Daily Archives: January 17, 2011
I often stop. At the top that is. You have your crazy naysayers, who say that if you stop for more than *x* amount of minutes on a run then it really doesn’t count as a continuous run. Whatever, is what I say to that. Once you run to the top of this climb, how could you not stop? Once you get up there and you turn around and look at where you just came from, it kind of takes your breathe away. Open fields on both sides and a deafening silence that you don’t get just anywhere. No cars and no people. I tend to feel a little closer to the sky up here. Sometimes I sit down and take it all in. How could I not? I see hawks flying about and little bluebirds dancing in and out of the tall grasses.
On a windy day if you listen hard you can hear the gentle song of the wind blowing through the grass. The key is listening..most of the time we spend too much time talking..and not enough time listening.
Me with a daughter?! Who would have thought? I didn’t have the first clue about raising a little girl, after all, my relationship with my mother was..well..let’s not go there right now.
Oh boy, was I ever deathly sick with you when I was pregnant. Sick is an understatement! I was bed ridden for the first 5 months of my pregnancy and I hardly thought I would ever get better. I had a very intimate relationship with the hospital and the toilet for those first few months. People used to tell me that women tend to get sicker with girls than with boys, and all I could think of was, “Is this a peek into my future?”. A girl. How does one successfully raise a girl in this day and age?
Little girls can be difficult at best on some days. Little girls will test your mental fortitude and make you question yourself in every way possible on other days. Little girls are subject to mood changes at any given time of the day or night, little girls will often leave you feeling like a deer caught in headlights, but mostly little girls will always let you know where you stand in their lives at any given moment. If they are talking to you, relish it, drink it up and hold onto that moment in time, because at the drop of a pin, that could all change from one moment to the next. Some mornings when you wake up, it takes me a minute to figure out if I should say good-morning or anything at all.
My little girl is gorgeous. Deep dark eyes and deep dark long flowing hair. Porcelain skin and strong facial features with a deep set dimple right in the center of her chin. I look at her and I see myself, I see myself in her mannerisms and unfortunately I see me in her many mood swings! She definitely is her mother’s child. My poor husband.
She loves to touch me, I often find her stroking my arm, or just running her hands down my legs if she is sitting next to me and I catch her staring at me a lot, I can’t help but wonder what is going through her head. She loves me, that is clear. She hates to see me upset and it terrifies her to see me crying or feeling sad. She cries when I cry. She is my clone. She is sensitive and moody and silly. She loves like something fierce and is very protective of those that she does love. She is sensitive and fragile, yet she is tough when she needs to be. She will tell you that she is angry with you, but what she really wants is for you to hold her and stroke her hair and tell her how much you love her.
I want to protect her and I want to be everything to her that my mother never was to me. I want her to always feel my love for her, I want her to grow up confident and strong, yet kind and empathetic. I want her to always feel secure in who she is and I want her to know that beauty is only skin deep. I want her to know that true beauty comes from deep inside and that she must always love herself for who she is on the inside and not on the outside. I want her to know that she is unique and wonderful and lovely. I want her to know that her laugh is contagious and her smile lights up whatever room she is in. That she is funny and witty and charming. That anyone who is a part of her life is very fortunate and lucky.
I don’t want her to waste her time on anyone that does not respect her and love her for who she is. I want her to always stand tall and never back down to what her convictions and beliefs are in her life. I want her to be a leader and not a follower. To always stand up for the little man when no one else will.
But most of all, I want her to never forget where she came from. We will always be her cheerleaders and we will always be here when she needs us. I want her to know how much I love her..I love her to the point that it makes my heart ache. When I close my eyes I will always smell the sweetness of her skin and see her smile in my mind. She will always be her mother and father’s baby girl.
When I found out I was pregnant with you, I nearly fell out of my chair. I thought of all the reasons why this couldn’t be. You certainly weren’t planned and honestly, I was not sure how we would pull it off. It took me hours to figure out how I would tell your father, and I was terrified. We already had two babies running around the house, and why, how could we possibly take care of another?
I should have known that God had other plans for us.
