tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3795093390690349872024-03-13T14:01:52.588-04:00Goodnyou?Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.comBlogger261125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-42004742316700476362017-08-01T08:35:00.005-04:002017-08-02T08:06:45.669-04:00Summer's Social Surrender It's been a minute since I've been in this space.<br />
I'm trying to accurately referencing a current 'saying' I've been hearing lately and find I like.<br />
I think I used it correctly.....<br />
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I follow this trend motto much better than when Wesley responded to me with a <i>"that's lit fam"</i> and I found myself literally squinting my eyes and reaching my face toward him by just my neck, asking <i>"what?"</i> as if that exact effort would make me understand him better when he repeated it... I've gathered since then that it's similar to when a friend and I went through a phase in high school of stating "rocksteady!" to everything we liked or found exciting....<br />
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.......and yes...... you're right...it wasn't a phase for me.... I still say 'rocksteady' from time to time, but tell me there isn't a one word, powerhouse, exclamatory that sums up an excited response more <i>perfectly</i>.<br />
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Where was I going with this anyways? Oh right....<br />
What I'm trying to say is that it's been some time since I've written. There has simply been a combination of life things that coupled with my avoidance to want to hurt people's feelings, even if it is primarily based at the expense or response to other people's actions, when dealing with some of my own family's process, experiences and reactions, I just avoid writing because I can't hide behind words, it's why I enjoy them so much, they bare me. So consequently there is no.way. I'm going to put effort into writing for my family to reminisce on and have it all be rainbows and unicorns about only our happier times. So I distanced myself. Live undocumented in this space.<br />
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But that's not necessarily fair to me, so here I am, on the 1st day of the last month of school's summer vacation, writing.<br />
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And as many of you know, there is no time I love more than when my kids are home with me. This Stay At Home Mom thing is what my fibers are made from. So much so that sometime self identity outside of this roll is hard to recognize and uncomfortable for me, however that's a post for another time.<br />
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I've always been the cruise director of our summer livin'. I create their social environments, coaching their sport teams, cart them around town to pick up their friends to come along with us, put on dodgeball tournaments, host kick ball games, feed the masses, schedule the vacations, forces them to listen to me sing Moana at the top of my lungs in the van, lead them on experiences of seizing, and pretty much guide the way on all daily activities I feel are things I think they would find fun or at least create memories from during their time away from school.<br />
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Basically, their schedule is my schedule, created for them.<br />
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Now is where I'll admit all that I've tried to ignore this summer so far, but there has been a changing of the tides....<br />
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<i>My schedule has become their schedule, created by THEM</i>..... and seeing as they went along with me steering the ship so easily, one would think I'd go along just the same with being directed.....<br />
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Welp, I'm not.<br />
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Where I once played an active roll in their participation of busy, I've been demoted to the supporting cast, based on giving them rides to their social partaking only to be beckoned back when needed for them to come home.<br />
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They have the nerve to be gone most of the day during the school year, now that it's my time to have them home with me all day, they've got other plans...... that don't include me..... Which leaves me with only one question to ask..... What kind of monsters am I raising?<br />
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Yes, when I was 14 years old I didn't want to hang out with my parents.<br />
Yes, I've put a lot of effort into raising independent, capable children.<br />
Yes, I know the value that comes with given responsibility to spreading your wings outside of your Mother's watchful eye.<br />
Yes, I know confidence grows in freedom.<br />
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All I'm saying is.. How could they do this to me? Their own mother. <br />
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Needless to say, I'm handling this all very well.<br />
If you're feeling brave, Feel free to point out at any time that this is nothing compared to the abyss of lonely they are going to vault me into in the coming years.<br />
<br />
I've been left with no other choice than to surrender my idea of what our social <i>should look like</i> this summer if I want to maximize the enjoyment of the short time I have with my kids the rest of it... when <i>THEY DO</i> decided to include me.... Who knows, maybe I'll learn to like it, even prefer it this way maybe...... Is this how Grumpy Old Men are created?<br />
<br />
Either way, I'm working on embracing this new structure to our summer and I'm sure the remainder is going to be<i> completely lit fam</i>! ..... Did I do that right, Wes? Wesley? oh... yaaa...... I'll just sit here and stew in emotions while I wait for him to get home from hanging out with everyone but me, so I can check to see if I did.<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">{thank you Beth Somers for the photos of Wesley playing baseball, xoxo}</span></i><br />
<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-9069782973753052502016-09-28T08:47:00.000-04:002016-09-28T08:49:00.294-04:00Dear Calvin, 8 years old8 year's old is a big year for you, Monkey.<br />
Finally, you're tall enough to ride the bigger rides at the fair.<br />
Finally, you can play pee-wee basketball.<br />
FINALLY! you can try out for the Little League team.<br />
<br />
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And I must say, we are all just as excited, as you are to <i>finally</i> be able to.<br />
<br />
Right now, sports "are your thing". You're competitive drive is driven by such a genuine force, there's no way to keep from being energized by your efforts.<br />
Your heart consistently remains on your sleeve and I'll admit I'm not always the best at knowing how to handle your raw, always on the surface emotions.<br />
<br />
I worry a lot about your gentle kindness, with hopes of it sustaining and rooting in confidence as you grow, rather than letting the world jade you from its lack of it's own affection at times.<br />
<br />
You continue to be too kind to Joey who manipulates you too often and I know Wesley provokes you too much, but in the less loud hours of each day, it's clear to see how much Bean depends on you as hers and how Bubby leans on the comfort in your ora.<br />
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You're a rule follower, a creative thinking, a considerate friend and your father's little shadow.<br />
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Your sweetness and charm are what I feel will make you a force in success in this game of life, but also know that your own unawareness of those very traits, is what will be the most impactful to those who are lucky enough to share your time.<br />
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I watched you make a wish this summer.<br />
Your eyes caught on a shooting star and mirrored it's glow, your face lit slightly, you're eyes closed slowly, and the look of hope settled on your face. As soon as your wish was made, you returned your attention to making a s'more, without a mention of any of it.<br />
<br />
It left me breathless.<br />
To be fortunate enough to be looking at you in that split moment, to witness such innocence, I won't questions, but will certainly be so so thankful for.<br />
<br />
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<br />
I thought about asking you what you wished, I wanted to be let in on such magic. Every fiber of me wanted to make it come true for you. But, I left it alone. Keeping that moment to myself, as much as you kept the wish to yours, while I scanned the sky hoping to find a shooting star of my own to wish on for you.<br />
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I love all of you at 8, Monkey-man..<br />
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Love, Love,<br />
<br />
Mumma<br />
<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-77856756079668711402016-09-15T11:07:00.001-04:002016-09-15T11:07:24.904-04:00Summer's So Much FunI'm happy to report, we have had a successful first week.5 of school under our belts and though we live in a small town, it's been nice to catch up with those who's faces I mostly see within the months of school's session.<br />
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This summer, I found myself welcoming the life style of selective. Not regrettingly <i>{just made that word right up!} </i>at all. I'll admit I struggled with feeling guilty about answering how our summer has been going, when people would ask. Without hesitation I found myself blurting out, "<i>It's been amazing</i>! We're having <i>so.much.fun!</i>" and I rarely had anyone mirror my excitement in summah 2016.<br />
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In return, I more often than not got too many dismissive <i>"must be nice"</i>'s<i> </i>and instantly, I would through myself into sound boarding their summer woes and stressful times that have happened to those I hadn't been directly involved with outside the months of September -June and despite my truly genuine interested in their well being, my own blissful unawareness of anyone outside my select, made me feel like I was being a big snobby jerk, rubbing other's noses in my care free ways of a hella good time.<br />
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I sometimes entertained the thought of lessening my own summer fist pumping state, considered back pedaling and dulling my initial excitement.... but I never did..... because honestly I didn't want that for myself, wouldn't be sincere in its intent, and am not an active participant in the game of one upping in life anyways..... <i>especially</i> in the woe vs. woe department.<br />
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I would promise myself to reign it in the next time someone asks and then we would spend a Saturday with an impromptu dance party, in the pool, in the dark, with hair band music playing and then there I would go again gushing about <i>how.much.fun.</i> we're having the next time someone asked.<br />
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I couldn't help myself and I don't think I really tried to either.<br />
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<i>{yes ladies, he's single}</i></div>
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Trust me when I say we've had our own share of heavy things to carry this summer. I've done my own sound boarding to my closest friends, who came running for me to process my worries with their time. I've bent Nate's ear on the unjust of people's actions at other's expense. I've felt sorry for myself. I've yelled at my kids out of hunger. I've allowed myself to embrace the nature of my sometime looked down on hermit ways. I've almost cried and ate my negative emotions in the form pasta a few times more than that.<br />
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I realize it's human nature to feel the weight of our own worry the heaviest and know it's a direct connection of instinctual survival skills to do so. We are suppose to feel our emotions the most, to make the necessary efforts to protect ourselves the greatest. But you'd be hard pressed to convince me the <i>'not so fun</i>' times have a stronger dog in the fight when it comes up against the<i> 'so.much.fun' </i>ones.<br />
