Smothered to Loneliness

I had decided before I started typing that this entry would be about loneliness and it took me some time to put to words how someone who has next to no time alone can be lonely. I suppose there are many forms of loneliness. Some are lonely, missing someone specific while others are lonely only because they were alone from the start. I think there may be a grey area combining the two. Then there is me....lonely while surrounded in people that seemingly have no idea who you are, or the perception they have isn't the one you meant to portray. Lonely because all of your thoughts are longer than anyone wants to listen. Lonely because the people that are willing to hear you are just out of reach until life can change enough to bring them back. Children have a funny way of filling your heart with love you didn't know you could have while draining the emotions you used to think you needed. I'm fairly trapped these days, regardless of what many other moms or parenting advice columns may say. I leave only when I have to in fear of what I describe to my husband as "the horror" that occurs during most outings. My friend choices can no longer be made by my own heart and mind but by a checklist of characteristics I find suitable to be around my children and a checklist of how much this friend can put up with from the monsters. There is a void there where freedom used to live, but also a feeling of pride and "challenge accepted". There are plenty of you that have made it through the screening process I call my life, I only wish now that you are accepted that I had the time or energy to reach out to you. Daily life is a series of loud noises, sudden distractions, messes, destruction and occasional adorable acts to make up for the previously listed events. Throughout this my mind is functioning at about 40% while my physical reflexes make up for the other 60%. After the 23rd time the bowl of crackers goes toppling off the table I can practically fly through the air in slow motion like something out of the matrix and catch the bowl without even realizing I did it. However I have trouble matching my socks or remembering if Im wearing makeup when I rub my eyes. The day ends. Brain function has dwindled to about 20% and the man I married is left with an empty shell of what used to be his wife. I can barely smile, I've either given up completely on the sofa or am running on "clean the house autopilot". I miss being more for him, I miss having time to be in love like teenagers, I miss us. To be honest, when I say I'm lonely its because I'm missing that one person nobody should ever lose. I miss me.

Good Enough but not Better

In comparison to every other mother I know I sometimes really wonder what my life looks like. Do they all wake up ready to shoot laser beams at whatever or whoever is forcing them to wake up regardless of what time it is? Does the sound of their child's voice asking the same question for the 20th time make them grind their teeth to keep from running out the door screaming " I QUIT"? But most importantly do they find themselves thinking "What is the point in all of this??". The daily expectation of a stay at home parent, or even the part time working parent seems unattainable. Nobody can do it to the successful standard of the world, and if you tell me you do I will call you a liar. The tiniest inconvenience or deviance to a preset plan can set the whole day on fire. I subscribe to Better Homes and Gardens (because my little sister was selling it for a fundraiser) and I have to tell you it all looks nice but what we REALLY  need is a "Normal Homes and Yards". Something to look through that makes you realize your cruddy, messy house that has been taken over by your children is average. It's normal, its expected, and quite frankly it makes the rest of us take a big sigh of relief when we walk in. Every day I wake up and lay around for maybe an hour dreading all of tasks that "have" to be done. The dishes, the laundry, the dusting, the vacuuming, paying the bills, preparing a dinner, clean the litter boxes, take out the dog, try to keep the toys somewhat organized so they dont all get lost and broken. That list goes on, mutating and multiplying by the day. The point is where is the part where I play with my kids, teach them things, show them what life SHOULD be about? Well to be honest its not there, at least not enough of it. I keep them alive, feed them, teach them the basics that I can fit in and make sure they dont kill each other. But really... where is the happy medium? Because I dont live in better homes and gardens. Despite the endless list of things I do and need to do my house, garden,  children, meal plan and general life will never be perfect. And neither will yours. I think the answer lies within. Something about leaving behind the jealousy and accepting your own standard of happiness. As of now I haven't found that peace of mind but I suppose it's something to work towards.

Is There a Book, Blog or Magazine for that?

