It's the Matter

Today I have been thinking about family a great deal.  Family, you love them, yeah?  Particularly your crazy siblings.  Each of them came from the same halves to make a whole, and yet each whole is so very different.   But?  You love them no matter what.  It is true that no one can really make you more frustrated, but it is also true that no one can make you feel so complete.  Growing up my family was very close.  My older brother and I were constantly in trouble (luckily, he almost always took the heat...which is fair...he had the brilliant idea to begin with.) My younger brother and I had the best imaginations, and I might argue that we still do.  (Twin, he is my twin.)  And my sister?  She is my sister.  Little can be said of the relationship one has with their sister.  She is that kindred heart that steals your clothes, and makes you pee your pants laughing.

One may wonder why family?  To begin, family is really all that matters.  To love and be loved, to share emotions and thoughts with another, and have someone do the same with you.  It is true that life takes everyone along very different paths.  

For instance, my big bro is a body builder.  I for one did not see that coming from the string bean, mid-waist pant wearing, socks to the knees little boy I jumped off the roof with.  And yet?  Here he is.  My big, big brother.  Whom I affectionately refer to as Tubby.  :)

Then there is Matt Matt.  The dancer.  The amazing, crazy, fun loving little brother whom I love more than words can express.  I miss him :(  He is halfway around the world on a ship right now, dancing away to crowds of tourists.  My twin :)  

    

Then?  There is my Sissy.  My one and only, Sis.  She and I are so very, very much alike.  She is in another part of the country, striking her own way in a world that often tells you "it can't be done."  She is beautiful, and wonderful, and she is my Sissy :)  

There is something about each of them, something that cannot be defined.  Like I said, two halves of a whole.  Individual in our own ways, and yet strikingly similar.  As it seems, I am sentimental this morning.  As that is, I could go on for a very long time about my family, and not just my own parents, and brothers, and sister.  My own little family.  Cole and Jack.  Growing up we don't really realize what we have in our family.  We find ourselves fighting more than we do laughing, but as age comes, the fighting ceases, and the laughing increases.  With age comes wisdom, or so they say.  I believe it to be true, at least in a way.  I know now what my parents felt watching us grow.  Perhaps not entirely so, but to a degree.  

That's what life is all about anyway, isn't it?  Degrees.  We find wisdom and strength in something, we come to master it, and we move to the next step.  Sometimes we get stuck on a certain step, but patience brings with it vast amounts of experience. 

Wisdom, and learning.  That's what life is about. And that bottom line?  The end all be all?   

Families matter most. 

And that's all that matters. 

   

Consider the Sun

So.  Pregnancy?  It's hard.  I didn't necessarily forget how physically demanding it can be, as many have claimed may happen. The bottom line is that this round has been much more difficult than the first round.  I have heard all the momma sayings, and I know, I know, and I know.  Now, why would someone who considers herself to be an optimist start a post so not optimistically?  Keep reading.

To begin, I will simply say that morning sickness can be the equivalent of hell on earth.  And "morning" does not indicate that the ick feeling subsides once 11 rolls around.  Oh, no.  It's a lie of a phrase morning sickness is, but since the majority of women have it in the morning, they categorize the nasty to indicate such.  Anyway, now to be frank, I will admit that a very dark side of me emerged a midst the ick.  The toilet saw it, my husband saw it, and occasionally other people saw it.  I felt useless, I felt wasted, and I felt as though death itself was somehow embodied in the little growing plumb inside me.  I know a few others who's mental and physical state were worse through the first trimester, and I have found a great deal of strength from them.  The "if they can do it I can do it!" moments.  I owe them a lot, I do, and I hope they know who they are.

Well, since the glass has now been drunk, and you see it's half gone, I will ask, is it half full?  Or half empty?  Two weeks ago I may have thrown every food I wanted to eat but couldn't in your face whilst crying if you asked me that question.  But now?  Well, it's true.  It is half full and it always has been.  I just haven't allowed myself to see it as such.
Now, "morning" sickness doesn't bring out a bad side in everyone.  In fact, some go through what may be deemed a much greater trial than what I have felt in mine with a far greater amount of grace.  The facts in life are always facts, but the opinions of life are supposed to be changed from time to time.  My opinion that nothing could possibly be worth being this sick was changed with something very simple.  A sunny day.