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I don't want to nurture the woes warrior part of myself to make others feel more comfortable when good times need their duel diligence in the lime light of catching up between shopping carts at the grocery store.<br />
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So my summer was amazing. I think the kids would high five about theirs too. We've pushed our energy into the 'want to' of the right now, worked hard in both responsibility and reward, prepared for the unwanted to find itself some room from time to time too, but really really focused on excising only worrying about that for the time it was needing our attention and carrying on after. Minimally looking back.<br />
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Now, I'll admit if the idea of the outside influences being more readily available to seeping their way in, didn't send me in a bit of a Post Summer Panic, I'd be misleading you. <i>BUT</i>, that's because I wasn't being fair to the influences to outside these walls.... those effects are more good than bad... and honestly, I'll be the first to say the examples set inside these walls sometimes aren't always on their best behavior either...<br />
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Aaaaaaanyways, it may not have been the most reasonable of me to lead in detaching us as much as I did this summer, but I felt very out of control over the course being directed for me and mine by the times Spring came around and creating space is a natural defense mechanism for me, so I went ahead and I embraced that.<br />
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And now that summer's over, I feel like I've got my feet back under me and am ready to merge deeper into the less controlled environment, with the prerogative of simply carry over with the <i>so.much.fun.</i><br />
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Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-28880918735392668602016-04-14T06:27:00.000-04:002016-04-14T06:34:28.333-04:00Adulting Lately, I'm frequently being reminded that I'm actively participating in the world of being an adult.... adulting, if you will.<br />
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Has "adulting" always been a word that I'm just now becoming aware of because I've reached a certain point in my life that it applies? Like when you buy a new vehicle, magically that very same make and model is every.where you look. Or is this noun, verb turned to be something created within the generation of hashtags?<br />
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Regardless, this roll of adulting is proving to be a lot more involved than I imagined. It seems as though I've romanticized this whole experience based on the idea of being able to call the shots on important things such as bed times, having babies, picking which toilet paper brands, and my own limitless ice cream consumption.<br />
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Interestingly enough, it's turing out to be a little more detailed than that.<br />
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I guess it could be argued I've been in this roll for some time now. Recently though, there seems to have been a string of <i>not-so-fun-events </i>that have gone on, crossing a larger span of time than I would prefer, seriously though I've been chalking it up to something just needing a little time to correct itself.<br />
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But then the other day when I was talking to one of my friends and we were ping ponging some worries beyond the stresses of our day to day, of it dawned on me, this very well could just be a new part of life we're phasing into.<br />
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And if that's the case, it makes me wonder if the denseness of the last few year's experience is only because it's been the most consistent with '<i>harder emotions'</i> than ever before. Like when a light turns on in a dark room, the brightness seems so severe at first, but you grow accustom to it's glow as you adjust to its presents.<br />
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Honestly, I feel very very hesitant to accept this as part of a norm on being an adult, so less simple, so more raw.<br />
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Does this also mean I'm rather foolish to think I'm anything but scratching the surface when it comes to what dealing with life as an adult consists of. Phasing into the more of it, can it really be easier to accept the unpleasant the more the unpleasant makes itself known? Is this the very thing people get jaded from? How the glass gets half empty? Where rainbows don't lead to pots of gold and leprechauns don't really live? When cynical takes root? Why people can sleep at night, without a second thought to the disgusting change of the green skittles to green apple flavor, instead of keeping them as the disliked, but tolerated lime?!?!?<br />
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"Clearly this is my panic talking and it certainly feels like a sad state of affairs if that is the case when it comes to participating in this newly ventured age of adulting. And who likes the state of sad? No one, that's who."<br />
<br />
So now, I'm looking to foster a sense of relief in the attempt to counter and rally my natural instinct to have the majority of my days spent productively involved in a good time, all the time. Because turns out the specifics of adulting also involve loudly lip syncing to Janis Joplin during school drop off without regret regarding middle school child embarrassment, bonfires that are dangerously too large, legitimately needing a reason for business cards, attempts at cow tipping, and refusing to wear shoes for the simple fact being, I don't wanna, because I am an adult after all.<br />
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<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-45218960452766207752016-01-11T15:59:00.000-05:002016-01-11T15:59:32.389-05:00Dear Wesley. {13 years old}I skipped your 12 year old post. Don't think for a minute it was because I forgot. Or didn't have the time. It was life. That's it. That's all..... I know, such a broad stroke to make as a dismissive 'didn't'.... But that's how it's going to be...for here, for now. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjug7LpWvuqx08n5G5ATCmL-wmYHM-RVQs3X2StLlQB-nugVA6CizUMiiN5B3XvzHB_8nSJlV33A638ZI7eaI4Addsj68BF4gMJjo2plf8Y1bbx9HO5xZIYjpVLYHWFQjbcwf1ZUaNM7j95/s1600/IMG_0175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjug7LpWvuqx08n5G5ATCmL-wmYHM-RVQs3X2StLlQB-nugVA6CizUMiiN5B3XvzHB_8nSJlV33A638ZI7eaI4Addsj68BF4gMJjo2plf8Y1bbx9HO5xZIYjpVLYHWFQjbcwf1ZUaNM7j95/s640/IMG_0175.JPG" width="480" /></a>Every time I sat to write, all those drafts I never finished.... the weight was too much, the words lead in a way in which I didn't want your birthday post to be, but the realness of life's heavy unintentionally wades its ways at times, so I wrote nothing, left room for air, waited it out if you will.<br />
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So here I am, with you at 13 year's old and me wondering just how exactly that happened.<br />
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I'm sure I'll regret having ever put this out from inside my head, but I feel like I've 'got this' at this age stage of the Mumma game. Maybe it's because I've coached this age demographic for so long or it's the general mentality I can relate to the best.... Either way, I feel more comfortable and certain in this phase of parenting than I have in any other so far.<br />
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I think you've realized that Daddy and I are ok, funny people.<br />
I expect you to forget that for awhile here soon too.<br />
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I think we do ok, you and I. We don't talk much about the personal details of your day, I don't inquisitively invade and you don't gabbingly offer. Our relationship is good, I love how you catch me off guard with your subtle wit and quick humor. Your oddity in imagination mirrors my own. I hope you never lose that quirk in you that makes other feel like they can't quite relate. It's not a part of myself I ever felt was worth changing to make others more accepting of me, I hope you find that too.<br />
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You're such a good kid and generally always happy, I sometime am harder on you with my short patience when you're more challenging, not your naturally easy going self. I'm aware this isn't fair of me, I'm working on it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCjEFpWFlYzrnbjwp59J-cUz4_gabRxzjUxS_N5zM5UqgipYbH1gdA3eWzBtBy37BRp1JAd4TokzFXXtycKLKV1MB4-Rvde7ULXmaJaI_kXFU8gN2oGOltdCxkH1gtTYRikfs6sZ3hwXMj/s1600/IMG_0372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCjEFpWFlYzrnbjwp59J-cUz4_gabRxzjUxS_N5zM5UqgipYbH1gdA3eWzBtBy37BRp1JAd4TokzFXXtycKLKV1MB4-Rvde7ULXmaJaI_kXFU8gN2oGOltdCxkH1gtTYRikfs6sZ3hwXMj/s400/IMG_0372.JPG" width="400" /></a>You've started to test the waters of talking back and I can't say my initial response to this hasn't been a little harsh. You're a teenage, it's what you do, it's what I should expect. If you're to test these boundaries as minimally as you do, I should be thankful it's with me you're doing it with.<br />
And I am.<br />
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I worry about some of the things that are making you aware to the cruelty of life and wonder am I doing the best by how I'm leading you through them? The devil on my shoulder constantly tells me I'm not doing you right by accepting the bad so quickly without much question, acknowledging to the point of complete opposite of dwell. Maybe the dealing and feeling of the less than fun should have more time spent under it's gloom.<br />
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I don't anguish about the poor choices you are bound to make, I worry more about if you'll learn from them enough the first time you make them.<br />
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I'm winging it here, Bubby. And I'm only hoping hindsight doesn't answer these concerns in a radical way for me.<br />
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Your hair's way long and you're the smallest in your class. You're kind, messy, happy, annoying, lazy, funny, and not at all considerate outside of your sense of self.... I expect I'll be thankful if that's exactly how you remain through this embarkment of teen, but I expect I'm only fooling myself with the thought that this is at all possible to consistently remain.<br />
<br />
You're loved, looked up to, and always our Bubby, but Dude, you're 13. Seriously. Just how exactly did this happen?<br />
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xoxo,<br />
Yo'Mumma<br />
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Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-33977614808798724202015-09-17T07:52:00.001-04:002015-09-17T07:52:55.444-04:00Hell Of A Time<div style="text-align: center;">
I've mentioned before how I've been caught between this place of "what the hell?" and "hell ya!"</div>
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It's like I've been try to pull a mental trick of the hand.</div>
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If I focus on having a good time, all the time, the life's bad wouldn't want to interrupt me, it would see I'm too busy for it, leave me alone, let me be.</div>
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I know it's an avoidance habit I developed a long time ago.</div>
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Delay the process of harsher life's realities, by running full speed in a good time guided direction.</div>
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I don't see this as a bad thing in myself, in fact I think I would have been more susceptible to indulging in self pity had I let myself spend too much time in the less than ideal of life's wake.</div>
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But recently, I've been slowing my mental self down, unknowingly at first and desperately as of lately.</div>
