La Revedere

Today I have no wisdom, in fact, I have few thoughts.  I feel very drained.  Drained and numb to a degree that I have not felt in a while.  Or I guess not not felt in awhile since by definition numbness is without feeling.  This week, like last week and the week before, Cole is working up north while I stay here at the apartment.  Here, with Jack, and all of our moving boxes and bins.  Moving is exhausting, and that is all I have to say.  In truth, I am numb because I am choosing to be numb.  I hate goodbyes, as previous posts would attest to.  I don't handle them well; at all.  Because I don't handle them well, some people might think I am cold, or I don't care.  This is very far from the truth.  The truth is if I were to allow the dam that holds all of my emotions and feelings at bay to break, I might break.  Change is a wonderful, beautiful, and adventurous thing.  Life, likewise, is much the same.
Change is a constant in life as life is ever changing, and so the cycle continues.

A very dear friend of mine once said, "If you hold too much to the past, or wish the present remained always, when your future comes you will be blind to its beauty."  We live life, and we go about each day doing the best that we can.  We come to love people, and to be loved in return.  We come to trust people, and thus become a trustworthy person ourselves.  I, as I am sure many do, get comfortable.  I get comfortable with my zone, with my people and my little trust circles.  Then, as the past has shown, when my future comes knocking I hide in the bathroom.  I pray for the future, I want it to come, but the second it arrives on my doorstep I want it to go away and come back another time.  It's not so much moving on, and forward that I hate.  I love looking forward to the future; moving forward for the future.  It's what gets left behind; it's who I leave behind.  I do.  I hate goodbyes.

Maybe one day I will be better at the tearful I love you's, we'll keep in touch always, don't forget to write or call moments.  Maybe not.  Maybe I will always have little holes in my heart when I am not in the presence of those that I love, and care about.  Maybe not.  All I know is that life is very precious.  Moments are very precious.  I learned long ago not to dwell on regrets.  Have I shown how much I truly cherish every friendship I have ever come to have?  No.  Do I take time out of my "busy schedule" to say I love you to every single person that I love?  Also.  No.  I just hope they somehow know; that somehow they will always know.

Well, here I am, sitting on a moving box, thinking of all the past "don't forget to call and write" moments I have had, and typing this.  Typing what I can't ever seem to fully express.  I hope you know who you are.  If you are reading this you are likely one such individual; someone that holds a part of me.  I hope you know that I love you, and even if I am horrible at showing it, or saying it, I hope you know.  I hope you will always know, regardless of what change happens to come through life, I hope you will always know.
And?  Don't forget to call, and write.
Or email.  Let's be honest, who write's letters anymore?

Oh, #%@$

It happened.  It finally, happened.  As a mother, your primary goal is to teach your children.  Not to simply teach them, however, but to teach them well.  Countless hours are spent reading, having one-sided conversations, flash cards, and looking through picture books in high hopes that your growing bundle of joy will speak.  Mom, dad, hi, up, down, please, thank you, go, and dog, among others, are usually the first words.  So cute.  They speak and you think, "Whoa!  You have a voice!"  They repeat what you say to them, and eventually learn how to use the word in context.  Well, today?  Today, I heard a very clear repetition of something that I will not forget anytime soon.

The day was relatively normal.  I got up to go to the gym, came home, ate breakfast with Jack, and then we commenced on our learning journey for the morning.  Read some books, play with toys, dance to music, chase each other around while giggling and so on.  I then realized that I needed to make a deposit to the bank.  So, I said, "Jack, please go get your shoes, we need to go somewhere."  Now, my little man doesn't really say much just yet (his first, and really only, word is uh-oh, which is fitting), but he certainly understands what I say to him.  He got his shoes, stood on his tippie toes to reach his jacket, and brought both to me.  He then sat down while I put his shoes on, and he helped to put his jacket on.  Out we went to the car.  Again, as usual, I put him into his car seat, gave him scout and proceeded to shut the door.  At the last second, I realized the car keys were in the back seat, and tried a superhuman move to get them before I shut the door.  I don't know what I was thinking, it just happened.  I slammed the door on my own hand, and the first word I said was "[insert offending swear word here]."  Okay, without a censor?
I said shit.