Now.  I am not saying a nice spring like day will brighten everyone's mood no matter their circumstance, but for me I began thinking a great deal about why I wasn't handling what I was going through as well as I could have.  Or?  As well as I should have.  Granted, very few people find it easy to go day by day without eating, and throwing up a lot, but that's not the point.  The point is how I allowed myself to become bitter about it.  It was like a battle of the brain.  One side said, "Oh, it's okay, it will be okay one day."  And that was echoed by others'.  The problem with that?  It bothered me.  It still does to an extent.  I know.  I know it will all be okay.  I know I will be okay.  I KNOW that already, but knowing that doesn't help me right now, right here, in this small moment of absolute weakness.  So if knowing something doesn't always help, what does?
Simple.
Remembering that you know.

We all have moments of absolutes.  We feel we absolutely cannot see a way out of a mess, or absolutely do not understand when things will start to look up.  We absolutely cannot go on another day as we absolutely have nothing left.  It is in our absolutes that we find the most bitter tears, the greatest amount of helplessness, and the absolute feeling of being alone.  But then?  There is that sun, and yes, that sun has a double meaning.  It somehow finds its way into days of endless snow storms.  It manages to take weeks, months, or years of heartache and melt them away.  We still feel what we felt, but the warmth that illuminates a new resolution cannot be cooled.  It is always there, even when the clouds cover the warmth, it is always, always there.
Behind the snow storms and rain storms; behind every storm of every kind, regardless of intensity, the sun is always there.  There, waiting to shine on you again.  Waiting to warm you up.

No, the morning ick isn't done with.  Subsided some, yes.  Oh, but let me tell you something.
It is much easier to deal with when I let the sun in.  Yes that warm, wonderful sun.
There is just something about it.
Something about the Son.

You Are

I was writing in my journal just now, and I started thinking about my blog.  I thought, "Hmm, I really need to update that more."  Then it dawned on me.  I don't update.  I don't like to.  I am not an "update" writer.  I don't like to put down dates, stating what happened, when, how, or why it happened, and how I felt about it.  I do that sometimes, but truthfully when I write, I think.  Updates are simply moments that are copied and pasted from your brain to another form of memory bank.  A computer, a journal, a scrapbook.  Many such persons are good at that; I am not such a person.

Truthfully, I wish I could convey what I was thinking now through a form of visual art.  A painting perhaps, or a sketch.  But, as evidenced in posts past, I am not very skilled in that area.  I do my best to speak what is on my mind, and in my heart, but often times I flop out a joke, or otherwise stumble over what needs to be said.  I suppose I will begin by saying something about finding our greatest potential, and living true to whatever that may be.  In turn, I will begin with a story.

The holidays came and left, as did family.  A certain uncle of mine (whom I absolutely love even if he is quirky), and I spent a few hours just talking.  We touched on a variety of subjects, and one of them happened upon personality traits.  Said uncle went on to say that based on observation, he concluded that I would do very well in a job that caused stress; a job that pushed limits and required working quickly under pressure.  Aka, said above uncle, "Something in sales, or the medical profession.  Or, well, hey, motherhood."  Ha.  Motherhood, indeed, quirky, lovable uncle.  Motherhood.  Indeed.

I came home after that conversation with a lot on my mind, and Jack was among the lot.  As a mother, you do your very best to work well under the pressures associated with raising little ones.  I know many women who are far better qualified for the position of being a mother than I.  It pushes you to your highest limits, then it pushes you beyond them.  Frazzled, and often exhausted, we do what we know the best we can.  Advice is often welcome, all be it at times, annoying.  There are days when pajamas are the wardrobe of choice, attractive as they are, and days where a shower isn't an option until bedtime, if it's an option at all.  Some days the mirror before us shows a very disheveled, emotional, and in our own personal opinion, not very attractive looking, individual.