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You know how sometimes you don't know how thirsty you are until you start to take a drink, then you're body instinctively takes over and before you know it you're guzzling straight from that milk carton like your hydration levels well..... depend on it....</div>
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That's how I felt this year on our family's annual vacation to Well's Beach, I didn't realize how much I needed to draw from being surrounded by my family, until I was submerged within it's core.</div>
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My cousin referred to it as a "soul feeding" and truly, it was just that.</div>
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I've been sitting here for the last 10 minutes trying to figure out the best way to describe my family's ora, but typing words to read like "predictable", "even", "unhurried" and "passive" don't support the feeling I'm trying to convey of an environment provided to allow yourself to be unguardedly simple.</div>
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This was a month back now, but I've been steadily pulling from it since.</div>
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Although our family's "what the hell?" hurdles haven't been unavoidable, I'm finding my distraction tactics have also allowed my confidence to simultaneously be chipped away. </div>
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This morning I woke feeling like I've got my feet back on the ground. Feeling as if my center is working itself back to certain...... I've really missed this part of me in a"hell ya!" kind of way.</div>
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Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-75389320209979468912015-04-09T06:28:00.000-04:002015-04-09T06:28:07.026-04:00Dear Blog, it's not you, it's me.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Hello there, strange space.</span></div>
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Being here right now, I feel a level of uncomfortableness.</div>
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I'm tentative and unsure.</div>
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Like bumping into a once close friend you can't remember exactly why you don't talk as much anymore, but have a lingering feeling the guilt lays mostly on you.</div>
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So I feel this awkward stammering of talk taking place right now... Where you politely ask me, "how've you been" and I politely answer "great! busy, but good!".... when really life's been filled with so much more than those four dismissive words and my whole being want to bust at the seams, verbally spewing all my hearts triumphs and trials.</div>
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One of those times where I talk too fast, jump topics too quickly, and hardly make much sense.</div>
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Purge without consequence and laugh within the comfort we once shared.</div>
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The last time I wrote here, I felt ready to process some of life's struggles and strengths, since then, life tore my heart apart the worst it ever has. Delaying it all.</div>
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But I'm making the initial effort now to get back to where we once were.</div>
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I feel like this is a very "it's not you, it's me" cliche post, but cut me some slack for trying would you.</div>
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So with all that being said, in a nut shell things really are good, busy, but good. I've been questioning my ability to be a mother, been working hard, playing harder, sleeping more, laughing often, crying less, struggling to find the balance and have fallen back on the ol' "fend for yourself" supper offerings a few too many times lately.</div>
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But we're good, happy, plugging away with the steady as we go approach and am looking forward to getting back together here again very soon.</div>
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Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-43399639806196298382015-01-22T13:10:00.000-05:002015-01-22T13:10:02.173-05:00My Avoidance of Quiet Idling Over the last few months, I've dreamt about writing. It hasn't been the main focal point in any of the dreams, but more like a response to the dream, within the dream.<br />
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Most recently, I woke with a pressured chested of anxiety, having had a dream where I actually hit "publish" to a piece on this here blog.<br />
In a response to the contents of the dream, I remember thinking, "I've got to write about this!"<br />
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Whatever "<i>this</i>" was is now lost to me, however, that feeling I had, of a clenched heart, startled waking, to the non-reality of actually having written about it, has certainly echoed in my mind, often.<br />
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It's bothered me to say the least.<br />
Surprisingly deep response to something so simple surfaced.<br />
But, written words have always been my safest place.<br />
A 'go-to' of self expression.<br />
A place I can't hide myself from.<br />
A therapeutic process of reality, if you will.<br />
A perspective provider.<br />
A place I've always felt so comfortable.<br />
A place I now feel such haste.<br />
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It's nothing more than me avoiding the process of exposing self vulnerability, striped with the sense of my need to have order of operation.<br />
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How am I suppose to genuinely write about Wesley's birthday, without having worked through the cowardly reality of me at the Dempsey Challenge prior to that.<br />
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Forwarding to the good, makes me feel like I'm slighting it, by avoiding addressing the less than happy.<br />
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I'm the master of distraction and have happily thrown myself into other areas that I find as self gratifying in solidifying my journey in 'best life fueling'.<br />
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However, I know I'm not experiencing it all at the peak of my best self.<br />
Despite being more certain than ever about my path, I'm in this weird place where I'm less sure of my steps.<br />
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A month ago, I posted on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/goodnyoublog?ref=bookmarks" target="_blank">Goodnyou? Facebook</a> page this picture...<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">"I'll admit, I found myself falling down the well of mental dwelling, this morning. I know nothing but insecurity and self doubt are at the bottom. regardless, I let myself topple over that edge and did little to try and slow the descend. I sometimes don't do well in an area of quiet idle. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Today is one of those times. So I'm now outside, letting the big snow flakes distract me, watching a pheasant jump into a tree.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">"</span></div>
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The heart is in the confession that <i>"I sometimes don't do well in the quiet idle".</i><br />
My resistant to that hollow space, is the first sign it's exactly where I need to curl myself into.<br />
It's where my subconscious' crave for me to submerge with writing and self re-alignment.<br />
I've spend at least 20 years building the crutch of its security and the last year denying it by avoidance.<br />
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until todaySamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-8735587351088412482014-10-10T07:55:00.000-04:002014-10-10T08:02:21.403-04:00Dear Josephine {4 years old}This year is turning out to be quite the year for you little lady bird.<br />
<br />
You've started school, taken big leaps with your already independent nature, and are showing how ready you are for life's adventures. <br />
<br />
Which is why the happily anxious reserved side, that you showed on your birthday this year, caught both Grammie and I off guard.<br />
<br />
It was one of those moments I consider a memory gift. One I will reflect on in my more quiet moments and baffle at in disbelief laughter, during joyful times, for years down the road.<br />
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The bold, fearlessly, stubborn, spit fire of a baby I am accustom to, was caught, idly standing in the kitchen, with her party dress on, nervously turing it's hem, tentative in motion.<br />
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It didn't last long.<br />
Your friends came in, you ran off and played, but that moment of hasty hesitation, cautiously standing with the protection of your grammy by your side, is one of those memories that is a gift in itself, leaving Grammie and I standing dumbfound, speechless, and oddly heart broken at this side of you.<br />
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<br />
You showed the same kind of emotional wavering on step-up-day for school.<br />
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You held my hand, wanting me to keep my security close, while looking up at me frequently for encouraging head nods and comforting smiles.<br />
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Again, if only for a brief moment, it was there... and I was thankful to have been as well.<br />
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Just this morning, when I went to drop you off at school, you asked for me to stay in the van.<br />
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You confidently jumped out, met your classmates in line, excitedly waved back at me, blew me a kiss, and march into school.<br />
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There was no hesitations, no reservations, or idle doubts.<br />
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It's hard for me to find my own reluctancy to you becoming older.<br />
Your excitement for all that this age bring, holds my sadness for my baby growing, at bay.<br />
For the most part anyways.<br />
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I revel with pride in our common ground being found in stubborn, reactive, and independent.<br />
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But you bring a sassy vibe with you that can't..... or will not .... be ignored.<br />
4 years has brought me accustom to you're confidence in receiving attention and at the same time leaving me shaking my head that girly, pink loving, giggly, you, could have come from tomboyish, earth tone, mild me.<br />
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So far, year 4 is broadening that realm for us by keeping me on my toes in ways unexpected. The force that you are naturally, the big space that you fill for being so small, is what I have come to expect of you.<br />
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You're ready for life, you always have been, but this year especially, it's showing me how willing you are for it as well. But sometime with want, come worry and it's nice to see that part of you stem. It tells me awareness is present in your moments, and what is the point of living this life, if we are not aware while doing so.<br />
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This new layer of shy, has caught my attention in a way that's unknowingly funny and sweet.<br />
And that I absolutely love........ as well you....<br />
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xoxoxo,<br />
Mumma<br />
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Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-64850908841630937322014-08-06T08:36:00.000-04:002014-08-06T08:57:42.518-04:00Fighting for FairThis summer I have been pulled to the trenches in the constant battle of fairness.<br />
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I'm sure it's more of a trickle effect in learned behavior, but it's felt like with one fell swoop all three have found themselves under the socially misguided impression that all that is fair, is doled out evenly, across the board.<br />
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<br />
