine? Could you feel like you lose your child every day, and still be able to walk? I'm not sure I could. I look at her and Mike, and how strong they are every single day. When I have lost track of one of my kids, my heart drops for a second. I can't even fathom how it must feel to have that feeling a thousand, a million times a day. Faith for them, is to one day see Maddie again, wherever that may be. Faith, for the Spohrs, is for the same thing not to happen to their daughter Annabel. It would take great faith to get up every morning if I were in their shoes.
Or another friend I have, who's daughter has neuroblastoma. She went through chemotherapy and radiation, and has been having periodic appointments in another town 5 hours away. Yesterday, the family found out that their sweet five year old's cancer has returned. This means this child will never be in complete remission. The cancer may go away for a period of time, but will always come back. Faith for this family is that the cancer stays away. Faith is that it will be longer than a year before it comes back. Waking up every day, wondering if cancer is growing in your own flesh and blood's body.
I look at these situations, and others. I am so thankful for what I have. I may not always be the best mom, and I'm definitely not the worst, but I have been blessed beyond belief. I may never have all the answers I want about life and the afterlife, but I am completely content with where I am at right now. Today. That is all I can ask for.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Post-Birthday Recovery
When my kids have had birthdays, we've always invited a few of their close friends and some family members. The past couple of years, Kennedy has been wanting to invite school friends. Since our family has been out of town for the last 3 or 4 birthdays/birthday parties, I didn't figure it would be a big deal to invite more of her friends.
Last year for her 6th birthday, while Kennedy was in kindergarten,she had 5 or 6 friends over. We rented Curly the Clown, which, in theory sounds fun, but let me tell you he was one card short of a full deck. On a good day. His jokes weren't funny, he was super loud and obnoxious, and I kind of wondered which of the little girls he was going to follow home. I'm not sure what I expected from a clown, but I guess maybe not scaring the kids was one of my prerequisites. But that's just me. So Uncle Curly came and went, and so did another year.
This year, when Kennedy turned 7, which she just insisted on doing, she wanted friends AND a sleepover. And maybe something fun at the party.....kthanksmom. So I rented this company that brings animals to your party. You know, like birds, and snakes, and hedgehogs and such. I initially told the company I thought there would be 6 or 7 kids there. We ended up? With 13. THIRTEEN. Thirteen mouths for pizza. Thirteen mouths for cake and ice cream. Thirteen children to keep any eye on so no one escapes. Also? Thirteen children at once on the trampoline. There were only 2 bloody lips, 1 bloody nose, 1 twisted ankle, and a partridge in a pear tree. Clearly I am still drunk. The party went off without a hitch, and everyone came and went. The house only took me an hour or so to put back together. Kennedy's presents are all in the playroom now, and all is well in our household again. And when I woke up this morning, it seriously hurt to get out of bed. Three hours of non-stop up to heeeeere stress, I guess does that to a girl.
Needless to say, the birthday party wore me out. But I am so glad we did it. Kennedy had a blast, Wyatt had fun, and all of Kennedy's friends can't wait to come over again. I thought, after recovering for a few hours, ok it really wasn't THAT bad. So as we sat on the couch last night drinking a glass of wine (me, not her!), she looked at me and said, Mom, next year for my birthday party can we take my friends to Disneyland?
What kind of expectations have I set?
Last year for her 6th birthday, while Kennedy was in kindergarten,she had 5 or 6 friends over. We rented Curly the Clown, which, in theory sounds fun, but let me tell you he was one card short of a full deck. On a good day. His jokes weren't funny, he was super loud and obnoxious, and I kind of wondered which of the little girls he was going to follow home. I'm not sure what I expected from a clown, but I guess maybe not scaring the kids was one of my prerequisites. But that's just me. So Uncle Curly came and went, and so did another year.
This year, when Kennedy turned 7, which she just insisted on doing, she wanted friends AND a sleepover. And maybe something fun at the party.....kthanksmom. So I rented this company that brings animals to your party. You know, like birds, and snakes, and hedgehogs and such. I initially told the company I thought there would be 6 or 7 kids there. We ended up? With 13. THIRTEEN. Thirteen mouths for pizza. Thirteen mouths for cake and ice cream. Thirteen children to keep any eye on so no one escapes. Also? Thirteen children at once on the trampoline. There were only 2 bloody lips, 1 bloody nose, 1 twisted ankle, and a partridge in a pear tree. Clearly I am still drunk. The party went off without a hitch, and everyone came and went. The house only took me an hour or so to put back together. Kennedy's presents are all in the playroom now, and all is well in our household again. And when I woke up this morning, it seriously hurt to get out of bed. Three hours of non-stop up to heeeeere stress, I guess does that to a girl.