The point of this post is a simple one.  As a mother, and really in life period, we give everything we have, and more, to what is around us.  We give our best every day, and at the end of every day one of two things happen.  After we have overcome the exhaustion, and the stress of it all, a part inside us wonders if what was given really was all that could be given; or we end the day screaming inside that we cannot do anymore.

Life is exhausting.  Personally I cannot say that I have entirely silenced my own voice of inner doubt.  Some days it is very quiet, and the self assurance I feel concerning my life is solid.  Other days, it is harder to quiet my mind.  Regardless of which day today happened to be, one thing is certain.  In the eyes of heaven, and earth, sometimes the best that can be given is all that is needed, whatever that best entails.  If we are screaming at the end of the day, pleading for a greater inner strength, then tomorrow we will find it.  A very simple truth is found in this exhausting life; we are never left to our own devices.  We are never left to be the best we can on our own.  As days, or weeks, or even months of struggle may pass, the truth in the hardship is that they will indeed pass.  In the eyes of heaven we are wonderful, refined, and divine.
We are precious, and we always will be.

Shower Fat

This summer is what I like to refer to as "fat summer."  I didn't exercise nearly as much as I should have, nor did I really pay attention to what went into my belly, and in turn, onto my butt.  I didn't gain much weight.  In fact, it's the "only-you-will-notice-it-when-you-are-naked-looking-in-the-mirror-after-you-have-showered" fatness.  The shower feeling.  The one where you get out, and look at all the pudges, grabbing some portions of what were once finely toned muscle and thinking,
"Hmmmm.  That's. Not. Attractive."

We are our own worst critic, and I know that I am far too critical of myself, and probably far too often.  Enter life's lesson number I don't know what thousand.  "Just do the best you can."  Okay.  Well.  Shoot.  Let me put it this way.  When I used to work, I got performance evaluations all the time.  Areas within which I could excel were pointed out, and weaknesses I had in my job were addressed.  I got raises if I did better, or worked harder.  Well, my "job" is now Jack.  And my performance evaluations?  I am the one giving them, and I am the one receiving them.  Only I see how I am with the little guy every hour, of every day.  It's a fact that Jack enrolled me in the senior capstone of the Parenting BA instead of Parenting 101, but regardless of how difficult he can get, I find myself wondering why I run one direction when I need to slowly move towards a better goal.  My performance eval's of late are ranking low.  Really low.  A part of me knows that it's "just that stage," but another part of me also knows that I am not giving it my best.  Sometimes the computer, among other meaningless tasks, takes precedence. 
Basically?  I am seeing the shower fat that no one else really knows is there.

Well, here's your self-esteem.  Take it.  Love it.  Feed it.  Lately?  I haven't been feeding mine.  I haven't been feeding the most important part of myself.  My heart.  I take every day in stride, but every day I find myself wondering what I should have done better; how I could have done better.  It's true we need to give ourselves credit for the things we do accomplish.  We need to be proud of who we are, and where we are.  However.  It is also true that we need to work on those things that need some fine tuning.  That shower fat.  Those parts of ourselves that aren't the best that they can be, if for little other reason than our own laziness.  In truth?  We are doing wonderfully, and we can still be better.

It's a fantastic reality.  No matter how well we are doing, there is always room for growth; always shower fat to trim.  Some days I feel like moving to Italy, and gorging every desire I ever had in food, thus encouraging, and even increasing the fat I see in the mirror.  Sometimes it would be so much easier to give in; to let go.  But then where would I be?  Well, I can guarantee my shower flub would be quite a bit more noticeable to many besides my bathroom mirror.  No.  I am better than that.  We are better than that.  I can be, and need to be, better than I was yesterday.  Better than I was today.  Every day will bring new challenges.  Every day will bring new victories.  Every day is a new day to grow.  A new day to learn.  A new day to change for the better; to be and do more.  "Just do the best that you can."
It's true.  Just make sure it is, indeed, your best.  If it is?  Then you are doing wonderfully.
And you can still be better.