It's actually rather appropriate timing for my kids to be casting this behavior, because I've also been maneuvering though some of the exact same projections on an adult level.<br />
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Now that I'm writing this, I am more than likely hyper aware of this attitude in my kids, because of my frustrations with those of an outside sources. Regardless, I've allowed myself to easily shut the complaints down as soon as they start, with the cut of bud response, "<i>life isn't fair"</i>.<br />
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As effective of a retort as this is in getting them to turn on their heals and take their frustrated little selves else where, it doesn't really address the matter at hand.<br />
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No, life isn't fair... the statement alone does nothing but allow excuses to be made and in our case, to throw blame to the others we feel have an advantage on us... whether this actually be the true or not.<br />
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As true as that statement may be.... it also brings a sense of righteous wronged without the justification of retained reasoning.<br />
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<br />
Just the other day, the battle cry of things being 'unfair' was at its peak... the repetitiveness literally was driving my patience short and my temper long... I was mentally dwelling on things I couldn't control in others and right then I realized the equally repetitive dismissive response from me of <i>"life's! not! fair!"</i> truly was very unfair to them.<br />
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Stepping back a minutes, I realized this wasn't something I felt was healthy to encourage within those I'm responsible for positively guiding into this world. In fact, I was only supporting their path of blameless.<br />
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<br />
So I'm slowing it down. Helping them work it out, while helping myself work it out too.<br />
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Life's not fair, but I'm not sure when we even feel under the impression that it was suppose to be.<br />
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I very well could be spinning my wheels in a false sense of progression, but maybe I'm not.<br />
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But, it's only fair for me to try. For them.<br />
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<a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 20px; left: 193px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 426px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a><a href="http://www.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; border: none; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 20px; left: 193px; line-height: 0; min-height: 20px; min-width: 40px; opacity: 0.85; position: absolute; top: 426px; width: 40px; z-index: 8675309;"></a>Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-69101213653169801952014-07-10T07:17:00.000-04:002014-07-10T07:17:57.810-04:00Play-less Summer<div>
So far our summer has kept with the end of school craze. I've been telling myself "after the 4th" is when we'll be able to take a step back and catch our breath… it's after the forth, we haven't surfaced for air and if we don't… that's fine too, because I'm not complaining, we're having fun, busting life at the seams and catching the memories along the way.</div>
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It's also this time of year, I like to think, is what makes me family folk tale materiel a few decades from now.<br />
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I pride myself on my kids look at me with disapproval, my kid's friends refuse to believe I'm anything but joking, my kid's friend's parents returning blank looks, and my kid's friend's parent's friends knowing me as "<i>the friend I was telling you about who....</i>"<i>{<--- those are the exact words that give me that hope for above mentioned folk tale statues}</i><br />
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For the last 3 years, as soon as that school bell signifies the end of the school year, it duly notifies the start of the end of video game season for the kids.</div>
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No Xbox, no iPhone, no iPad, no DS, minimal TV, no computer, no borrowing your grandmother's phone and quietly hiding under a blanket with hope to be forgotten, no <i>'I just want to see how my Clan is doing and if the dragons survived the attack or if the elixir is down and then carry on with initiating a few attacks of my own and checking just 'one more' thing for the next 38 hours."</i><br />
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Now don't get me wrong, the kids still get their fair share of screen time, between friend's houses, babysitters, and if for a second you don't think I use it completely to my advantage when 'Mumma needs a break' then you've got another thing coming.<br />
<br />
However, I'm not a fan of defeating my own purpose.<br />
So even that, is few and far between.<br />
<br />
For me, it falls under the same category as to why I don't allow my kids to play devices during their siblings sporting events, school concerts, or the whole length of long distance car rides.<br />
<br />
I feel they need to learn how to properly behave in situation they aren't 100% satisfied in.<br />
<br />
Now, I have a friend who sits completely on the opposite side of this approach. She feels here kids work hard throughout the school year, so their summers are theirs to be spent as they please. She packs any device necessary to get her daughter to stay quiet during her son's school play and she has extra sets of headphones in her vehicle 'just incase' the ones to their van's DVD player happen to be break along their way.<br />
<br />
She literally laughs in my face, often makes fun of me, and calls me names along the line of "sucker". She's baffled by my tactic, as much as I am hers, regardless, I think she's a great Mumma and her kids are <strike>tolerable</strike> great too.<br />
<br />
That works for her.<br />
This works for me.<br />
<br />
It's hard to have the kids not tuned in, at times I'm tempted by effortless, but I don't want raising my babies to be easy and I'm not convinced it will be done properly by Mind Craft.<br />
<br />
I consistently find reinforce when their redirection is often found toward the side of creativity.<br />
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I marvel in the world that opens up in front of them and often follow their lead in imagination and vision.<br />
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Somehow, with the force of hand to play less... there is no handicap provided when it comes to my kid's summer being spent playing more.</div>
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Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-90514863453805803392014-06-11T06:21:00.002-04:002014-06-11T06:23:43.940-04:00Dear Calvin, {6 Year'sOld}Right now, you're in your bed after a hard day's play. This time of year is a hectic one and I love the soundness in which you sleep and dread the time in the morning I have to wake you up. You like your sleep and are cranky when you get little of it.<br />
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I like that you're grouchy to greet the day, it complements your daily cheerfulness nicely. Plus, I love being one of few who know this side of you. Your happy go lucky, charm filled self is shared with so many, that I selfishly like to keep that crusty side of your bright, just for me.<br />
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At age 6, I hope you remember how in the mornings, I lay beside you and rabidly kiss your face until you pull the covers up over your head to hide your smile. You always declare a hatred for school, I know you don't have and then I sing you a ridiculous song that will end up having the word "poop" in it, because that's my ace in the hole to get those giggles started every time.<br />
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Helping you out of your morning crankies, helps me work out mine. I like it.<br />
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The other morning you prompted me by saying 'until I laugh, I'm not really awake, remember that Mumma.' I'll remember that.<br />
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At 6, you still snuggle on my lap and kiss me goodbye before school.<br />
You triple check for cars before crossing the road, despite still holding my hand. <br />
Your shadowing Wesley will soon become annoying and looking after Joey like you do, will never get old.<br />
Your kindness and sincerity leads my own.<br />
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This year for your birthday party day, it rained….a lot. You played with your friends regardless. You had fun, looked happy, and hopefully felt as loved as you are.<br />
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Kip came to you this year. You've been asking for a cat consistently for some time now. Your father couldn't resist, the sweetness that is as deep as your brown eyes, any longer.</div>
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True to your nature, you're cautious, even toward something your heart wished. You're getting braver by the day with him, but you break my heart with how personal you take even the smallest of scratches. <br />
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Despite being hesitant at times, you're protective of him too, there is no second guessing with how you should love him, when your brother and sister pester him relentlessly.<br />
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Where part of you can be timid, that other part is so sure.<br />
I love watching you grow more steady in that sureness.<br />
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You've dabbled in being mean lately.... Simply mimicking behavior by others displayed around you and toward you. It's more funny than offensive to watch you try, it's just something that doesn't come natural to you.<br />
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You upset yourself more for having tried to be mean, than the subject of your directed meanness... which is mostly me... and I thank you for allowing me to be the one you try to figure yourself out with. </div>
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It's your soul's fiber sewn the drive the purity of your genuine heart, by this I am continuously smitten.<br />
Sometime soon, you'll realize I'll be easily hoodwinked by that smile.<br />
<br />
You're a reseved mischievous<br />
a tender heart<br />
a sensitive soul<br />
a do gooder<br />
a rule follower<br />
and mine.</div>
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I love you, Monkey Man.<br />
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Love, love,<br />
Mumma<br />
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Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-71662985331462263352014-04-26T06:00:00.002-04:002014-04-26T06:01:10.835-04:00Our Easter: 2014 This year our Easter weekend was slow paced and easy going.<br />
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We didn't have the rush of busy, that always comes with Holidays in this house. Admittedly, I thrive in that rush… in fact, I'm always the one who sets the pace so steadily…<br />
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I'm not sure why this year played out to be so nonchalant, but it did, and though I do love the high that comes with the exhaustion of being full steam ahead, I nestled in the low that this past weekend provided.</div>
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Despite…. </div>
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The Easter bunny not getting their crap together until Friday night</div>
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Or extra eggs not having been dyed</div>
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Forgetting to get Bunny Bait laid out the night before</div>
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And not having one single Cadbury eggs to be found</div>
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…. things turned out alright.<br />
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Imagine that.<br />