I don't swear very much, but when I do it's usually because I have just done something stupid that resulted in pain.  Door slam on hand was one such moment.  Flood back memories of countless hours of repetition on please, thank you, dad, mom, go, dog, cat.....what was that?  A very small voice came from the backseat of the car.  "Sthit."  I looked at Jack, and realized just how much he does understand.  I couldn't say "Jack!  Don't say that word!"  How hypocritical would that be?  Instead?  I started laughing.  Hysterically.  Talk about encouraging a bad habit, but I couldn't stop myself.  Jack continued.  "Sthit."  Maybe I should stop him...  "Jack?  Mommy made a mistake.  I did.  I made a mistake.  That's not a good word to say, and I shouldn't have said it.  Don't say that word buddy, okay?"  "Sthit."  Oh, dear.

Well, lesson learned.  Children are sponges.  Smart ones at that, as well.  Jack is stubborn when it comes to speaking, but the words he chooses to use fit a variety of situations.  "[Swear word]" is obviously one of them.  Hopefully it won't stick and maybe I shouldn't laugh, but honestly?
An 18 month old swearing with a slight lisp is downright hilarious.

Shriggle

It's simple.  There is a moment, a moment where you softly giggle to yourself while shaking your head and shrugging.  Why?  Well, you shake your head and shrug out of confusion, shock, or disbelief, and you giggle because of the same.  The shriggle.  You may be doing it now, reading this post.  Smiling to yourself, laughing softly and shrugging because although what I just said really does make sense, it's silly.  It's a reaction, and a simple one.  Body language, baby.  Your body speaks without saying a single word.

So the shriggle.  Someone comes up to you and says "Hey hottie, wanna dance?"  This particular individual is, to be delicate, without the physical attributes that typically interest you.  Confused?  Bluntly, they are not good looking.  Ugly.  Most will politely say "no, thank you."  Some might say yes out of pity.  Either way, when the said not-so-hottie is gone, you will likely look to your friends, or whoever you are with, and shriggle.  Shake your head, shrug your shoulders, and giggle.  Did not-so-hottie really think they had a shot?  Shriggle...
You did it.  I know you did.  I've done it.  When I have been working outside all day, then realize I need something for dinner, I often leave the house without my wedding ring.  I shriggle at people that use frozen food as a means to flirt.  "Whoa, that pizza is really good, do you like pizza?"  Why yes, I do, and so does my husband.

Now, I am not saying that you shriggle simply when it comes to relationships.  The shriggle comes in many forms.  It comes out of nowhere, and often without warning.  The giggle might be one of total amazement as some old lady goes racing by you on the freeway, then cuts you off whilst giving the finger (it's happened.)  "What the?!"  "Did you see..."  Mouth open, half laugh, shake the head; shriggle.  Crazy old lady.
Or this shriggle.  The one that comes when someone you know, and love, does something really funny, but really dumb.  "Hey sis!  Watch me jump off this two story roof, but fall into that bush instead of my intended target."  Famous words big brother.  Famous.
It comes every day in one way or another.  We laugh at things, and somehow lose the ability to find any words to define what we are thinking.  So when such a moment arises, because it will, and with children it comes daily (sometimes even hourly) remember the shriggle.  The moment where you find yourself laughing, and shaking your head, or shrugging those shoulders; just go with it.

Um?  Jack?  Where are your pants?......Ah...the toilet.  That's new.  Yes, they were dirty, but this is the worst place to wash them, okay?
...Shriggle

Confessions

Dear God,
I was just sitting here, at the kitchen table, thinking.  I was thinking about life in general, and the process of it.  The process of decision making, then wondering if what I think is best is also what you think is best.  I watched as my son played with his toys, then wondered if you feel the same way I do as you watch me here on earth.  I know some people don't believe in you, some are angry with you, others are searching for you, some have found you, and others cling to you.