Mostly Great

Whoa.  I guess I will first apologize for my lack of writing all summer.  Sure, there are like, two entries.....  Needless to say we have been really busy this summer.  This summer?  Let me tell you, it was fantastic.  Since I was thirteen I cannot remember a summer that I played so much!  To begin, we started the summer with a move.  The move was supposed to be to Mom and Pop Cooper's, then to PA.  Well, those plans changed.  We moved to Mom and Pop's over Memorial Day weekend in May.  Living there was amazing.  It was difficult as much of our things were in storage for four months, but it was fantastic.  We lived up the road from a lake, and down a trail from the mountain.  Hello swimming, hiking, biking and lounging in nature! 

Other things this summer included trips to Moab, Arches, Blanding, Lake Powell, Bear Lake, and Capitol Reef (twice :)), and the little man's big 2 birthday.  Like I said.  Busy, awesome, summer.  Plus!  Cole didn't have to go back into "stress out" mode with the start of school.  Yay!  Now here we are, having moved again; this time to South Ogden.  All our things are back out of storage, we are "settled" to a certain degree, and we are all doing great.

Sigh.  Okay.  Not "great."  Mostly great.  Don't get me wrong.  Life?  It's not something that should be "complained" about.  We all have frustrations, and setbacks; things we feel the need to talk about, and work through.  Whether on our own, or with the help of others.  I watched Soul Surfer last night (if you haven't seen it, watch it).  It was a very good movie.  One of those "here, put your life into perspective" movies.  Lately the little one and I have been on boxing terms.  He is in one end of the ring ready to duke out his way, and I am in the other nursing bloody noses and scrapes, attempting to duke out my way.  Every day holds another relentless battle, and every night I never quite come down from the stress level felt trying to keep up with him.  It's life, yes?  Part of being a parent, and part of teaching your children whilst learning from them at the same time.

Every life experience I have ever come to have hasn't taught me what Jack has.  It never could have.  No lesson in patience is as extensive as the kind that comes from a two year old who has learned "No" and utlilizes the use of said word throughout the day.  Flipsided, no lesson in clarity can compare to that of a two year old who has discovered how to say "Love You," with these soft, sparkling, brown eyes that penetrate a piece of your soul you didn't know existed until they came into your life.  For lack of a better way to say it, Jack frustrates the hell out of me.  However, the simplicity of language could never express how much I would do for him, and how deeply I love and appreciate the little lessons in life he gives me. 

So I am.  We are, mostly great.  No day goes by without something to "discuss" or some life's lesson to find understanding in.  Every day brings immense joy, sometimes frustration and hurt, and sometimes sorrow.  Every day we learn together, and we grow together.
No, every day isn't great, but almost every day is mostly great. 
And for that?
I am grateful.    

Go Live

So.  I have been thinking.  It happens.  Sometimes.  Anyway, I have been thinking about dreams.  Not the nutty kind that you have about trains, and alligators when you eat something weird, or take a sedative, but the real kind.  The tangible kind.  The kind that you imgaine when you are little, and hope that somehow they are really going to happen.  I am a dreamer.  I am, I won't deny it.  I get hit with the reality stick a lot when life says, "This is just how it goes Sis, sorry."  Ouch.  Well, clearly the bruises don't last, because the very next moment I am dreaming again, and wondering how I can make my dreams come true. 

Today, for example, I am sitting at my moms kitchen table thinking about the future, and what I want out of it.  My mom lives in the country.  It's beautiful here.  I never knew how much I desired the simple life until I got a taste of what it's like.  Now I want the full meal.  The house surrounded by trees, and tons of land.  The imagination that comes from building pirate ships out of cardboard then floating them down the river in the backyard.  Gardening.  Baking old fashioned pies and finding the perfect crust on accident; then winning the blue ribbon for best pie in the valley.  I don't want much, but what I do want isn't the easiest thing to come by.
I want the simple life.  The hard working, simple, life.

Life, I believe, should be easy going.  Not fast paced all the time, but not slow.  Somehere in the middle with bouts of the extreme degrees every now and again.  There is just something alluring to me about the "wild west."  The need for stability in adventure, and a calmness that can be found only in nature.  Dreams.  Lots of dreams.  I know exactly how I want that little 'house on the prairie' to look like.  I can visualize every tiny detail.  Then the reality stick.  Cole doesn't have a job.  Where will you build it?  And oh.  With what money?  Hmm Jess?  Did you think about that? 