As time went on and we adjusted to the fact that we would once again be bringing a tiny baby into our chaotic world, I began to fantasize about you. What would you look like? Would you be a boy or a girl? But mostly, good Lord, how were we going to do it?!
My pregnancy was pretty uneventful and quite honestly it went by way too fast! I was so busy trying to care for your brother and sister, I hardly had time to focus on actually being pregnant (If I could go back, I would..trust me I would. I would relish every last kick from your little feet against my big belly). By the end of 9 months, I was more than ready for you to make your appearance! “Come out! You need to come out now!”
The day I met you for the first time, I was madly and crazy in love with you. You had deep dark eyes and a round little face. You looked up at me and all I could think of was, your mine and I love you. You nursed from me almost instantly and little did I know that that would be the first day of a 2 year long relationship, that I would miss once it was gone. That was our time, our quiet time where I could sit and stare into your thirsty little eyes and know that at that moment, I was meeting all your needs. At those moments, there was nobody else in the room except for me and you..you and your deep dark soulful eyes. Nobody else could claim that sort of connection to you, but me..your mother.
As time went on and you grew, your father and I fell more and more in love with you. You were such a handful, but anything that you did was quickly replaced by doting and kissing. I could hardly go back and remember how scared we were when we found out you were coming. How could you not have come into our lives? The thought of that seems so foreign to us now. You belong here, you always have..you were meant to be here with us.
You have a personality that is like no other. Your a Minnie me version of your daddy. All I have to do is close my eyes and listen to you and your off the cuff comments and know, that of course your your father’s child! I can look at you from across the table and see all of his features in your face..your father could never deny you! Nor would he want to, but the resemblance is so strong. He loves you..your his sunshine on a cloudy day and your his pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Your such a little man, where has the time gone? I hope the day never comes when you don’t lay in bed with me at night and tell me how much you love me. I’ll miss the times that you look into my eyes and say “Mommy, I love you so much”. When your sad or upset, you always seek me out, because you know that I will soothe your pain and take away your hurt. I will brush your soft cheek with my hand and tell you that it will be okay. I will hold you until that last tear falls and I will sit with you until you feel safe. You will always be my baby, always.
If there ever comes a day when you will have to take care of me..I will still look up at you and think..”Yes, he is my baby indeed”.
Seriously folks, is it too much to ask to pick up the phone and talk to someone? It seems as if the norm anymore is to just text someone. Where is the personality in that? Where is the human emotion in it? I’m sorry, I just don’t get it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a texter,but I’m not a texter like some people I know.
Where do you draw the line? When did it become so hard to pick up the phone and actually talk to someone. Have we as a whole forgotten how to do that? If someone tells you they are having a bad day, or even tells you about something amazing that has happened to them in their life, why not just pick up the phone and call them? Where is the heart felt meaning in a text that says “I’m so sorry, what can I do for you?” or “Congratulations! I’m happy for you”. It took you all of 10 seconds to type that and there could not have been very much emotion in involved in that. I mean, is your life THAT busy that actually dialing my number is that far fetched?
Sometimes I get busy and texting is just easier. Sometimes I have so much going on that I’d much rather text you because it’s all I have time for, and well…calling you would take too much time and effort. There are times when I really don’t want to show any emotion at all and the mere thought of having to act like I care is too much to bear, because an actual phone conversation would mean..gasp..I’d actually have to talk to the other person on the phone and inject some sort of care to said person. Don’t get me wrong, I have my days where I love a good phone conversation, but then there are those days where the sound of my phone ringing sends me walking in the other direction. I know I know..Kettle meet pot.
Anyway, aside from ALL that, there are times when it just is necessary to pick up the phone and make a phone call.
Or have you forgotten my phone number?
I began thinking today as I took a long look at my oldest child.
