What if—
…there is time.
…you should say it.
…you do deserve it.
…no, it isn’t fair.
…your current approach isn’t going to change it.
…moving on moves you forward.
…they only win if you insist on defeat.
…I am glad you are here.
…you can—
(Finish It for me… What is your What If… In comments)
My Endings
… You can stand in your truth.
… You can eat carrot cake for breakfast
… You can let go
… You find your Muchness
If you’ve been reading this for a while, you know that I make a half assed attempt to write one of Mama Kat’s writing prompts from her writers workshop each week… well… because she is amazing… and two… I love the opportunities to work these stories into my blog, and just when I couldn’t come up with any other legitimate reason to use the word “clit” in my blog… this week… It happened… she gave me that reason… And I couldn’t pass it up… But there was another prompt that also made me smile when I read it… So I am writing both…
1.) Is your child a morning person? Share a story, picture or list of reasons that supports your opinion.
2.) I almost named my child _______, but chose _______ instead because…
It’s a BOGO… Buy One Get One…. even though you didn’t really buy anything at all… and chances are you are going to find these stories less hilarious and endearing than I do… well because he is Mine… and I love him
I Almost named my child “Tattianna Dawn”, But chose Johnathon instead because… About my fourth ultra sound at 21 weeks (I was a very High Risk Pregnancy, having miscarried several before, and being told I would never have a child) the Ultrasound technician said… “and this little line of pearls are his spine”… “hers” I corrected… they had told me two times with two previous ultra sounds that it was a girl… I had bought the fairy wall paper trim… and had the diaper bag embroidered with her name… and put up the wall stickers… and bought the crib bedding .. and bumpers… and “No, His” she corrected me… “They said it was a girl” I repeated calmly… monotone…. menacingly… “Well…” Zooms in on vital organ… “That is either the biggest clit I have ever seen… or you are having a boy” and I stared in awe at the monitor… and exchanged everything tearfully for Winnie the pooh … the tears of sadness and exchanging of pink for blue were exchanged for tears of joy only nine weeks later (very early) when my healthy little (really little 5pd) boy arrived and I never ever would’ve imagined having him be anyone else….
<Spongebob Voice> Thirteen Years Later
(almost… thirteen years in about 6 weeks! from this morning!!)
6:30 am – Open Door “Good Morning sweet boy! Wake up! Last week of School”
“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” Gutteral groan, full of drool gurgles… burrows deeper into bed
“Get up! We don’t want to be late”
“Unnnngggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” Gutteral groan,lifts pillow… Buries head under it
I walk over to the bed and rub the small of his back… His knees are tucked up under him… still… just like I have found him every morning since I can remember… Butt in the air…. I smooth back his once baby soft blonde hair, that is now course and thick… and still the color of straw away from his face and look at his perfect little squinched eyes… beautiful skin with one almond-shaped freckle on his nose (it really is almond-shaped… I didn’t know that happened) and I pull out the Mom voice “Dude”….. A smile spreads across that face… because he knows he has gotten under my skin… “Now”…
“Grrrrrrrr” flings the pillow at the cat that is sleeping at his feet and glares at the window and the light coming through it… as if asking “How dare the sun rise”…. tosses back his covers… and I exit the room… running into Mr Amazing in the hall….
“There is a Zombie in there this morning”
“Uhhhhhhhhhggggggg!!!” from behind the shut door…. Small Child is not a morning person.
We are fortunate enough to live in the path of this years solar eclipse… Mr amazing stood in line at the local planetarium for 45 minutes to get us glasses… They were completely sold out… by the end of the day….