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The kids had fun, were funny, and on a constant sugar high, regardless.<br />
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<br />
I love going the extra mile in small details, putting effort into the things others don't notice, but I will miss if I don't.<br />
<br />
I seek self validation on setting that bar at an almost unachievable high, yet somehow meeting my mark.<br />
<br />
I get that way sometimes, thinking its the above and the beyond that creates the traditional memories for Holidays.<br />
<br />
I know it's not and I don't apply that type of mentality to our day to day, where I know the memories are made in the details of the unexpected, subtle, and naturally provided, but special occasions provoke that part of me, what can I say.<br />
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My brain is in a funny place right now, little memories, details of things I should know, and simple approaches to the every day, are all hiding away, not offering themselves up, until I put the mental leg work into seeking them out.<br />
<br />
Last Friday, I had a mild panic moment in the kid's school hallway, when a friend mentioned the Easter Bunny's '<i>big Easter gift' </i>.... I couldn't remember if we did '<i>big Easter gift</i>' ... <i>{we don't}</i>... but as my memory scampered around my brain looking in every nook and cranny, while up turning tables, muttering "E<i>astermemory, Eastermemory, Eastermemory</i>" to its self... I was in a full state of dumb found...<br />
<br />
When Easter past thoughts rallied and school hall conversation concluded, I couldn't help but feel an odd mixture of frustration for not having this information at my forebrain, but also a sense of relief for having been able to remember it all.<br />
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Easter night, I listened through open windows to the kids playing outside and filling the air with belly laughs, they were cracking each other up and talking about statical defenses again zombie attacks.<br />
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They were throwing rocks into the woods and bursting at the seems in a fit of giggles when one of them would drop the word "poop".<br />
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They ran over to pet the chickens and raced back to grab the better of the two swings, compromised on turns taken with out any tattlers running for the house.<br />
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It's was comforting to listen to, completely supported our reasons behind not doing the big gifts on Easter and why I feel there is so much more value in the day's pace provided, especially on a Holiday day.<br />
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Even when the extra details get forgotten, the pace notched at an unusual slow, and despite my memory lacking….<br />
<br />
I know, my kids are not.<br />
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<br />
This typically is the time where I would harass my friends… relentlessly… but I'm trying to do better by them… if only for a night.<br />
<br />
I have so many talons of frustration clenched into the stress of my shoulders right now, coupled with the weariness of having many irons in the fire along with an aching back….. literally, my back aches.. mostly because it has confused itself with one that should be 81 years old…<br />
<br />
Regardless, there is so much I could spout off about…all as equally as petty as the next…<br />
<br />
Right now, the kids are all in their own beds… Nate's gone to sleep as well and here I sit…amongst snoring dogs… dimmed lights… Citizen Cane's pandora station streaming… some Bravo show on the TV… a beer buzzed head…and the specifics of those mundane daily woes have been fuzzy…<br />
<br />
Except one griff…{is griff even a word}… anyways… the one thing I can't shake lately, is the feeling of being my less than sexy self.<br />
<br />
There I've said it, I miss feeling sexy.<br />
<br />
Now wait…. before my phone starts buzzing with encouraging text from friends telling me all the things I don't need to hear about beauty, support, love, and bitch slaps… read on… my confidence has not wavered… I don't question the character that is held within my statured walls… I'm not challenging myself for growth… I know my strength and am not currently thumb pushing my weaknesses…. what I'm simply saying is…. I'm missing my sexy.<br />
<br />
And damn it, I want my sexy back.<br />
<br />
Maybe it has something to do with my hair growing in an awkward stage of gross.<br />
Maybe it has something to do with spring feeling like a never ending winter.<br />
Maybe it has something to do with extra weight feeling awkward on my frame.<br />
Maybe it has something to do with needing a hell of a lot more sleep than I have ever needed before.<br />
Maybe it has something to do with not having enough Jack Johnson in my life.<br />
Maybe it has something to do with knowing my mind hasn't rebounded fully yet.<br />
Maybe it has something to do with having a back that feels like it's in it's early eighties.<br />
Maybe it has something to do with the a certain over sized maternity hooded sweater I'm driven to wear nightly.<br />
Maybe it has something to do with my avoidance of writing.<br />
Maybe it has something to do with a combination of it all.<br />
Maybe it has something to do with nothing at all.<br />
<br />
All I'm trying to say is, it's something and the result of this is that I don't feel sexy…. and I miss it.<br />
Who knew there could be such longing.<br />
<br />
Now don't get me wrong… It's not like I'm normally channeling that Jessica Rabbit vibe all the live long day… but I can't ever remember a time in my life I haven't been able to pin point the lack of sexiness to a specific.<br />
<br />
I'm left empty handed here and there really isn't too much I can do about it, but wait it out until it finds its way back to me.<br />
<br />
Until then, I'll have to settle for pulling from all the areas I have that drive my confidence, which are so many…. and resort to Kings Of Leon lullaby me to bed every night… because that doesn't hurt kicking off any sort of search and rescue.Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-68078148229203306122014-03-19T22:38:00.002-04:002014-03-19T22:38:35.901-04:00Dear Wesley, {11 years old}It's been 3 months since you've turned 11.<br />
<br />
I've been trying to write you this letter for a while now, but seeing as you have been grounded over half of your time labeled as an 11 year old, it's always turned into a lecture post that suggested more than a few times about smartin' up and giving your poor worn down Mumma a bit of a break.<br />
<br />
Who knew this parenting thing meant diligence on being consistently stern.<br />
Every inch given, a mile taken.<br />
Taming one fire, only to have another ignite.<br />
Lessons not learned.<br />
Let me tell you Wesley, it's exhausting.<br />
<br />
Anyways, I'm digressing.<br />
<br />
What I'm trying to say is, I didn't want this birthday post…. or any birthday post for that matter…. to be stemmed from my frustrations of our challenges. And the last few times I've started to write to you, that is what it have been.<br />
<br />
Rants.<br />
Aired frustations.<br />
Lectures.<br />
Fault Focused.<br />
<br />
But, just the other day, you were antagonizing and tearing apart everything that came out of your 5 year old brother's month, with 11 year old sass.<br />
<br />
I put up with it for awhile, tried to gently remind you that you're knowledge base, on whether a goat could jump over a house, was a little more realistic than what your brother was saying, but that his imagination was doing just fine without your interrupting.<br />
<br />
After a while longer, I spun on my heels and went on one of those verbal rants I can get going on…. you know the ones, where I just talk….. non.stop… where I really dig deep into the specific annoyance that I'm having at the moment, but then bring up every thing else that has ticked me off over the last 31 years of my life… pulling things out of left field… things that have little to no relevance to the actual situation….then I make ridiculous analogies about things that you can't laugh at, because you know I'm mad… but I know you want to…. I know… so you literally bite your lips to try and hide the encroaching smile…. start to raise that one eye brow to distort your face into one of serious concentration…. and after awhile… because I can't stop myself from talking... you finally reside to that glazed look and just agree to everything I'm saying…<br />
<br />
So yeah, I was in the midst of one of those…. and it was one of my best ones yet, let me tell you…. it was right after the cocked eyebrow, but right before the glaze shadowed and I was saying….<br />
<i><br />
</i> <i>"…. because it's your job, in this world, to not give into every forsaken impulse you have… if whatever you're thinking is only driven with a force of negative ill purpose and leaves nothing good in it's wake, it doesn't need to be said…."</i><br />
<br />
Right then… I realized… I… your mother… am asking you… my 11 year old… to have the same level of cognitive control, that most adults can't even bring themselves to display in their day to day as grown ups.<br />
<br />
And that's not fair.<br />
<br />
Now, if you're expecting me to let you off the hook…. cut you some slack… give you a break….I wont… because it's those very adults that drive my diligence and consistency of expectations for you.<br />
<br />
But I will work hard to be better centered.<br />
Because at 11, things really aren't <i>that</i> hard for you or I.<br />
<br />
But, I love having those humbling thoughts flood me.<br />
I love a dose of perspective thrown at me unexpectedly.<br />
<br />
And as always, we will diligently continuing to find our ebb and flow.<br />
For the times when things are <i>that</i> hard for you and I.<br />
<br />
As of now….<br />
Your wit impresses me each day and you don't know the pride I feel when it's compared to my own.<br />
Clearly a compliment to me, because how could I ever be as clever as you.<br />
<br />
You wont kiss me when I'm dropping you off at school anymore.<br />
And I wont not call you out on it each morning.<br />
<br />
Daddy things we are weird when we expand on imaginative stories to the level we can and laugh like we do.<br />
Weird is more fun.<br />
<br />
You still sleep in your brother's bed on the weekends.<br />
I sometimes stand to listen to your giggles through the door, though it's way too late for you to still be awake.<br />
<br />
I'm right on the cusp of being <i>that</i> embarrassing mom.<br />
You should know, over the next few years, I plan on diving in head first.<br />
Remember when I screamed "<i>i love you, i love you, i love you</i>" from the van window dropping you off at school?<br />
I've never seen you run so fast.<br />
I've never loved laughing more.<br />
<br />
You kiss the top of your sister's head at the most random times, when you're not even aware I'm watching.<br />
It's always when I need to see kindness most.<br />
<br />
I get overwhelmed at times.<br />
But I think we're doing ok, Bubby.<br />
<br />
I think we're figuring this whole thing out just fine.<br />
Diligently and consistently.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/IMG_9040_zpsa05965f2.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_9040_zpsa05965f2.jpg" border="0" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/IMG_9040_zpsa05965f2.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
I love you,<br />