When I was pregnant for the first time I was 21 years old and my experience with babies and children was limited to my younger sister who I honestly didn't take a huge interest in during her younger years. I would later regret that as she was a very difficult baby and probably could have taught me something about what I had coming to me with my son. When my daughter (now 3 1/2) was born I was the expert. I knew everything that the internet had to offer. I could tell you about nutrition, learning, emotional development, parenting styles, the latest greatest and safest products. I was a veritable encyclopedia of baby knowledge. And hey, that's all well and good if your baby fits the books description. Mine did and at that point I was convinced they all did. I scoffed at parents who said they're children were difficult or different because I just assumed they were doing something wrong or not informed well enough. Yes, I was that mom. Autumn proceeded to potty train like a dream, listen to what she was told and eat all her veggies at dinner.  And then along came Jude. From the start he was lodged in my hip, weighed 10 pounds 5 ounces and had the loudest voice in the hospital. No matter, he would fit the books just like his older sister. So home we went, me a little rusty on all the baby knowledge but confident and armed with Google, Babycenter.com, and the army of  facebook moms who would answer all my questions. It took about 3 weeks before I realized my son is not a google baby. There is no issue of parenting magazine to explain him or his needs and not a single one of you facebook friends has exactly the right answer. While the support has been much appreciated I was still left confused and frustrated. I checked out the biggest book at the library about babies. I looked into methods that I was against and ones that i wasn't.  I was ignoring the only two places that had the answer to raising Jude. The hearts of my husband and myself.  Currently, along side his many other challenging quirks, Jude has been screaming like something out of a horror movie for what seems like and may be hours in the dark hours of the morning. After posting about it and concerning myself with allowing him to sleep in our bed to bring him some comfort I realized that in the end they are all different. Nobody can tell me what the right thing is for Jude....except maybe Jude. I won't be making a new years resolution this year but if I had to make a change I guess that it would be to open my heart a lot more and to encourage others to do the same. Babies and children grow up and leave so fast that I cant see shoving them into a category, a website, a book or a set of rules. I just need to learn that it's not about where they sleep, what they eat or what kind of sippy cup they use. Love is what raises them, and I won't ever need a book to teach me how to love.

Death Didn't Take You Away

Many years ago I wrote you a letter. I cant remember what it said, or where I put it...just that is was the most important and life changing piece of paper that I ever held. I put it in an envelope and I started to form a plan to safely ensure that I could say my peace. You never got to read it, I never got to send it. This world just couldn't let you stay. What would I tell you now? I would tell you that my whole life there was a hole inside of me. Something like the way a flame burns paper, it just kept growing and evolving in a singed untamed mess. Somehow when you died you seemed more attainable, closer than ever before. I would shuffle my preset radio stations asking the next song to be from you, a message...something to fill the blank. Staring at mirrors for what seemed like hours in a trance, watching my own face melt before my tired eyes and just hoping to find a glimpse of you in myself. When I was lonely and lost I would drive to your grave, sometimes in the middle of the night, and sit there. I never said a word, and it never made me feel any more whole. I never blamed you, even when I was supposed to, for the way my life played out. Things all work out and our hearts and fate lead us right where we should be. I'm all grown up and the wound is still there, but I no longer need you to heal it. Yet sometimes I wish you could see, I wonder what you would think, and I hurt because I know you can't. Would you be proud of who I am and embrace all my quirks, sensitivity and insanity?  I like to think that death took you to a place where you can see me and appreciate all that you've made possible. To be honest, when Im all alone driving at night and there are no other cars on the road, I pick a star and I claim it as you. I assume that star is shining brighter than any of the other stars specifically for me. Its silly, its childish, but it gets me through.