This image was actually captured with Mr Amazing’s cell phone… through the glasses film… from our driveway…
I know that in our days, eclipses aren’t a big mystery — they occur when the moon passes between Earth and the sun. But imagine what they used to think!! Throughout history, the sun’s significance, along with its mysteriousness, have yielded an array of solar myths… There are five… Really cool myths about eclipses on livescience.com
And you can read about those… and see a million beautiful eclipse pictures on the front page of every newspaper and magazine today… But something getting a lot less coverage is 75,000 people converging on Chicago yesterday for the NATO protest was also pretty amazing…. Just felt it was my moral obligation to make sure you know about both
Mr. Amazing took small child Mothers Day shopping last Sunday morning, Small child had arrived home from his fathers… slightly defeated looking and present-less… and although I had assured him it was okay far in advance to this happening yet again… and talked him through how it would be okay days ahead… it didn’t make him feel much better…
So off they went… To what we call the “Magic Store” (its really the local Michael’s craft store… but the kids think magic comes out of there.. because whatever we do next is always amazing with our supplies…and they are right)
(imagine the spongebob narrator voice) TWO HOURS LATER
Small child finally after several nervous breakdowns and panic attacks chooses a gift and they come home…
Small child has a problem… I don’t know when it started exactly.. he has had it as long as I can remember… Small child cannot make decisions.. he wants them made for him… he is at a time in his life where he needs to be able to decide for himself…
I have never seen panic attacks (full fledged sweat on the brow, swallowing back vomit, room spinning panic attacks) over something as simple as where would you like to go for dinner… but he has them… he always has… we are working on it
Today I found this from one of my favorite people that I’ve never met’s blog… and I was inspired to do this (see image below)!!! For small child to keep with him at all times… this is by far the best advice Ive ever been given… In my adult life.. and I bet the same is true for my cute boy…
“Make one option heads, and the other tails. Hold the coin in your hand for a minute, visualizing the two options on either side. Take a deep breath, and toss the coin into the air. Suddenly it doesn’t matter which side the coin lands on – because you know which side you’re hoping it lands on. You have your answer. And it’s the right one.”
I remember when I found out I couldn’t have children… as all my friends were starting families…Holding precious little bundles… I remember being so sad… Because all I wanted was to be a mother… and crying each year … I remember when I became a mother (OH! There is another post there… And to think I had nothing left to write about when I started this)… Because they were wrong… and I had a little blue perfect bundle of my own… And I really came to understand what love was… and what life was about.. and who I really was… And he stared at me with adoring eyes that lit up whenever I entered the room… and when he told me he wanted to marry me when he grew up (he was two) and when he started to call me Yaya (Not momma, not my child apparently)… it turned to mommy… he laughed with me… he played with me.. he stuck lipstick up my nose and in my ears when I dozed off… Mothers Day! I loved it…
Then I became a Mother again … To a teenager… a broken little girl… who I had the honor of witnessing her mending… and thanked my lucky stars everyday for having been blessed with her … I couldn’t imagine life without her… And I accepted it, and I let it happen… and I was spoiled on Mother’s day each year… With mothers rings… and candles and incents… bubble baths… bathrobes…
Then there was the Mothers day… Towards the End with the father… He tried.. In his drunken, prescription pill induced haze to recreate any kind of goodness… He bought my favorite movie (I had pleaded for it.. and the time to watch it)… but when that time came… I couldn’t let him take the children… I couldn’t trust him with them… Not to drive… He grabbed them both… as I screamed in terror and fury after him… not to take them (They were so confused… they didn’t understand what was happening… only that I had lost my mind at this point… They didn’t know there was anything wrong with him… this was how they knew him… I had tried to protect them from knowing the truth… and now they didn’t understand)…. 16 and 6 years old… and he took them, I… in a heap of tears… and disappeared for two hours… I never watched the movie… I stayed on the floor… by the door until he brought them back… and I made him leave. That was the end… I know that now… It dragged on so much longer, but I knew at that point… He had taken my children
… And Mothers Day became something new…Mothers day became a day to celebrate children.. And the miracle of them… and my right… My RIGHT… to keep them safe, and be loved, and not about candles, rings, bubble baths… time alone… It became my day to remember how grateful I am for my children… And all children… and how magical they are… Suddenly Mothers day contained no pity… no anger… no self justified righteousness about being appreciated… and spoiled…. It became about the miracle of life…
I have had three momentous mothers’ days since that turning point…. … Mother’s day is the day I had my little sister’s children three years ago… because she wasn’t alive enough to be their mother that day… I was so grateful for the lesson that brought me… that I wasn’t the drunk sister, and I wasn’t the sister lying in a bed on life support… I was surrounded by all these small faces and fed all these mouths a breakfast I prepared! Not laid in bed and was served… and was so grateful….
