I love relationships.
It's no secret that I got married at a young age. Days after I turned 21 to be exact. I found what I thought was a great guy, and after so many bad ones, I longed and yearned to be with someone who valued my traditions, family, and friends. I am so glad I am in a place where I don't feel like I NEED a man. Sure, someday I want to get married again. But I will be so much more picky the next time around.
I crave friendship.
I don't have many close friends. My bestie Alesia, who I can completely open up to and be vulnerable with. There are no more than 3 people in my life that I can count on, any time of the day or night. I crave friendship with one person more than any other, though. My sister.
We grew up fairly close. We fought, as siblings always do. But I idolized her. Everything she did, everywhere she went. She had the coolest friends, coolest clothes and cutest guys around her. I always wanted to tag along. When she met her husband, who I might add, has been an amazing husband and daddy, it was like a wedge was driven between us. I was young and stupid, and they were both young, and I felt like he took her away from me. She wasn't home anymore, and all she could talk about was him, him, him. I get why, now. When you are young and fall in love, it's all you care about. It doesn't make it right or wrong, but somewhere along the line, you lose your head.
How I wish I could have gone to her for so many things. When I didn't know what to do in college. Whether or not I should have broken up with a boy. Having a double date. Calling her when I was hit on by my husband, or cheated on. Those were hard things, but this is the hardest.
We both have kids we adore. We adore each other's kids. I want to call her with funny stories, sad stories, and everything in between. She moved a few hours away with her family about a year ago, and she told me in an email. I was so hurt that she felt like she couldn't just tell me. I know I must have messed up, or closed off, or whatever, but I wish there was something I could do to bring us closer.
Now, more than ever, I want her. I want a loving, respectful, adult relationship with my sister, who I always wanted to be my best friend. I'm not sure where to go from here.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
Ahhh...Tee Ball
Some days I kind of think that if I didn't have my kids around, I might go crazy. But then I think, I've been told by my ex husband for the last 3 years that if we didn't have kids, we wouldn't be divorced. Still, I remain convinced they keep me sane. Mostly.
One of my greatest joys this spring and early summer has been watching them in tee ball. Kennedy is 7, and the oldest on the team. Wyatt is 5, and the youngest. Watching both ends of the spectrum has been interesting. Kennedy started out the season tentative, just like she ended last year, barely swinging the bat, and if the ball was thrown to her, she'd cross her legs to not get hit, close her eyes, and stick out her glove like she was going to catch a 30 pound lead ball. Wyatt was the opposite, swinging for the fences, throwing balls hard, and going after everything that was within 50 feet of him.
But things have changed. Kennedy now has her swing down pat. She is throwing like a dude. She hits base hits and RBI's. Ok, everybody in tee ball hits an RBI, but still. She totally hits them the best. She is more confident than any kid on the field and it is amazing to see how far she's come. She even said the other day she wants to be an all-star. I didn't tell her she'd have to sign up again, only for softball, to be an all-star. Wyatt changed his swing, and put his body into it. He's still chasing balls at first when he's playing third. But the funniest thing about that kid, is his worst fear in life is to be tagged. He runs faster than most adults I know with a look of determination that I've only seen in the Olympics, his only goal being not to get tagged. It is the funniest thing I've ever seen, and it won him many adult admirers for his hustle and squirly moves down the third base line.
I don't feel like I'm the kind of parent that jumps up and down and claps and squeals with every at bat. I absolutely cheer my kids on, but I also know they would shoot me a look of daggers if I embarrassed them by cheering too loudly. Duh. After the game, no matter how they played, I tell them I'm proud of them and as long as they tried their best, that's all I ask.
Their dad, on the other hand, will say things like, "I guess I'm going to have to find a new son that isn't afraid of the ball....." or "Kennedy, if you ran a little faster, you wouldn't get out on the base...." Seriously.
Their coach handed out medals to all the kids. I don't like everyone winning all the time, but I'm all for 5 and 6 year olds getting a medal at the end of the year for working hard and improving. I took pictures, hugged them, said how proud I was that I got to be the mom of the two best kids on the team, only because of their hard work in between games. What does their dad say? "I hope you guys don't get silver medals for the rest of your lives. Second place is first loser." Ok. I get that second place is first loser and all that crap, but really, can't you just let them revel, even for a few minutes, in their accomplishments? It's all they've got right now.