Mumma<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Wesleys%2011th%20Birthday/IMG_1665_zps143f3ac3.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_1665_zps143f3ac3.jpg" border="0" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Wesleys%2011th%20Birthday/IMG_1665_zps143f3ac3.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Wesleys%2011th%20Birthday/IMG_1642_zpsf3940712.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_1642_zpsf3940712.jpg" border="0" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Wesleys%2011th%20Birthday/IMG_1642_zpsf3940712.jpg" height="425" width="640" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Wesleys%2011th%20Birthday/IMG_1679_zpsf3efa0cc.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_1679_zpsf3efa0cc.jpg" border="0" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Wesleys%2011th%20Birthday/IMG_1679_zpsf3efa0cc.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Wesleys%2011th%20Birthday/IMG_1686_zpsf64b4b81.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_1686_zpsf64b4b81.jpg" border="0" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Wesleys%2011th%20Birthday/IMG_1686_zpsf64b4b81.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/IMG_8563_zpsb88bfa48.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8563_zpsb88bfa48.jpg" border="0" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/IMG_8563_zpsb88bfa48.jpg" height="320" width="238" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/IMG_8549_zpsb833adef.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8549_zpsb833adef.jpg" border="0" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/IMG_8549_zpsb833adef.jpg" height="320" width="238" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/IMG_8558_zps07aa5c5d.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8558_zps07aa5c5d.jpg" border="0" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/IMG_8558_zps07aa5c5d.jpg" height="320" width="238" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/IMG_8554_zps7c2e6cc2.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8554_zps7c2e6cc2.jpg" border="0" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/IMG_8554_zps7c2e6cc2.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-54453280365107677472014-02-09T17:05:00.004-05:002014-02-09T17:05:43.303-05:00Sunday RamblingsRight now, the other four of this family of five are out conquering the snow mountain with fast blue plastic sleds.<br />
<br />
I should be out there with them, but I'm not.<br />
<br />
I don't know why I feel I should have bundled up too, other than the fact because they have.<br />
And I don't really know why I'm not, other than the fact that I really don't want to.<br />
<br />
I am, however, doing my best to muffle the voice of guilt that's creeping into my thoughts right now, telling me I'm lazy and lame for willingly missing out on such simple moments with the kids.<br />
<br />
I'm not even doing anything inside… In fact, I'm laying in bed, shielding my eyes from that end of day glare, listening to their distant giggles through the closed window, and typing on my computer.<br />
<br />
As soon as I hear those boots come stomping and the energy fused voices start filling the quiet retained within these walls, I'll be rapid fire making dinner, barking bathing orders, and doing the best the counter the absence of my winter weather bundled self the last hour.<br />
<br />
I know once I was out there, I'd be glad I did, but even that self rally isn't enough for me to pull those ski pants from their hook. So hooked those pants shall stay.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure why I grapple with such guilt on such a simple thing like opting out of sliding, but I do…. Do I honestly believe me not being out there with them, will build feeling of abandonment in my child's psyche? No.<br />
<br />
But have I carried the useless worry like it will, around with me the last hour? Yes, yes I have.<br />
<br />
Meh. Moving on.<br />
<br />
I've been writing a lot lately, leaving all unpublished, and I think it's directly associated with the fact that I've been reading so much too.<br />
<br />
It's like a yin and yang bit for me.<br />
Reading creates the escape, while writing provides grounding.<br />
<br />
As short of a month as February is, the next three weeks are going to leave me trying to catch my breath by the end of them. Not in a bad way, just a busy way.<br />
<br />
So I guess it's kind of nice to have this little break, as short as it may have been.<br />
<br />
I can hear the muffled voices of excited kids draw nearer to the door…<br />
<br />
The door I'm thinking about locking before they can reach it…<br />
<br />
Hey! where is that mom guilt now, for entertaining a thought like that?!Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-65463133676202744122014-01-21T08:35:00.001-05:002014-01-21T08:35:17.880-05:002014's Jerk Brake StartI sometimes wish my days as an adult, were mimicked in the routine of my days when I was in school… not in that <i>waking up with minutes to spare before the bell, but not caring if I was really late, pretending I had hiccups in Math and needed a drink, so I could walk the halls avoiding breaking down word problems and waving through the classroom door windows to my friends, or writing just good enough in English class so I would get basketball approved grades, but not good enough so that I had to read in front of the class itself</i>, kind of way, but in that, <i>there was an assigned start time, designated end time for all things appointed important,</i> kind of way.<br />
<br />
The day broken down in segments, 20 minutes for morning coffee, followed by 40 minutes for house cleaning, 10 minutes to load the washer, 15 for a snack break, and each day represented by 'specials' such as grocery store runs, play dates, floor scrubbing, hikes, product making, and Target trips.<br />
<br />
I know, if I were to implement it into my days now, I would hate it, fight against it, probably write a poem about running up steps made of clouds, that I would later burn, and end up rebelling against myself …<br />
<br />
More than likely jig doing the laundry and sneak myself through a window that was too high from the ground for it to be smart to go through, but low enough to the ground that the reality of serious harm would be little….<br />
<br />
Aaaaaah the good ol' day of overly emotionally driven justified acts of rebellion…<br />
<br />
Anyways, <i>as I was saying</i>, lately I've been envy of the idea of such consistent structure to a schedule …. to a point…<br />
<br />
I know everyone struggles with the battle of <i>"finding time for it all"</i> and I know the only reason I'm even craving it so badly right now is because I feel like the jerk brake drivers. You know the ones, when they hit the gas too hard to go and the brake just as hard to stop.<br />
<br />
One day, I'm balls to the wall, I want it all, the world is mine, yet under stimulated.<br />
The next, I want to eat endless pasta, watch mindless TV, take on little responsibly, remain under driven.<br />
<br />
I don't like it.<br />
It's not me.<br />
People tell me to relax.<br />
In my head I yell back, "<i>you relax</i>!"<br />
Which makes me laugh to myself.<br />
I feel better.<br />
<br />
I don't even feel like I've started this year yet…just a bunch of false starts… finally got myself a 2014 calendar, just today, I started filling in the dates with obligations and forming the outline of how this year will hopefully be spent.<br />
<br />
It's a start.<br />
<br />
It will help get my butt up and head grounded, which falls right in line with my self reminder of <i>'the worse I avoid doing something, the more that something really needs to be done</i>'…<br />
<br />
Plus, it turns out faking hiccups doesn't seem to get me out of much these days.Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-80366116580654710842014-01-01T22:37:00.001-05:002014-01-01T22:59:02.958-05:00Dear 2013,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><i>**some not so nice words used below**</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><i>**I could have used worse**</i></span><br />
<br />
I've been sitting here for the last 15 minutes, typing, erasing, re-typing, only to erase again.<br />
<br />
Awhile back, I read a quote that said, "<i>what you write, before you edit, is what you really mean to say</i>". I've thought about that a lot… like a lot, a lot… I've worked it around my brain quite a bit… from a lot of different angles of interpretation, to how many places this could be implied, and to in how many situations utilized… I wondered if when other people read the same words as I did, would they give it as much thought as I have...<br />
<br />
But I've digressed from what I'm really trying to say, what I'm trying to get around to, all the '<i>type, erasing, re-typing</i>' I've been doing, it didn't play to your favor for me not to edit… and I edit after I write, because I don't like to offend, I don't like to make people feel less than, I don't point weaknesses out, and more importantly I want to be nice….<br />
<br />
But I see no other way, to move from where I am, to where I need to be without frankly saying….<br />
<br />
2013, you were a piss wagon bitch hat…. one I wouldn't feel the least bit guilty about punching in the boob.<br />
<br />
You challenged me, you made me grin, you made me bare, you made me questions if I was even the same person I thought I was when we first met… <i>{answer: I'm not}</i>…. you gave me guilt over things I couldn't control, and you gave me no control over all that I was feeling guilty about.<br />
<br />
It was offensive, you made me feel less than, more than exposed my weaknesses, you weren't nice.<br />
<br />
But with all this, I worked so hard to take in stride and you knew I would..… you knew I would put those big girl pants on, you knew I would take it for what it was, head strong, carry on.<br />
<br />
You knew I would find the silver lining, you knew I would suck it up a lot, complain about it a little. You knew my defiant nature would not allow many tears to be shed on your watch.<br />
<br />
Right here feels about where I should turn this into a '<i>what doesn't kill you makes you strong</i>' post or a '<i>look who's got the last laugh now</i>' rallied write, but I'm not going to do that, I can't do that. I'd only be saying it for others if I did. I need to start healing from you and on the first day of 2014 is where I plan to start.<br />
<br />
We both know I am not stronger at the end of your reign, 2013, than I was at the beginning of it…. in fact, I am very much weaker…. mentally, physically, emotionally and energetically.<br />
<br />
You have however, focused me to get back to what my personal best can be.<br />
<br />
Mentally, I often compare myself to a broken pencil that's been put back together with tape… Whole in form, but not in fibers.<br />
<br />
I'm at my weakest weak… I am under no illusion that I will even be back to my strongest strong… but I'll be strong again, nonetheless.<br />
<br />
My core has premaritally softened in some ways, hardened in others, but that's ok…. I'm here and working back to healthy.<br />
<br />
I haven't found my resolve with you yet, but I'm sure I will…in time… I'm not a grudge holder and besides, I have a really horrid memory for the finer details in the depth of bad…<br />
<br />
I'd like to think 2014 will be the edit to what you had to write in 2013, but I don't think that quote would really apply to this situation now would it… because if that were the case, that would mean you were a down right rotten whore… and that's just not nice, now is it.<br />
<br />
<br />
Sincerely,<br />
SamSamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-58544994714291779952013-10-23T09:41:00.001-04:002013-10-23T12:46:25.803-04:00Tuesday: From Good To Bad and Back Again?The last two weeks, have had that 'back to school' vibe for me. I know it's because there has been a welcomed lull in the appointment juggling, kid tending line up, and being able to actually stay home, for more than a few days in a row.<br />
<br />
It feels so good…. it feels nice… it feels so <i>normal.</i><br />
<br />
This morning, I breathed deep the dark, comfy feeling, the house offered. I could have easily throw the words, "<i>perfect start</i>" out there without haste, I did flirt with them a bit subconsciously in my head.<br />
<br />
I should know by now, how such complete acceptance of a momentary content feelings often just foreshadows a smug downward spiral.<br />
<br />
It was so nice to have a moment to myself, things were quiet, things were calm, things changed, quick like...<br />
<br />
Because then, the kids needed to be woken… then re-woken, woken up again, only to have had their rooms marched with threats flying, to be woken finally for this Tuesday.<br />
<br />
Calvin's first fit of the day came from me saying, "<i>hash brown and apple</i>" for breakfast to him hearing, "<i>muffins and bacon</i>"…. expectations like that, are hard to come back from… commence freak out.<br />
<br />
The boys fought over the shared space between the two sinks in the bathroom, resulting in elder son, smearing his used tooth brush on youngest son's face…. Calvin's second freak out, fits nicely right here… rightfully. <br />