Two mother’s day ago… My favorite gift ever from my Son (the one miracle I actually gave birth too)… He was so sad… Because his father was so cruel… he didn’t help him.. he had nothing to give… and I woke up to a small hand written note… with all the pennies he could find in his several hiding places (it was about a dollar and a half)… The note read… “Mommy, I love you… me love you long time (ha ha! He had heard this phrase)… Happy Mother’s Day”…. And all the change was wrapped up in it (This note still hangs on my fridge… I giggle each time I see it)… ;And I cried and cried, and hugged him and hugged him… and this was the year his sister decided to have three dates on Mother’s day rather than see me or call… I got a text… And it hurt at the time, but honestly, I must have done something right with her.. she was off and living her own life, independently…. Don’t worry… This is followed by my next favorite gift… Which I received last year (She was so terrified of missing it… I might have tortured her for her thoughtlessness) and the promise of a visit… on the right day…. (I’m not holding my breath)… and the favorite part of this gift was she was on her two feet, after the year she has had… and facing her own first mother’s day… even though she has buried her angel… and she thought of me… Just me…
I have several children who wish me Happy Mother’s Day besides my two (including my newest little addition courtesy of Mr. amazing I Now have Tall child, small child… and smallest child)… and I have several mothers I call besides my own and including my own!… and in the divorce decree… I get my son… And he will never again push me down, and take my babies… and I will hold and hug anyone elses babies who were blessed with the ability to birth them… but too lost to take care of them.. who need me too…. Mother’s Day… its really children’s day.
I don’t know who is reading this… I don’t know who continues to read my ramblings and rants… These can’t mean something to anyone but me… But I write them, because I Live Them… and it means something to me…
Topic source from my fav place 🙂
The lie I tell most often? “I’m not good enough”…
And “I have fried chicken”… I don’t really have fried chicken …. What I do have is this story instead.
I don’t really know where to start… at the beginning of the school year I gave my son the silent treatment for the first time although… this is not the first time he has done this… so before you judge my tactics…. he is a master of his art…. Shaggy blonde hair… innocent blue eyes… Looking up at me through those glasses I saved up for so that he would not be unstylish in Jr. High… While standing next to his viola that I rent (not just one, but two .. so he doesn’t have to carry it to school everyday) … and a hand on his keyboard (nice keyboard)… “I Practiced mom” and I glance down at his voice recorder, that is obviously not plugged in… and no chair is pushed up to the keyboard… no music on the stand … My eyes make their way to the bag that holds all of his music books (I couldn’t even begin to recall what I have invested in those) … zipped shut.. untouched… And look back at him and suggest he try a difference response… he chokes and sputters a little… I shut his door and leave him to his practicing … and head to my bedroom… I close my door, giving myself a timeout… Before I drive him in complete silence to his lessons (155$ monthly) … and he doesn’t break… The conflict in his mind is almost palpable… He is not going to burst into tears and apologize… he is too old for that … and I am not going to let it go… Calmly I turn to him and tell him I am not friends with liars… and so he can’t expect me to be friendly… I tell him to think of his own punishment… and it better hurt… He suggests no Netflix for a month… I scoff at him… With his schedule (that he chooses, good god please don’t start on me for pushing him too hard… I promise you I don’t have that kind of energy… this is him) There is no TV… and he doesn’t care… He then tries video games… again I scoff and suggest we find a new home for his fish (poor things died this winter anyways)… Tears! oh… almost over the rim.. is he going to break? … nope… He suggests giving up his Halloween Plans… this seems feasible to me… A few tears roll over his cheek and we agree… I don’t launch into the whole single mom bit… it obviously didn’t work last time… I don’t launch into that everything in my life I do… I do for him… So he can have these lessons he wants so badly… And these instruments… Instead I inform him that he could possibly end up a serial killer… Yes yes… I did… And I asked him if it was easier to lie to me this time… was that sick feeling is his stomach easing up… and if so… what would he have to do to get it back… I told him guilt was his friend… and he better embrace it… because if he didn’t feel it… he would be capable of horrible things… this scared him a little…
This post was inspired by… if not really done as prompted by Mama Kat’s prompt: List a lie that you consistently tell….
It’s been a couple of weeks now… since the onset… quite a long run for me of not wanting to get out of bed… not being able to engage in conversation with my loved ones… feeling like I am looking at life through some kind of film.. or screen… or transparent shell…. Not sleeping … not really able to focus on anything… a book… a movie… a game..