Needless to say, the birthday party wore me out. But I am so glad we did it. Kennedy had a blast, Wyatt had fun, and all of Kennedy's friends can't wait to come over again. I thought, after recovering for a few hours, ok it really wasn't THAT bad. So as we sat on the couch last night drinking a glass of wine (me, not her!), she looked at me and said, Mom, next year for my birthday party can we take my friends to Disneyland?
What kind of expectations have I set?
Thursday, March 24, 2011
7
My daughter is 7. My little, firstborn, spirited, independent, Kennedy is seven years old today. Time has absolutely flown by.
I laugh at her a million times a day. Either with a face she makes, or a new joke she tells me, or her little voice that says, wassup wassup. She is seriously gangster. In the past year and a half, since she started kindergarten, she has blossomed into such a nice little girl. Don't get me wrong, she still has her moments. She has been known to tell me to back off mom, shutup, *eye roll* I'm running away. Thankfully, those have been fewer and fewer between. She has grown into such a big first grader. My Kennedy who wouldn't look anyone in the eye that she didn't know, now comes into my office and thinks she runs the place. Of course it doesn't help that everyone there calls her "boss", but still. She wants to put patients in rooms, answer the phone, and tell the guys how to modify casts. She's on it.
I can't believe it was seven short years ago I popped her out and she changed my life forever. Some good, some bad. She has made me a different person, and I hope a better one. She is the one that made me a mom, and I am so thankful for that. I tell her every day how lucky I am that God picked me, ME!, to be her mom. I tell her she's pretty darn lucky to have been picked to be my daughter too. I'm a pretty awesome mom if I do say so myself.
I am so proud to call her my daughter. I am so proud of the young woman she is becoming. As much as a control freak as she is, I am happy to see she knows what she wants. She makes my heart smile.
I love you baby girl. Happy seventh birthday.
I laugh at her a million times a day. Either with a face she makes, or a new joke she tells me, or her little voice that says, wassup wassup. She is seriously gangster. In the past year and a half, since she started kindergarten, she has blossomed into such a nice little girl. Don't get me wrong, she still has her moments. She has been known to tell me to back off mom, shutup, *eye roll* I'm running away. Thankfully, those have been fewer and fewer between. She has grown into such a big first grader. My Kennedy who wouldn't look anyone in the eye that she didn't know, now comes into my office and thinks she runs the place. Of course it doesn't help that everyone there calls her "boss", but still. She wants to put patients in rooms, answer the phone, and tell the guys how to modify casts. She's on it.
I can't believe it was seven short years ago I popped her out and she changed my life forever. Some good, some bad. She has made me a different person, and I hope a better one. She is the one that made me a mom, and I am so thankful for that. I tell her every day how lucky I am that God picked me, ME!, to be her mom. I tell her she's pretty darn lucky to have been picked to be my daughter too. I'm a pretty awesome mom if I do say so myself.
I am so proud to call her my daughter. I am so proud of the young woman she is becoming. As much as a control freak as she is, I am happy to see she knows what she wants. She makes my heart smile.
I love you baby girl. Happy seventh birthday.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Out of Hiding
I have had a couple of different blogs over the past few years. They were for my family, my friends, my kids. They also seemed like they were for me. Then I started taking a hard look and them, and I had to actually THINK about what to post. Never in my life have I been at a loss for words, but I felt myself sensoring my feelings, something you should never do in a blog. So this one? This one is for me. This one is for my kids. We are 3 of the handful of people that truly know my every thought and move, and I want to finally lay it on the line. I want to write how *I* write, how *I* feel, what's important to ME. I may step on some toes, and I'm sorry. If you don't like what I say, you probably shouldn't read many of the blogs I have on my blogroll either. Just a warning. So here I go. I'm outing myself.