<br />
Keeping your own hands, in your own personal space, is apparently harder than you would think.<br />
<br />
I was informed about a 'letter M & S show and tell" themed day, a heart beat moment after I stood in the kitchen with hands above my head yelling, "<i>are the expectations of our morning routine so different from day to day, that I have to remind you to even put.your.shoes.on!!</i>"<br />
<br />
I can yell loud.<br />
Wesley rolled his eyes.<br />
I woke the sleeping Beanie.<br />
She was pissed.<br />
<br />
I scurried to find not too big, not too small, kindergarten appropriate letter themed objects.<br />
I realized I stuffed two 'M's into Calvin's book bag, not an 'M & S'<br />
I'm not above letting the teacher assume this was the 5 year old's error.<br />
<br />
The van's back buckle was locked and my aggressive throwing open of the driver's side door, not only didn't help the buckle unlatch, but caused a swing back force, quick enough to punch my knee.<br />
<br />
I swore.<br />
The boys exchanged looks.<br />
Found common ground with each other.<br />
They stifled giggles.<br />
<br />
The air in the van, on the ride to school, was filled with my silent agitation.<br />
Wesley scream "<i>WATCH OUT! ….. That crow is up ahead in the road….</i>"<br />
In a jerked response to the panicked urgency of the first two words, I spilled my coffee on my lap and bit my tongue back, so I wouldn't bit his head off.<br />
<br />
A sleepy, cranky, woken up, Josephine wouldn't move her feet, for Calvin to get out of the van.<br />
She cried when the boys didn't kiss her good-bye.<br />
She typically cries, because they do kiss her good-bye.<br />
<br />
They didn't shut their doors after getting out.<br />
I had no shoes on.<br />
The ground has frost.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Right now, I'm on my last cup of coffee, only because the pot has poured the last of it's first brew.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I'm thinking about making another. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Josephine, much like her Mumma, has had her crankiness taken care of with two helpings of Pumpkin Spiced English muffins <i>{thank you Liz for turning us on to these}.</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
At least until lunch.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I have intentions of working out the kinks of the drastic turn of this day, but funneling it into productivity.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
The back to school vibes has depleted.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
We are very much into the throws. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
We are very much back into our normal. </div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I have hopes that the yin of a good morning turned bad, has to be yanged by a rough start turned to smooth ending.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I'm an optimist like that.</div>
Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-88746959479782272702013-10-15T08:55:00.000-04:002013-10-15T09:06:08.172-04:00Houston: We Have A Grounding. I wouldn't consider myself 'the fun mom' but I'm fully confident when I say that the kids certainly got stuck with a set of parents who could easily be tossed into the 'kids at heart' category.<br />
<br />
Nate's the first to initiate any food fights, I can't resist a good game of tag, and I don't know if there has been a slip and slide, we haven't used the authority of being an adult, to take the first runs down.<br />
<br />
I may have a secret stash of glow sticks for bon fire nights and there is always a can of silly string for emergencies.<br />
<br />
With that said, I think the kids could easily plead a strong case of having been stuck with a set of parents who could easily be tossed into the 'strict and stern' category.<br />
<br />
Simply, we have rules and expectations of behavior for our kids, that involve respect, kindness, fair play, and manners.<br />
<br />
I understand finding who you want to be is within the layers of the boundaries you push and I would be disappointed if the kids didn't feel it was important to challenge them. But I also understand my roll as a parents is being consistent with my follow through when these limits are inevitably crossed.<br />
<br />
Which brings me to the point of this whole post: Wesley's current grounding.<br />
This isn't his first rodeo with being grounded as punishment, but it is the exact same behavior that has gotten him thrown in this arena, every time.<br />
<br />
Sneaking screen time.<br />
Though this time around, I'm a bit conflicted, because he was sneaking …… reading.<br />
That's right, he was hiding under his blankets, reading a book, "<i>he just can't stop {himself} from reading, because it's so good</i>."<br />
<br />
If I said I was unhappy I had a kid who snuck book time, that would be a lie. The fact that he loves to read, thrills me.<br />
<br />
BUT, I saw him grab the kindle from my night stand, knew the weekend had already been full of late nights and told him it was too late for reading, sleep was the name of the game. I knew he was going to read, the minute he descended the stairs to his room… 10 year olds are predictable like that… and he did…<br />
<br />
This is his 4th offense of hiding under his covers in his room, sneaking whatever screen he is able to get away with lighting up… he's a tech addict… I get it… I support it… I allow plenty of it to be indulged in throughout the day time hours… but the guidelines were set… I told him no… he chose to do it anyways… my hands were tied… my follow through was necessary.<br />
<br />
And for the next 5 days, this is what I'm left with ….<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br />
A 10 year old, sprawling himself across any area, I'm occupying, heavily sighing, dramatically declaring his unhappiness and boredom for life in general.<br />
<br />
You would think, giving him this gift of time, would be more appreciated than it is... seeing as he has all the time in the world to burry himself in that 'must read' of his…<br />
<br />
Apparently, reading isn't as appealing to him unless it's taboo, so he's got another day worth of wallow, then I'll have to address this as well with chore delegations, which he'll hate even more…<br />
<br />
but being grounded isn't suppose to be fun and what I feel is good parenting, not always fun.Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-3260373785183728232013-10-06T10:19:00.000-04:002013-10-06T10:19:17.960-04:00Friday's Last{!!} Chemo WeakFriday afternoon, I lay in bed, looking at the remote just half a stretch across the bed from me. I really didn't want to watch TV, but it just seemed liked it should be on for some reason.<br />
<br />
Maybe I thought the house was too quiet, maybe I thought its distraction would perk my spirit, maybe it's because I felt like I needed to do <i>something</i> and this was all I felt I could muster.<br />
<br />
Though I don't know what my motivation was for turning on the TV, I do know, I was offended by the effort that stupid remote, was asking me to make, simply to get to it.<br />
<br />
I had a flash of thought about crying…. over a remote… that I didn't even want….<br />
<br />
I'd like to say I recognized the craziness in this situation, snapped out of my melodramatic state of mind, hopped right up, popped that TV screen on, and indulged freely into the mindlessness of all that day time TV has to offer, while laughing at my previous self, through mouthfuls of extra salted popcorn.<br />
<br />
I'd like to say this… but I can't… unfortunately, I continued to lay there… glaring at the remote, making no attempt to stop the negative thoughts from snowballing into more…<br />
<br />
And let me tell you, those thoughts snowballed… avalanche style.<br />
<br />
I beat myself up for committing to <i>so much in life…</i><br />
I laughed at the ignorance of everyone who thought I was strong enough to handle this life's challenge…<br />
I wallowed in my inability to <i>mind over matter 'it'</i>, this time around…<br />
I brought to the surface, every disappointment I've felt in others...<br />
I brought to the surface, every disappointment I've felt in myself...<br />
I resented the thought of others taking advantage of Friday's beautiful, sunny offering<br />
I resented the thought of others <i>not</i> taking advantage of Friday's beautiful, sunny offering<br />
I told myself I was pathetic and lame<br />
I had displaced anger<br />
I feel asleep<br />
<br />
I didn't wake up feeling <i>better</i>, but I woke up feeling less bad.<br />
And like every chemo weekend before, the more hours that went by, the more myself I felt.<br />
<br />
This Sunday morning, I'm back to me.<br />
Though I can't say my present self is impressed I allowed my Chemo myself to be consumed as I did, I think it was almost necessary, for me to have been.<br />
<br />
I know I'm not as weak as the person I was Friday.<br />
But I also I know it's important for me to recognize, I'm not as strong as the person I was a year ago Friday either.<br />
<br />
As much as I want to ignore the idea that I've been weakened through out this past year, last Friday's unexpected remote rage, proves I have.<br />
<br />
But, I'm also certain that from this resolved weak, will also come an unexpected sort of strength.Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-71873004744662518662013-09-28T07:49:00.002-04:002013-09-28T07:49:34.862-04:00Saturday Morning Stream of ConsciousnessRight now, I'm sitting in a still house, drinking coffee, with Pumpkin Spice creamer…. it's delicious.<br />
<br />
It's going to be a beautiful day. One that we will be able to spend as a family, all five of us.<br />
<br />
Having a day, with all 5 of us together, is rare… sure we spend plenty of time together, but that's typically in the trenches of daily routine, the hustle of the day.<br />
<br />
I so badly want to write a post that has nothing to do with cancer. I can feel this hollow pit in my chest, that wants to write, it's a feeling that keep growing in it's intensity, much like… well... cancer… <i>{har har har}</i>… whether it be about the boring, mundane, details of the day… or something more emotional.. I just want to write, creatively.<br />
<br />
But, if there is one thing I know about the release of writing is that it can't come forced.<br />
The fact that I haven't written for so long doesn't help either.<br />
The topic has bottle nosed itself, now hasn't it.<br />
Though our day-to-days no longer revolve around the mayhem of the diagnosis, a lot of the unprocessed feelings do.<br />
<br />
So I'm working my way, back into hopefully an increase of frequency of writing.<br />
Starting with exposing the pinball like pattern of my random thought….<br />
<br />
Like, how Wesley has decided to play the trumpet, which I'm really excited about. It makes me feel like such a mom, signing off on the school's band paper.<br />
<br />
About how I only have one chemo left …. and although the hair loss has never been an insecurity of my own or anything to do with the driving force of the decision of why I buzzed my hair so early in the game, I wouldn't mind, if the bits of fuzz, I do have remaining on this head, held on for 3 more week.<br />
<br />
Only flicker on the thought that people's actions have proven yet again, to speak louder than their words.<br />
<br />
Indulge in the projected thought of all the football food I'm going to plow into my face hole, come tomorrow afternoon.<br />
<br />
Acknowledge the fact that I really should use this day, to get the outside, 'winter ready' as the streaks of snow start to appear in the Mountain's crevasse…<br />
<br />
… and now that my family has started to flock from their rooms, with crusted eyes and still half a sleep staggered walks. Their demands of juice are high and requests for cartoons are being made.<br />
<br />
I need more coffee.<br />
<br />
How I had been craving corn beef hash, until I actually bought some and haven't had a thought about it since…. until now.<br />
<br />
But most importantly, it's going to be a beautiful day.<br />
<br />
Happy Saturday.Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-78178723535390667092013-08-11T11:41:00.002-04:002013-08-11T11:43:28.050-04:00Chemo's Half Way Mark: Now, Just That Far AgainLast night, I woke up around 2:00 am and couldn't fall back to sleep. In the time between unknowingly slipping into the world of dream, I had written a blog post in my head. I write often in my head, but can never remember any of it after it's mental publication.<br />