Which am I?  Which of those people am I?  Well, most of them I suppose.  I don't question your existence anymore, though there was a time I did.  I have been angry with you because I felt it was your fault I felt the way I did at times.  I search for you a lot, and in everything.  I have found pieces of you, bits of you.  I know you are there as a whole, but I know I will spend the rest of my life discovering who you are.
Then there are days like today.  Days where I cling to you.  Days where I need you.  I couldn't tell you why, or what exactly roots these emotions I feel, I just know I need you right now.  You are God.  You are my God.  You are the Father.  You are my Father.  I need you right now.  I need you always; though I forget that at times.  Sometimes I ignore you, or I think I can figure things out on my own.  Sometimes I turn my back on you, and sometimes I let you go.  Sometimes?  Sometimes I forget about you.  Granted, you are always somewhere in my mind and heart, but you get hidden as I go about the day to day routine.

My son is talking to me right now.  Well, he doesn't really talk yet, he just kind of babbles.  I love it when he talks to me; when he babbles to me.  But I also love it when he sits with me, and we just are.  You created me, so it's only logical that you are the same.  That you love it when I babble on about my life to you, or if I just sit and think about you, and we just are.  This right now?  This is me babbling; going on and on about the seemingly trivial things I feel are important.
Things that matter, if to no one else but me.
Simply put I am scared; scared to take that step forward.  I don't know what is ahead, and every lesson in faith tells me to step forward knowing you will catch me; knowing everything will be alright.  I have faith; I know it will all work out as it should.  I know, but I wonder if what I know is enough.

Maybe I just need to sit; maybe I just need to be.  Maybe the faith that I have is enough, and who I am is enough.  I am hard on myself, it's true, but who isn't?  Reminders of assurance are good things to have, and perhaps that's what today is.  Reassurance that though I make mistakes, and I do not babble to you enough, you still love me.  You always love me....
I am just going to sit now.  I am going to sit and imagine you sitting next to me.  Nothing needs to be said; nothing needs to be done.  You are here.  You are with me, and that's all that matters.

 

Roll With It

When I was pregnant, my doctors constantly gave me tips on how to ward off water weight. With that, they also gave me tips on staying active, and exercising, eating right etc etc. Once Jack was born, I got advice on how to get rid of the "baby fat." Breast feeding, among other things, was a huge help in dropping off those rolls. Now that the holidays are over, and I have sufficiently gorged myself with goodies, I found myself looking at rolls again in the mirror. Don't get me wrong, I am quite happy with who I am, fit or not. I like to be fit, who doesn't, you feel pretty darn good about yourself when you are.

Anyway, while I was staring at my little inner tube I thought "well, I know I like cookies, and I really should exercise more, it's true." Then the kicker. When? I received all this advice, and help throughout pregnancy and through about year one, but what about now. What about the "toddler fat?" The fat that comes because of many reasons; a husband in school, who also works, and trying to put both him and the little guy first often leaves little time for you know who. You. Or me. The self.

Well, today I discovered a few reasons why I find it difficult to exercise. One? It's cold and running outside is for nutties (even though I did it tonight out of desperation. ) Two? Money. It's kind of essential for gym memberships, or exercise stuff, or zumba, p90x etc etc etc. The lack thereof leaves you with a 23 lb toddler to use as weights, and a 700 sq ft apartment to run around in. Isn't staying fit fun?

Then? Then there is that little person. That little person you give all of your time and energy to in hopes that when the day comes for him to go out on his own, you know he will be okay because you did your best. Whatever that best entails, you gave it. Today, I wondered where my best went as, upon entering Jack's room to get him up from his nap, he was naked. Totally, and completely, naked. The pants, the shirt, and yes the diaper, had all somehow found a way off of him. He was wet, the bed was wet, and both were wet for the exact reason you are thinking. Oh the joys of being a mother, and a stay at home one to boot. Like I said; toddler weight.

I think I am going to go and eat some cookie dough now, and watch something mindless because I can. I can go with the flow, and take in the silence; rolls and all.

Bedtime is beautiful, and so is my inner tube :)

Peace In Parting

Once in awhile, a light comes amidst the darkness of life. Illuminating the path it travels, this light continually covers its surroundings with hope, with peace, and ultimately, with joy. The laughter in moments shared, tears for time passed, and love for the memories locked within the soul. Moments and memories are essentially what becomes of each life. As the time passes, as the laughter is remembered, we come to understand that individually we are all meant to become that light within life. To shine in corners of darkness, to change the winters to spring, and illuminate the good within others...