I am a mother. Mama, mom, mommy, I answer to all of them. My daughter Kennedy is 7 (tomorrow!!), and she is a spitting image of me. People say she looks like me (though I don't see it). She talks like me, acts like me, and makes me laugh every day. She has an attitude that would rival any sixteen year old. She seems to get bigger every day. She's a girlie girl, unfortunately, but I buy hear jewelry, kids makeup and let her dress up in my high heels. We love our girl nights and I try to do something extra special with her when I can. My son, Wyatt, is 5 in a few weeks. He is ALL BOY. He likes to be dirty, always has food on his face, and likes to fart on me in bed when I'm laying on my back. His hand is down his pants constantly, he loves to wrestle, and he can throw a baseball further than his sister, which, really isn't that great, but you get the idea. My son loves me more than anything else in his life, and he is my protector.
I am a pet owner. We have 2 pets right now. Paco, our 5 month old rottweiler, and Sheba, our cat. We had a rottweiler that we had to put to sleep in December, and some days I still cry about it. His picture is still the one that comes up on my phone, I have him framed in my room, and his ashes are still waiting to be spread up in his beloved Swan Range. Paco is becoming an awesome dog, and Sheba is everything a cat should be. Snuggly at times, snobby at times, and always flips attitude to the dog. Until he runs her down and lays on her.
I am a daughter. And a dang good one. I find it ironic how parent/adult children interactions work. I look at some parent/adult children relationships, and admire the openness and connectedness I see. I love that the parents offer to take the grandchildren on a Saturday to the park. I love how overnights are a given at certain times and the adult child doesn't have to ask. Even though both parents work full time, they are still willing and able to set aside their interests, AT TIMES, and just hang with their grandchildren. My mom and I used to butt heads hardcore. I didn't like her, and I'm pretty sure she didn't like me. We have grown closer over the years, which I am thankful for. But I still feel like a child at times. Frowned upon. She makes me crazy sometimes when she asks a question and doesn't listen to the answer. And she knows that. But I am sure she could make a list of complaints about me as well. My dad and I have always been close. It has been a little different recently, but I still love him so much. My dad's arms were always the first I would think of when I was hurting. They always felt so good and strong and loving. I don't like how my dad thinks I have to agree with his every philosophy. He makes me feel inferior at times because I disagree with an opinion and he gives me the "dad look." You know which one I'm talking about. I try to be the best daughter I can be, and sometimes I just don't feel like it's enough.
I am a little sister. I love my sister so much. More than she will ever know. I admire her for many things. But it also seems like at times we have an obligatory relationship. If we weren't sisters, I'm not sure we would pick each other to be friends with. I'm actually pretty sure we wouldn't. And I know she would agree. Her best friend and I are about as opposite as can be, and probably want completely different things out of life. I wish my sister and I were closer, but there have definitely been times that have hampered that, on both of our ends.
I am an aunt. I love my niece and nephews more than I thought I could. They are like my own children, and I would do absolutely anything to help them. I know my sister would do the same for mine. I am so thankful that they are so different and I love each one of them differently, but the same. I don't get to see them enough, and it makes me cry sometimes. I found out years ago, before I had children, that one of my sister's friends would be their caretaker if anything happened to my sister and her husband. I was more heartbroken, I think, than I ever have been. To this day it hurts me. I'm sure I'm out of the running now, since I'm divorced and all, but I wish I could be. I love them so so much.
I am an ex-wife. And a pretty good one at that. I don't bitch at him, well, more than the average ex-wife, I don't take all his money, and I let the kids see him whenever they and he want. I never thought I would be divorced. There is a certain stigma that comes with being divorced, and surprisingly, it's mostly from family. You would think they would be the ones most proactive, but, sadly no. I feel like I'm fully over the hurt, shame, and guilt that comes with being divorced. It will be three years in a few months, and I have FINALLY shed all the layers that need to be shed. It's funny, the people in your life that judge you, talk behind your back and think you don't know, and just generally treat you like you're a second class citizen. It hurts at the time, but it's laughable now. I have no energy, or time, to spend on these people, and it is starting to show. It's a good place for me.
I am a friend. I am an acquaintance. I am an athlete, working to get back into shape. I am a best friend. I am hopelessly and safely in love with a man who it may not work out with. I am me. And I am so proud of my strength.