I may not be the best mom on the block, but I've got my kids' back no matter what. And as long as they work hard and are better people every day, I am proud of them. I only wish they had two positive outlooks in their lives instead of one cancelling me out.
One of my greatest joys this spring and early summer has been watching them in tee ball. Kennedy is 7, and the oldest on the team. Wyatt is 5, and the youngest. Watching both ends of the spectrum has been interesting. Kennedy started out the season tentative, just like she ended last year, barely swinging the bat, and if the ball was thrown to her, she'd cross her legs to not get hit, close her eyes, and stick out her glove like she was going to catch a 30 pound lead ball. Wyatt was the opposite, swinging for the fences, throwing balls hard, and going after everything that was within 50 feet of him.
But things have changed. Kennedy now has her swing down pat. She is throwing like a dude. She hits base hits and RBI's. Ok, everybody in tee ball hits an RBI, but still. She totally hits them the best. She is more confident than any kid on the field and it is amazing to see how far she's come. She even said the other day she wants to be an all-star. I didn't tell her she'd have to sign up again, only for softball, to be an all-star. Wyatt changed his swing, and put his body into it. He's still chasing balls at first when he's playing third. But the funniest thing about that kid, is his worst fear in life is to be tagged. He runs faster than most adults I know with a look of determination that I've only seen in the Olympics, his only goal being not to get tagged. It is the funniest thing I've ever seen, and it won him many adult admirers for his hustle and squirly moves down the third base line.
I don't feel like I'm the kind of parent that jumps up and down and claps and squeals with every at bat. I absolutely cheer my kids on, but I also know they would shoot me a look of daggers if I embarrassed them by cheering too loudly. Duh. After the game, no matter how they played, I tell them I'm proud of them and as long as they tried their best, that's all I ask.
Their dad, on the other hand, will say things like, "I guess I'm going to have to find a new son that isn't afraid of the ball....." or "Kennedy, if you ran a little faster, you wouldn't get out on the base...." Seriously.
Their coach handed out medals to all the kids. I don't like everyone winning all the time, but I'm all for 5 and 6 year olds getting a medal at the end of the year for working hard and improving. I took pictures, hugged them, said how proud I was that I got to be the mom of the two best kids on the team, only because of their hard work in between games. What does their dad say? "I hope you guys don't get silver medals for the rest of your lives. Second place is first loser." Ok. I get that second place is first loser and all that crap, but really, can't you just let them revel, even for a few minutes, in their accomplishments? It's all they've got right now.
I may not be the best mom on the block, but I've got my kids' back no matter what. And as long as they work hard and are better people every day, I am proud of them. I only wish they had two positive outlooks in their lives instead of one cancelling me out.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
The First Time
It was the first time, but it wouldn't be the last.
We were engaged. I had purchased a computer and desk to go with it for us, for our new life together. We were upstairs in his 2 bedroom apartment, putting together the desk. Everyone knows that if a marriage can survive putting things together, it can pretty much survive anything.
I was trying to help, reading directions, while giving my opinion on where things should go. We were almost done, and were both frustrated that it had taken so long to put together. It was getting late, we were both tired, and he finally had enough of my directions. I said something he deemed was wrong, and before I knew it, he bounded across the room and smacked me across the cheek and ear. It was hard. I didn't know exactly what to do.
I ran downstairs to the bathroom, and sat on the toilet for what seemed like hours, holding my head in my hands, crying. Not believing that my fiancee had just slapped me like one slaps a dog when they lick. Not believing that I was sitting on a toilet crying while he was upstairs finishing our project that we were so excited to start together. And only believing that it wouldn't happen again.
He came downstairs and apologized. He said he was tired, and he was sorry, and it would never happen again. BUT, I need to not be so bossy when reading directions. The next day, he gave me a dozen roses and told me he loved me. The pattern started.
It was the first time, but it wasn't the last.
We were engaged. I had purchased a computer and desk to go with it for us, for our new life together. We were upstairs in his 2 bedroom apartment, putting together the desk. Everyone knows that if a marriage can survive putting things together, it can pretty much survive anything.