…and I wanted to write about this pit I seem to have willingly or unwillingly flung myself into… because it is on the list of cures… you know them right? call a friend… relax… take a bath… exercise… walk … work in the garden… paint… play music…These cures to fix these hours and hours of self loathing… personal berating… tears that come even when I sleep… which hasn’t been a lot… because whether this be depression… or anxiety… or insomnia… they are all lovers of each other… and are combined in one mess… and it manifests itself onto others as words not meant to sounds that harsh… and frustrations… and exasperation… and unhappiness that simply aren’t real
…. So I sat here and prepared to get it all down and out… and talk about it… and then I looked around … and saw everyone else writing about it… The Bloggess as usual (usual=althefuckingways) … says it best … Even the Headologist tweets today about feeling so sad bastardy… and I found myself wondering what the hell is going on? I mean… the sun is shining in most areas… it is spring… the winter blahs are supposed to have dissipated…
And I thought maybe… just maybe… I should not dwell on it… and continue to breathe… and wait… and I took out the headphones that had music that perfectly expressed those feelings… I might have to feel them… but I am done embracing them for now… and I will wait… And I will even spare you the “this too shall pass” and “learn to dance in the rain” *cough*bullshit*cough* … I will leave you with the one thing… that always… no matter how far I am away from real… helps..
Honestly.. I couldn’t even tell you why …
My favorite Grandmother ( I TOTALLY had a favorite… no contest) always said “You know the saying… If you don’t have anything nice to say…” she would then trail off and tell me everything she hated about everyone in my family… and I would sit there and admire her … Not only for being able to capture and hold the heart of the man who I thought walked on water…. But for having the balls of steel she appeared to have… and say exactly what she thought… and couldn’t have cared less what people thought…. That was a hell of a lead in to me not saying anything all today…
Cheer up little duck… It will get better
A few years ago a friend of mine… Who has been my friend since the dark days (High School LOL) was staying at my house and upon getting out of the shower… Towel still wrapped around her head, pulling her eyebrows up and making her look like a Vulcan… Tracked me down and in “that” voice (you know that voice right? the I’m really concerned about you, firm because I think you’re doing something wrong, but scared your going to go off the deep end if I mention it voice… I hate that voice)
She: ” Do you need to tell me something?”
Me: “Want to be more specific?”
She: “I found a piece of broken glass in the shower”
Still Clueless as to what the point is ME: “I don’t think i even own a glass shower product? What happened? Did you get hurt?”
She: “I was just concerned… Do you have anything to tell me?”
….. OOOHhhhhh I get it Me: ” About the glass? You don’t seriously think? Still? Its been almost 18 years”
She: “Are you okay?”
Me: “Never Better”
She: “Let me see your arms”
………………… I raged inwardly a little bit, but it really has been long enough and I at this point have raised a teenage daughter of my own and understand the fear that something could be wrong… warning signs could be being missed… did I do enough?…. and I raise my sleeves and show her the skin… Scars still jagged and criss crossing over almost every inch… but they have lightened with time, light like the color of my skin…not purple and raised… and screaming out the pain and shame I never spoke out loud….
She breathes a sigh of relief and states “You know I had to ask”
… and I hugged her and looked at those arms … excused myself to my bedroom and then checked my shoulders, my stomach and my thighs… Cutters are creative…. and noticed that all of them were right where I left them on my 19th Birthday… The day I decided that no one was going to hurt me anymore… that included me…. I deserved better. I’m 38 years old, a mommy! I am a “Recovering <insert several different options>” and I survived…. Okay, continue to survive, sometimes barely.
Most days I struggle still, but I find myself looking at new ways of dealing with feelings and situations, one of them is finding help on the internet… Several years ago, when feeling super self-destructive… I googled a few choice phrases, that I was feeling, and surfaced a page www.TWLOHA.com… And I found what I was looking for that day, to get through whatever it was at the time, and have used that same resource several times and this week, as I found myself sifting through this amazing organizations site I realized that maybe I should tell someone about it… Maybe someone hasn’t found it, hasn’t talked to their preteens and teens about it, and hasn’t found another way to deal with things yet… So inspired this blog.
I remember clearly the first time I saw someone with cuts on their arms, I was fifteen, she was a friend of mine, I was already in a tailspin of drugs, drinking, running away, being in all the wrong places at all the wrong times… but we were “friends”… and I told her, that if I ever saw something like that on her again, I would cut myself too, Thinking this would deter her, because I didn’t want her to hurt herself… She did it again, and I kept my word, I don’t even think we were friends for more than a couple of weeks, but I carried something from that friendship… a new coping skill… an escape route… and the single hardest thing I would ever have to leave behind to this day. It continued for years with me… Sometimes just to feel in control, sometimes to deal with what I was feeling, eventually just to feel anything at all…
Sometimes it wasn’t so bad, Sometimes I needed stitches, Sometimes I was angry when people tried to stop me, Sometimes I was angry when no one stopped me, Sometimes I resented the “body checks” Sometimes I wish they really knew what they were looking for, because I was finding a way.