I am a mother. Mama, mom, mommy, I answer to all of them. My daughter Kennedy is 7 (tomorrow!!), and she is a spitting image of me. People say she looks like me (though I don't see it). She talks like me, acts like me, and makes me laugh every day. She has an attitude that would rival any sixteen year old. She seems to get bigger every day. She's a girlie girl, unfortunately, but I buy hear jewelry, kids makeup and let her dress up in my high heels. We love our girl nights and I try to do something extra special with her when I can. My son, Wyatt, is 5 in a few weeks. He is ALL BOY. He likes to be dirty, always has food on his face, and likes to fart on me in bed when I'm laying on my back. His hand is down his pants constantly, he loves to wrestle, and he can throw a baseball further than his sister, which, really isn't that great, but you get the idea. My son loves me more than anything else in his life, and he is my protector.
I am a pet owner. We have 2 pets right now. Paco, our 5 month old rottweiler, and Sheba, our cat. We had a rottweiler that we had to put to sleep in December, and some days I still cry about it. His picture is still the one that comes up on my phone, I have him framed in my room, and his ashes are still waiting to be spread up in his beloved Swan Range. Paco is becoming an awesome dog, and Sheba is everything a cat should be. Snuggly at times, snobby at times, and always flips attitude to the dog. Until he runs her down and lays on her.
I am a daughter. And a dang good one. I find it ironic how parent/adult children interactions work. I look at some parent/adult children relationships, and admire the openness and connectedness I see. I love that the parents offer to take the grandchildren on a Saturday to the park. I love how overnights are a given at certain times and the adult child doesn't have to ask. Even though both parents work full time, they are still willing and able to set aside their interests, AT TIMES, and just hang with their grandchildren. My mom and I used to butt heads hardcore. I didn't like her, and I'm pretty sure she didn't like me. We have grown closer over the years, which I am thankful for. But I still feel like a child at times. Frowned upon. She makes me crazy sometimes when she asks a question and doesn't listen to the answer. And she knows that. But I am sure she could make a list of complaints about me as well. My dad and I have always been close. It has been a little different recently, but I still love him so much. My dad's arms were always the first I would think of when I was hurting. They always felt so good and strong and loving. I don't like how my dad thinks I have to agree with his every philosophy. He makes me feel inferior at times because I disagree with an opinion and he gives me the "dad look." You know which one I'm talking about. I try to be the best daughter I can be, and sometimes I just don't feel like it's enough.
I am a little sister. I love my sister so much. More than she will ever know. I admire her for many things. But it also seems like at times we have an obligatory relationship. If we weren't sisters, I'm not sure we would pick each other to be friends with. I'm actually pretty sure we wouldn't. And I know she would agree. Her best friend and I are about as opposite as can be, and probably want completely different things out of life. I wish my sister and I were closer, but there have definitely been times that have hampered that, on both of our ends.
I am an aunt. I love my niece and nephews more than I thought I could. They are like my own children, and I would do absolutely anything to help them. I know my sister would do the same for mine. I am so thankful that they are so different and I love each one of them differently, but the same. I don't get to see them enough, and it makes me cry sometimes. I found out years ago, before I had children, that one of my sister's friends would be their caretaker if anything happened to my sister and her husband. I was more heartbroken, I think, than I ever have been. To this day it hurts me. I'm sure I'm out of the running now, since I'm divorced and all, but I wish I could be. I love them so so much.
I am an ex-wife. And a pretty good one at that. I don't bitch at him, well, more than the average ex-wife, I don't take all his money, and I let the kids see him whenever they and he want. I never thought I would be divorced. There is a certain stigma that comes with being divorced, and surprisingly, it's mostly from family. You would think they would be the ones most proactive, but, sadly no. I feel like I'm fully over the hurt, shame, and guilt that comes with being divorced. It will be three years in a few months, and I have FINALLY shed all the layers that need to be shed. It's funny, the people in your life that judge you, talk behind your back and think you don't know, and just generally treat you like you're a second class citizen. It hurts at the time, but it's laughable now. I have no energy, or time, to spend on these people, and it is starting to show. It's a good place for me.
I am a friend. I am an acquaintance. I am an athlete, working to get back into shape. I am a best friend. I am hopelessly and safely in love with a man who it may not work out with. I am me. And I am so proud of my strength.
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