Happy December

"Mommy, I learned about the baby Jesus today", my 3 year old daughter says proudly upon returning from preschool. "Yeah, they didn't have room for him so they made him stay on the farm". After the initial shock and feeling like my daughter had just told me where babies come from, I had a good laugh. The fact of the matter is my children don't know the origin of Christmas. Some of you may agree and I'm sure many of you disagree, however the bottom line is this : They know the MEANING of the holiday season. Well, at least Autumn does, and Jude will in time. They know the warm feelings that come with decorating the house when it's cold and uncomfortable outside. They know the excitement of Santa and our new favorite, the elf on the shelf. Most importantly they know that it is a time for giving to others and showing your love. This year we went through all the toys and made donations before Christmas and I think that will be a tradition every year. After hearing "I want, I want, I'm gonna get, I need to have" several times I finally sat Autumn down and had a long talk with her about gifts at Christmas time. She understood quickly and can tell you now that Christmas is about giving. We may not be a religious family but I know I am very drawn to tradition, and would never deny our children those joys. Our tree is up, Our stockings are hung and were decorated with close friends. Presents are stacked in my closet and we are baking cookies on Wednesday. I've never been more excited about Christmas than I am this year and I have to thank my little monsters for that. While I was explaining the meaning of Christmas and reliving traditions while making new ones my kids didn't even realize that they were teaching me a whole new meaning to it as well. So no matter what you celebrate or how you celebrate it, Happy togetherness, Happy cookie eating, Joyful Giving and Merry Everything! Stay warm, stay Hopeful, and love each other....because in a week we'll all be back to selfish miserable grumps again LOL.

To live the day by night....

Each morning I wake to nearly the same situation in the same place with the same expectations. Nothing has changed, and at least for some time it will not. Yet there I am stunned, shocked, confused and overwhelmed by each repetition. I go through the day angry and frustrated, rarely enjoying moments I will never get a second chance at. I make excuses for it, There's always an explanation or at least someone else to blame. But lets face it...I make my own world go round. I look in the mirror with disgust, not only for what I see on the outside but for what that vessel holds inside. Almost as if it isn't me, I judge that girl and think how I could live her life so much better....so much easier. Sadly the same conclusion is always waiting for me. She is me, I am her and we cant seem to do any better for us. The same day with a different number on the calender drags into evening and my view begins to swirl. Things that made my blood boil are now simply warming my heart. I can smile again. I can see it all for what it is and appreciate it. I say my sorry's and finish the day out the way I should have started it. Calm quiet reflection falls over the house as everyone sleeps. I go to the same mirror with the same face and without surprise I see the same girl but now I see what everyone else claims to see. I notice her beauty, however flawed it may or may not be. I feel her pain and accept it. I want to tell her that tomorrow is going to be a new day, that she has another chance to be everything she sometimes knows she is....but I know she'll never hear me.

It's Just One Year

I'm strongly convinced that in a tough situation one of the best things you can do for yourself is have a good mantra. Whatever it may be, so long as it works for you and your situation. Have a fat ass? "Donuts are the devil". That may actually be a new one for me....But I'm falling off course here. from nearly the day Jude was born mine has been "It's just one year" . I know it's a terrible thing to wish time away from your baby's childhood but I was and sometimes still am desperate for an end to the stress. I kept thinking that babies are very needy and if I could just get to that point where he can move around and express what is wrong it would all be easier. Magically his first birthday would come and a weight would be lifted. Supermom would emerge from the hole she's been stuffed in and suddenly my baby would be happy all the time. He would never get sick, he would be equally attatched to his daddy as he is me. It's not that things havent gotten MUCH better but that year is one week away. It's just one week and nobody waved the magic wand. The fact of the matter is there is no wand because there is no problem. Well, except maybe me. I have wished away an entire year and while that time seemed like it was moving so slow at the time I look back now and it pains me that I didnt see how fast it was really going. So here we are amidst the party planning to celebrate just that one year. My new mantra? "It's just one life". I'm only going to get this one life, and I can only give each of my children one life.  If it kills me I have to find away to enjoy every moment of it because my one year of self pity is over. Children are children. The "easy" ones, and the not so easy ones. Jude may never be an easy kid. He may keep my grinding my teeth in frustration for the rest of my life, but from now on I'm not just going to wait for his life to pass me by. He's a perfect little life changing monster, and no matter how much you may hear me bitch, I wouldn't have it any other way.