There is little to be written of death that is not already present in poetry, books, and musical lyrics.  Many have felt the sting that is death; that emptiness associated with parting.  I didn't understand the depth that is passing on until I was older; until experience taught me about the gift that is life.  Growing up, I always knew about Grandpa Jack; I heard stories.  A father of 7 children.  A loving husband.  My son Jack is named after this man.  He died suddenly when my own mother was 8 years old.  What I know of him is felt in presence from the love that others portray for him.  He was a good man.  A loving man.

There are others who have parted with this life; others known now only in memory.  I know of many.  Many who touched lives in ways no other mortal could.  Others that are missed.  Those whose company we ever long to be in again.  Death is experienced as a part of life.  The cyclical rounds that are mortality are inevitable.  We are born, we grow through adulthood, and into old age.  Some don't make it that far.  Some don't make it very far at all.  I often look at Jack, my Jack, and find my throat swollen with emotion at the thought of losing him.  Losing any loved ones.  We move on, it's true.  We eventually find peace, and learn to cope without.  We pass through the stages of grief, pick ourselves up, and move forward.  Eventually....
I can recall countless images of knees falling to the earth in front of tombstones, or hands on caskets, and tears beyond count; my own included.  Our physical strength is lost as we fall, and the only words we can utter are "I miss you."  I miss you.

Life is precious.  So precious.  The holidays are often a time of remembrance.  A time to stop and think; to think on how blessed we are.  Well, the holidays are gone now.  It's a new year.  Another year.  Do you ever wonder if this year will be your last?  This day.  Next week.  Or if it will be another's last?  Countless emails are forwarded to remind us to say I love you, and to be kind.  They tell stories of hope, sometimes of regret, as loved ones pass on.  No one can know ahead of time when that goodbye will be.  No one can know.
All we know is what we can do now.  We can live, and we can love. We can laugh, and we can remember.  We can exist in such a way so that any moment lived will be a moment worth remembering.
"Live, laugh, love."

Secrets of Mind Reading

I can read your mind.  I can.  I am that good.  I can tell you exactly what you are thinking.  But first?  I need a hint.  Scratch that, I need a lot of hints.  Hmmm.  Scratch that too.  Just tell me what you're thinking, because I lied, I don't know.  I could guess?  OOOO!  I know.  Let's play a game.  Guess what I'm thinking?  Oh, right, I was going to guess what you're thinking.  .....Or we could just talk about it...

Ah.  "Guess what I'm thinking?" It's a game; a game I used to play on road trips with my family when I was a kid.  We would be driving down the road, bored as bored can be, and randomly one of us (usually my older brother) would suddenly shout, "Guess what I'm thinking?"  We rarely guessed it without multiple clues, and hints to the very specific thing he happened to be thinking about.  I find that game to be all too exemplary of real life.  A life spent in talking, and listening, but more so in not talking, and guessing.  In giving physical cues to intrinsic wants.  In hoping someone notices your emotions, then guesses correctly the reasons for their origin.

We all like it when people listen, but sometimes, we find it hard to talk.  It would be nice if everyone were impeccable mind readers, and they just knew what was in our mind.  Instead?  We are silent, and not always because our thoughts are blank.  We fear judgement.  We fear retribution.  We turn our thoughts over and over hoping the problems and questions will both fix and answer themselves. We seek advice; sometimes we ache for it. We know there are times where our experiences, or knowledge, don't answer the questions in our heads.  Why can't the right person just read our minds?  Well, it's simple.  The X-Men are fictional, psychic's are usually just excellent observationalists, not supreme mind readers, and life is meant to be full of lessons.

So if your mind is full of things, things you wish other people would just know; try telling them.  Talk.  If you find it hard to express yourself in spoken word, try writing.  The bottom line?  Express yourself.  Face it, not everyone is really good at observing everything you do.  And it's true, not everyone is really good at listening. But everyone longs to be heard, or noticed.  We are a world of horrible communication.  We assume, and as my high school track coach says "To assume just makes an ass out of you and me."  Talk.  Share.  Listen.  Be talked to.  Be listened to.
Stop expecting your mind to be read, and read it aloud instead.