I was trying to help, reading directions, while giving my opinion on where things should go. We were almost done, and were both frustrated that it had taken so long to put together. It was getting late, we were both tired, and he finally had enough of my directions. I said something he deemed was wrong, and before I knew it, he bounded across the room and smacked me across the cheek and ear. It was hard. I didn't know exactly what to do.
I ran downstairs to the bathroom, and sat on the toilet for what seemed like hours, holding my head in my hands, crying. Not believing that my fiancee had just slapped me like one slaps a dog when they lick. Not believing that I was sitting on a toilet crying while he was upstairs finishing our project that we were so excited to start together. And only believing that it wouldn't happen again.
He came downstairs and apologized. He said he was tired, and he was sorry, and it would never happen again. BUT, I need to not be so bossy when reading directions. The next day, he gave me a dozen roses and told me he loved me. The pattern started.
It was the first time, but it wasn't the last.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Vegas Baby
So I have never been to Las Vegas. Seriously. Stop laughing. I have always lived just a short plane ride away, and only a good day's drive, but I have never been there. I have always wanted to, but, it just never worked out. I either didn't have any money to go, was married to someone who never left Missoula County, or had kids I had to stay home and take care of. I have always kept my eye out for a conference that I could go to there, or, maybe a free trip.
Now is my time. I am going to Las Vegas in May for....a work conference! My boss is going with me, and it is an all-expense paid trip. I pretty much told him he had to go or I wouldn't bill any more insurance companies and I would probably just stop coming to work. With a sweet voice and batting eyelashes, it only took him a moment to say yes. Heh.
The downside? I have to leave my kids for 3-4 nights. While they have sporting events going on. Not. Fair. I always predict the worst when I'm not with my kids. Like, I'm going to stay on the 37th floor of the hotel, and there is going to be a major earthquake. Or one of my kids will get a head injury and I won't be back in time to tell them I love them for forever and a day. I just KNOW something bad is going to happen, either to me or them. We have been on multiple plane trips together, the 3 of us, to Phoenix and back. If the plane is going to crash, at least we are all together and can hold hands and pray. If they are not with me and my plane crashes, will they know how much I love them? Will their dad carry on my legacy through them? Will they ever see my family again, or will hard feelings keep them apart forever?
I am ridiculously excited to go to Vegas, have a blast, and take in a show or two. All while going with someone I can have so much fun with. But how do I deal with the anxiety before and during the trip, that something will go wrong? Is it stupid to leave a message video, predicting my demise, telling them I love them more than anything? I seriously need to take a chill pill. Tell me, how do YOU deal with anxiety? A shot or six of vodka might help, but it won't stop the inevitable from happening. Ugh.....and will they hate me if I leave them for 4 nights? I haven't even left yet and my kids already hate me. Right?
Now is my time. I am going to Las Vegas in May for....a work conference! My boss is going with me, and it is an all-expense paid trip. I pretty much told him he had to go or I wouldn't bill any more insurance companies and I would probably just stop coming to work. With a sweet voice and batting eyelashes, it only took him a moment to say yes. Heh.
The downside? I have to leave my kids for 3-4 nights. While they have sporting events going on. Not. Fair. I always predict the worst when I'm not with my kids. Like, I'm going to stay on the 37th floor of the hotel, and there is going to be a major earthquake. Or one of my kids will get a head injury and I won't be back in time to tell them I love them for forever and a day. I just KNOW something bad is going to happen, either to me or them. We have been on multiple plane trips together, the 3 of us, to Phoenix and back. If the plane is going to crash, at least we are all together and can hold hands and pray. If they are not with me and my plane crashes, will they know how much I love them? Will their dad carry on my legacy through them? Will they ever see my family again, or will hard feelings keep them apart forever?
I am ridiculously excited to go to Vegas, have a blast, and take in a show or two. All while going with someone I can have so much fun with. But how do I deal with the anxiety before and during the trip, that something will go wrong? Is it stupid to leave a message video, predicting my demise, telling them I love them more than anything? I seriously need to take a chill pill. Tell me, how do YOU deal with anxiety? A shot or six of vodka might help, but it won't stop the inevitable from happening. Ugh.....and will they hate me if I leave them for 4 nights? I haven't even left yet and my kids already hate me. Right?
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Faith
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.
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.
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.
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