Of course I did.  My little house fund is just that, little, but it's a start, isn't it mister stick?  Yes, I do believe it is.  Little voices, sometimes big voices, try to silence dreams.  Reality does it too.  Sometimes reality doesn't just silence the dream though, sometimes our fleeting thoughts of wonderful are simply squashed.  Destroyed.  And for what?  Car payments.  Insurance.  Blah.  Many would argue the lack of following our hearts desires ends in one word; responsibility.  Dreams are destroyed by responsibility. 
Well, I'm no Cinderalla's godmother, and the flickage of a wand isn't going to bring about any miracles.  No, no fluff, no magic, but the truth behind making a dream come true is a very simple one.  Not easy, but simple.

Dreams come true with dedication, with work, and with utilizing our very own talents and skills.  Aka?  Being responsible.  The same word we use when referring to why our dreams can't come true is the very way to bring them to fruition; even Disney would agree with me there.  The greatest things are built from an idea, a desire, and an imagination.  Dreams come true if we want them to. 
If you can dream it, you can do it.  So go.  Dream.  Do.
"Don't tell me what I can't do."

Be Best; You

Every day brings with it different frustrations.  Personally, I have made a discovery.  Nearly every frustration I have felt in the past year and 10 months tends to encompass a single word; Jack.  I never imagined that my life could be so focused on a single thing.  Every day is dedicated to him.  From the moment I wake up, to the moment he goes to bed, I am usually with him.  My life revolves around that one little word.  That one little person.  Jack.
I never knew the conditions of motherhood.  I thought I did.  Watching my mom, and other moms, one would think that an educated perspective in raising a child, and in turn being a mother, could be obtained through observation alone. 
Clearly not so.

This last weekend Cole and I ran RAGNAR.  It was fun, but I will never do it again.  A?  Anyone that pays money to run a race through the night, thus giving up sleep willingly, should be classified clinically insane.  B?  I got really tired of power bars and gatorade.  And C?  I missed Jack, and I missed him a lot.  It's funny how when you get too much of something, you want little else but to do something else.  Likewise, when you get too little of something, all you want is to do what you are getting little of.  Aka?  I was getting too little of my little man, and I wanted lots of him.  I am his mother, so I am partial to liking him, even if he is approaching the terrible two's and my patience with his tantrums runs rather thin, rather quickly.

Ragardless of his little faults, which in truth are just a part of growing up, I can't help but melt.  Last night was an example of my mushiness.  I went into his room to put him back in his bed (since he got his toddler bed, he tends to fall asleep next to the door as compared to his bed most of the time.)  Anyway, as I went to lay him back in his bed, I instead decided to sit on the little couch in his room and just hold him.  To be still, and in that stillness, hold him.  I sat in his room with him cuddled up in his blanket in my arms, and watched him sleep.  I can't tell you how many thoughts and emotions ran through my heart and mind within the span of five minutes, but I can tell you I was reminded why I wanted to be a mother so much.  Little else matters, I can tell you that.

Every day brings with it thoughts of inadequacy.  We wonder if what we are doing is right, if how we are doing it is right, and if where we are going, and who we are being, is right.  We are constantly putting ourselves in check within our own lives.  It is said that we are our own worst critic, and for better or worse, that's all too true.  We all have a calling in life.  Something we know we will be really, really fantastic at with the help of a higher power.  I forget mine a lot; too much in fact.  But last night?  Last night I was reminded of a very sincere, very humbling, and very wonderful truth.
My calling?  I am a mother, and I am a dang good one.

One day I know I will wonder where all the time went, and how I let it slip by so quickly.  One day I will watch Jack as a grown man, and wish I could hold him in his room while he slept just one more time.  Well.  That's one day.
For today?  For today I get to handle tantrums, messes, and a little boy who is discovering the world around him.  For today, I am a mother.  Tomorrow, I am a mother.  I am, and will always be, mom.
And I love it.