I felt sad and scared all at the same time. I can hardly believe how fast time has gone. This child’s facial features has changed as well as his mannerisms. He is handsome and smart and such a gentleman. I stop to wonder if we as parents are raising him properly. IF we are teaching him all he needs to know about becoming a caring and loving adult. I look into his eyes and see all the changes that has taken place in these last few months. His voice is changing as well as his facial features. I look hard and try to figure out if he still looks like me, if he is still my baby. If he will always need me in the way he still needs me now. If he will still need me to tell him that everything will be okay, and that I love him. I’m terrified of the day that may all stop. I hope it never does, but..I know it will. I’d like to always be the most important woman in his life, but I realize, that maybe it won’t always be that way.
I want him to know that I love him, that he is smart and intelligent, funny and sweet, kind and loving. I want him to know that as long as he is always true to himself and kind to others, that he will go far in life. To always remember to say “Please and thank you”, to always remember to treat girls as though they are important and pretty in every way. To be respectable even when he does not want to be. To always tell the truth and to always be true to himself. I want him to remember that he is an awesome kid, and to not let anyone tell him otherwise.
But most of all, I want him to know that I love him. We love him. I want him to know that no matter how old he is, we will always be here for him. We will always be here to wipe away his tears and that your never to old to need your parents. When times get tough in his life, I want him to know that coming here, he will feel safe. I won’t always be able to protect him, but I will do my best to lighten some of life’s blows…
While I was in church today, I became a little emotional. We had communion today (and normally, on days that there is communion, I’m not so thrilled because service runs longer than normal..I know I know..not really Christian like for me to be saying that..out loud anyway, but it’s how I feel), and today we had a few members who needed to have communion delivered to them in their pews, as they were too frail to walk up front. Normally, I would just look ahead quietly and not really pay attention to those that get communion served in their seats; but I looked, and what I saw touched me on some level. Pastor gave to the first elderly woman and then walked back to the next (with my son following as he acolyted today), I looked at who appeared to be her daughter sitting next to her (older woman as well) and she looked like she was crying. I immediately began to tear up (I do this a lot, it does not take a lot for me to cry honestly, and sometimes It’s embarrassing ), it seemed so poignant on some level.
It left me to think about my parents and how they are aging quickly. That one day, they will be in this very position (although not at church because my father is an atheist). I’m not exactly sure I have put myself in the mental capacity to think about how I will deal with it exactly. I cannot imagine my father, my strong father, in this position. To me my father represents strength and mental fortitude. My father is strong man, who never ever shows weakness. In the last few years, I have seen breakdown in health with him and I’ve noticed that he is not as strong as I once thought he was. I guess seeing these elderly people receiving communion today, reminded me that time does not stand still, it marches on and sometimes faster than we’d like it to. It reminded me that my parents are getting older and that someday, they won’t be here for me anymore. It has left me to visit a place where not many of us really want to be at. The process of growing old and losing someone we love.
The thought of my father in this state of being, scares me..no it terrifies me. Aging isn’t always kind and it certainly isn’t forgiving. It robs you of your youthful way, it breaks you down inside and out. It hardly seems fair, that a time in one’s life when they should finally be able to relax and enjoy their lives, that this cruel and unjust process begins to happen. My father visited us for the Holidays not too long ago, and he is indeed aging. It seems as if every time I see him, he’s a bit older,and bit more tired looking. His deep dark eyes seem filled with pain (of the body and the mind), his body has begun to break down, and he complains of being in constant pain.
You see, my father is a hard worker. He works with his hands as he is a carpenter, he has been a carpenter since he was a small boy. All those years of heavy lifting and constant abuse to his body has taken its toll on him. He has had to work hard for the money he made, everything he has in his life, he earned. He likes to say “The problem with people today is that they don’t know what it means to really put in a hard days work, no one likes to get their hands dirty anymore”.
Maybe he is right, but what I know to be true and accurate is that I will miss him. He was not always the easiest person to get along with and God knows he made a METRIC TON of mistakes with me growing up, but he is still my father. I look at him and I see a different man than I once knew. I see a kind and loving man who would do anything for his family…anything. My wish is that time could be a little kinder to him. A little gentler on his body, I know it’s part of the process, but if you could, please gentle with him.
When I think of my father..I think of this song..and I will always hear him singing it in my mind..Have you Ever Seen the Rain