I remember clearly why I stopped… Finally someone looked at me, not with fear, not with sadness, not with concern… but with a quirky little smile… She said to me “You know, this is a choice for you, some people don’t have the choice, but you do… You don’t have to be like this… you don’t have to be sick… you could right now choose to not be “that” girl anymore… But if this is what you want, we will always be here… open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year… even on Christmas, with our Styrofoam bulbs… because you can’t be trusted with glass… and we will take care of you.. But what you want is to be loved, and no one can love you until you learn to love yourself” … No one could love me unless I loved myself… I don’t know, now as a mother, if I agree with that… because I love my children unconditionally, regardless of if they love themselves or not… but I know it is hard …. Something about that rang really true to me then… and it still does… I didn’t stop right away.
Oh god forbid I let her think she had gotten through to me, or helped me… But it changed from then.. Suddenly I thought of myself as a the little girl they were looking at… a little girl that I wouldn’t let anyone cut into her skin… she deserved better than that… no one deserved that… and I started treating her/Me differently.. it was slow.. and I had to try one more time… several more times… to see if I could still find the release I needed… but it was gone… I didn’t want to hurt anymore… and I stopped.
Once a year, My Friends… my children… and I write “Love” on our arms (Sometimes it turns into an art contest)… To remember and raise awareness for those who are hiding this horrible secret… and to remind ourselves that all we want… and we can learn to Love ourselves. You will never find me in short sleeves, or really short anything… I don’t run up to strangers and show them my arms… And I’m sure 50 years could pass… and I will still have to bear skin if there is broken glass or a razor blade in the room… But it’s because they love me…
But I can show you my arms, I learned to love myself.
So there is my random story… and my random promotion of TWLOHA.
Picture if you will… the night I ran out of bed in my sleep…. The first time successfully since being married… Mr. Amazing caught me… but not before my hands were on the ground in the two foot distance between my side of the bed and the wall… My legs tangled into some mess of halfway still on the bed… and knees touching the carpet… Mr. Amazing has me by the shirt… and quickly scoops an arm around my waste pulling me back into bed… back into his arms… and back to sleep…. Picture if you will the next two weeks of me pretending nothing is wrong… that maybe it is arthritis showing up.. the weather is all over the place… and they did say when I got older the knees would suffer from that roll over… or that time I was hit by the car…. But I finally decided to have it checked… you know… make sure it’s not some bone cancer hanging out there or something…. skip forward a couple of office visits… because the knee and its injury is not the story here…
Picture if you will… Mr. Amazings sister… (she is going to need a name… hmmmph… lets call her crazy pants… because thats what I call Mr amazing when he wears my penguin pajama pants… and well… its his little sister… whom is the object of much adoration from all of us…)
Picture if you will … Crazy Pants and Small Child coming along… because they gave me a Valium to get through the MRI… and require me to have a ride home… I pop said little pill… and don’t really feel anything but calm…. I lay in the white chamber… comfy and the voice in my ear says they will play me some music and its okay if I doze off… and I laugh to myself… because this machine makes crazy electronic noises… and jiggle randomly… and I’m an insomniac… and ….
SCREAMING!!!! the screams seem to be coming from my toes and traveling up and out my mouth for the range on them…. Flailing of untethered limbs… the face of a very distraught… bordering on terrified imaging technician… more of them entering the room swiftly…. sudden awareness of where I am and what must have happened slams into my thoughts… like my face hitting a wall… I leap off the table… ask if they got the MRI done… they did… I assure them I am fine… and walk past them all to get dressed again…
They stand outside my changing room… are you okay.. how do you feel… are you doing okay…. I am trying to reassure them at record pace… quickly before they decide they are going to tell crazy pants… who has no idea… I get out into the waiting area quick as I can… and there is the very shaken looking imaging tech telling her not to leave me alone… make sure if I sleep someone is right there… he thinks it is the Valium… he doesn’t know this who I am… Crazy Pants looks terrified as we walk to the car… I try to laugh… I try to joke it off… I tell her “you should have seen their faces”… and laugh… I’m already dialing Mr. Amazing… forcing him to tell her I am okay… and can be left alone…. All I want is to be left alone to process this…
Its been two days… I still cry every time I think about it… I can’t sleep…
I have a sick sense of humor about it all…