<br />
I'm satisfied just the same, but the therapeutic process, but wouldn't mind having such an effortless flow, with blogger opened and the "new post' page pulled up, because there were good things streaming. And in time, they will be addressed again, it would just be much more convenient for me, if they would resurface at this very moment.<br />
<br />
I'm in a weird state right now… I'm at my half way mark of chemo and the doctor has adjusted one of my med, in hopes to not make me feel so poorly… let me just stop right here and draw attention to the fact that I just put together the words, <i>"in hopes to not make me feel so poorly" …</i> apparently this adjustment of medication has also turned me into sounding like an 1800's century proper bitty….<br />
<br />
What I'm really trying to say is, I'm feeling good about only feeling this bad. Don't get me wrong, <i>this</i> bad, isn't <i>that</i> much fun either, but it seems to be lacking that underlining tone of panic that would creep into my chest when I would think about having to do it again … and again…. and again… and then again.<br />
<br />
Right now, I'm still laid up in bed, missing my babies, surrounded by empty milkshake containers, Advil on standby for a head that is aware of any increase of it's ache, and have every inch of my body covered with multiple layers, to ward off this unshakable coldness that some how still produces an impressive amount of sweat. But unlike the times before, the "<i>ride the wave</i>" mentality is followed by a tide of confidence that maybe I just might not break, after all.<br />
<br />
Everyone has been focused on this last treatment, marking the half way point, a small victory in a hard battle. I have been focusing on finishing this round's treatment, before even allowing myself to feel that satisfaction of only having to go <i>this</i> far, <i>that</i> far again, <i>{with radiation's path still looming} </i>but even now, I'm just feeling good, about feel better, when I've been prepared to feel so much worse.<br />
<br />
I'm not foolish enough to think that tomorrow my tune may change and when my moment of weak hits, I very well may shake my first at the false promise of today, because there is a lot I hate about all of this and those are areas that will need their therapeutic addressing as well.<br />
<br />
Let's just hope for reflective purpose's sake, it's one that avoids the wee-hours of being mentally published.<br />
<br />
Now, I nap.Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-79710070745858861802013-07-22T06:30:00.001-04:002013-07-22T18:22:08.357-04:00Dear Josephine, {3 years old}You've been three now for almost 2 month, this letter is a little late coming. I know, by the time you're old enough to read this, it wont matter how much time has passed between your birthday and now, but what will matter the most, is that it has been written.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8215_zps7c96791b.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8215_zps7c96791b.jpg" border="0" height="426" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8215_zps7c96791b.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8185_zps9c44c1df.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8185_zps9c44c1df.jpg" border="0" height="426" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8185_zps9c44c1df.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div>
If there is one thing I'm learning, it is that it doesn't matter when things get done, just that they do, because regret will only be found, in the un-did, when it comes to something like this.<br />
<br /></div>
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<a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_7986_zps0192d6a1.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_7986_zps0192d6a1.jpg" border="0" height="426" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_7986_zps0192d6a1.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_7935_zps3df81b8e.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_7935_zps3df81b8e.jpg" border="0" height="426" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_7935_zps3df81b8e.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8190_zps9c27c802.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8190_zps9c27c802.jpg" border="0" height="426" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8190_zps9c27c802.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8208_zps55786761.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8208_zps55786761.jpg" border="0" height="426" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8208_zps55786761.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Things this year have been unstructured and despite you being so young, I'm continuously driven by your spirit, within it all.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
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<a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8224_zps73033b99.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8224_zps73033b99.jpg" border="0" height="426" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8224_zps73033b99.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8229_zps0676aac4.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8229_zps0676aac4.jpg" border="0" height="400" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8229_zps0676aac4.jpg" width="266" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8218_zps419a4487.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8218_zps419a4487.jpg" border="0" height="400" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8218_zps419a4487.jpg" width="266" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8257_zps8c56a700.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8257_zps8c56a700.jpg" border="0" height="400" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8257_zps8c56a700.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<div>
You're a combination of beautifully bossy and a charismatic spit fire. Daddy is quick to remind me how you get your stubbornness from me.. and you do… but I love it.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8259_zps900ba834.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8259_zps900ba834.jpg" border="0" height="426" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8259_zps900ba834.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8277_zpsb78e24e8.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8277_zpsb78e24e8.jpg" border="0" height="426" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8277_zpsb78e24e8.jpg" width="640" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8298_zps7f6684fa.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8298_zps7f6684fa.jpg" border="0" height="426" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8298_zps7f6684fa.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div>
<br />
Stubbornness isn't a flaw, it's a force…and between you and me, that's what makes your father so nervous, he already knows at three year's old, you hold the world in the palm of your hands…. and as your parents, its the most brilliant kind of scary.<br />
<br />
As for me, there is an unexpected parenting pressure, having a girl.<br />
Out of all the three, you challenge me the most, on levels I'm thankful for you provoking growth.<br />
I sometimes worry if I'm leading you best, but at the same time know, I'm doing good, in raising you right.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8394_zpsd9c6419a.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8394_zpsd9c6419a.jpg" border="0" height="426" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8394_zpsd9c6419a.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8334_zps91be8e23.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8334_zps91be8e23.jpg" border="0" height="400" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8334_zps91be8e23.jpg" width="266" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8339_zpsd7cfca24.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8339_zpsd7cfca24.jpg" border="0" height="400" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8339_zpsd7cfca24.jpg" width="266" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8352_zps7da9fec5.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8352_zps7da9fec5.jpg" border="0" height="400" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8352_zps7da9fec5.jpg" width="266" /></a><a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8343_zps484aea53.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8343_zps484aea53.jpg" border="0" height="426" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8343_zps484aea53.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
</div>
<div>
<br />
At three, you love your princesses and the color pink. Bossing your brothers and loving them more. You're independent and certain, reserved and kind. How you got to be so girly, so young, with your love of walking in heels, playing dress-up and applying make-up, I will never know and never take the time to further question.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8321_zps1f0b6517.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8321_zps1f0b6517.jpg" border="0" height="426" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8321_zps1f0b6517.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You make our family, better.<br />
You make our family, whole.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://s1182.photobucket.com/user/srichardson236/media/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8306_zpsc832900b.jpg.html" target="_blank"><img alt=" photo IMG_8306_zpsc832900b.jpg" border="0" height="426" src="http://i1182.photobucket.com/albums/x450/srichardson236/Calvin%205%20and%20Joey%203/IMG_8306_zpsc832900b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I love you,</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Mumma</div>
Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-379509339069034987.post-4375989843730508712013-07-08T23:12:00.000-04:002013-07-09T21:50:50.787-04:00Chemo Eve's WeakThe fact that my conscious efforts of quality controlling the chemicals, preservatives, and GMO's that I let my body process, soak in, or come in contact with, is now being countered by the direct injections of the mac-daddy of all chemically generated poisons, has not gone unnoticed in the humor department, Irony… it has not gone unnoticed, in.the.least.<br>
<br>
Tomorrow, I go in for my second sitting of chemo treatments.<br>
<br>
As soon as any hesitation start to creep up, when thinking about it, my natural glass half full reflex coaches me to think how great it will be to have another treatment under belt…. how one more down, means one less to do… charging into the fire, is waaaaaay more satisfying than fearing it's flames.<br>
<br>
I've always prided myself on my ability to mind over matter things. I can grin and bare with the best of them and I'm stubborn enough to pressing forward the hardest, when I feel like giving up the most.<br>
<br>
Weak isn't something I show easily and rarely admitted to being.<br>
<br>
Chemo is pointing out my weaknesses, ten fold.<div><br>
Bottom line.<br>
I just don't want to do it again.<br>
<br>
I've never in my life experienced a flight response to a situation before, but the idea of running like hell from tomorrow, seems like a pretty great idea at this moment in time.<br>
<br>
I've been overwhelmed and continually humbled by the amount of support my family and I have received.<br>
<br>
People are caring, people are loving, people are good.<br>
<br>
This pothole of weakness isn't something I hope to stumble upon frequently, but know it will be unavoidable at times along this journey. And like tonight, it's within the words of encouragement, kindness, and support that I find myself jumping in, to catch me during this moment of vaulnrability, hopefully rally any strength, during the times I find my knees quivering amongst this burdened weight. <br>
<br>
I know, when the alarm sounds in the morning, like a corner bell, I'll emerge from the pocket, in a fighter's stance, but tonight, tomorrow can take its sweet ass time coming.</div>Samhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13630438614501785589noreply@blogger.com4