“Mom, why is everyone sad about Opa?”
“Because Opa died, Mija and we miss him.”
“Can we go see him?”
“No, we can’t sweetie.”
“Can we still love him?”
(Holding back tears) “Absolutely. We can still love him.”
“But we can’t hug him anymore?”
“No, but we can blow him kisses in heaven like this.”
“But can we blow him kisses if we’re wearing lipstick?”
“Yes, we can.”
“Mommy. I want to put my kisses in an envelope and give them to his heart.”
(Gets an envelope from the desk.)
“Will you hold this open while I blow my kisses into it?”
“Of course.” (On the verge of losing it, because oh my God, so precious.)
(Blowing kisses into the envelope.) “*kiss* One *kiss* Two *kiss* Three *kiss* Four *kiss* Five…”
She sealed the envelope and as she did an wave of emotions swept over my entire body. I was on the verge of an emotional breakdown of epic proportions. I took a deep breath in, bracing myself for The Ugly Cry when she held the envelope up.
“Mom” She said “can you please hold this? My butt itches and I need to scratch it.”
Emotional breakdown averted.
Category Archives: Parenthood
“Absence sharpens love, presence strengthens it”
Even though I have been working for a year, it’s different now. Now my full attention and time is required, not just a few hours every morning. I am blessed to be able to work from home so that I am physically still here for my children, but I am no longer able to provide the attention that my daughter needs throughout the day, so proper child care has been arranged. Starting tomorrow, she will be spending her mornings at Playschool and one day a week with Grandma. I allowed myself to cry about it last night– I have loved my short few years as a full time stay at home mom. However, I know that I’ve made the best decision for my family and that I am doing what I SHOULD be doing. This new position will not effect my boys much. I’ll be here to send them off to school properly and I will be here when they return from school. I’ll still be able to make breakfast and help them with homework. It is my daughter who will be affected as she will no longer be home all day with me and I will no longer be able to take her places whenever the mood strikes. That said– I know my daughter will thrive in her new environment and that the time I will spend with her will be that much more wonderful. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that jazz.
As sad as this drastic change feels at the moment, the truth of the matter is that I really do have the best of both worlds. And I am grateful.
This post is kind of like that song “Amazing Grace” in that it once was lost but now is found.
On the 3rd of this month, my first born child turned 15 1/2 years old.
He’s now old enough to get a drivers and a workers permit. He’s only 2 1/2 years away from legal adulthood. Soon enough, I’ll be able to hand him my car keys and say “go ahead and take the van to practice. BUT DON’T SPEED! And check your rear view mirror before making lane changes! And always use your signals! And don’t be flipping anyone off because there are crazy people out there who will shoot you! Oh, hell. Never mind, I’ll take you. Next time I’ll let you drive yourself, ok?”
I’m feeling very torn up inside over this. Like, if you were to call me and bring it up, I would probably do that thing where I would act like I was totally cool and not going to cry. My voice would crack and I would have to clear my throat and you’d be all “are you ok?” And I’d be all “I’m FINE!” And then two minutes later, I’d be full on sobbing because “I didn’t know he was going to grow up this fast! If I had known, I would have been more careful to remember every little detail about his childhood because I CAN’T REMEMBER WHAT HE SAID THAT ONE TIME IN KINDERGARTEN THAT MADE ALL OF THE TEACHERS LAUGH AND WHY DIDN’T I WRITE THAT IN A BABY BOOK SOMEWHERE?” And then you’d feel all awkward and try to think of excuses to hang up on me and you’d just shut the cell phone and email me later that night saying something like “Sorry about that. I was driving through a tunnel on that one road, you know, down there next to that one road that you wouldn’t know about anyway and our call got cut off because there’s no reception in that tunnel and damn if I still can’t get any service. I’ll try calling you sometime next year though ok?”
Fifteen and a half.
Yesterday, he was standing near the kitchen counter as I was putting dishes away. He was looking out the window while playing the air drums and humming a song. I stopped what I was doing and just watched him. I could see little traces of the sweet natured little baby that I once held in my arms, but mostly I saw a boy on the verge of adulthood and it took my breath away. Time stood still in that moment. And in my mind, I saw a slideshow of the years passing me by. I saw him sitting on the table at his first birthday party in his blue and white checkered jump suit as the family sang Happy Birthday to him. I saw him in his OshKosh overalls and tiny little cowboy boots. I saw him jumping around the living room doing “tricks” in his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle jumpsuit that I had bought for $2.00 at a thrift shop. I heard his soft little voice singing “You Are My Sunshine” while we drove around town doing errands. I saw his scared little eyes as I walked away, leaving him for the very first time at kindergarten. I saw him accepting his first (of many) citizenship awards in first grade. I saw him walking away from my car as I dropped him off at his first day of junior high. And then, I blinked and he was fifteen and a half.
It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that he will be driving soon. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that he will be applying for a workers permit soon. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that he will be bringing home a paycheck soon. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that he sort of kind of has a girlfriend who texts and calls him 80 times a day and that “dating” is just around the corner. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that graduation is less than 2 school years away. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that when I first started this blog he looked like this:
And 6 years later, he looks like this:
Fifteen and a half years– I knew that day would come eventually. I just had no idea it would come so quickly nor did I have any idea of the emotional punch it would pack.
Uncensored
My daughter asks a million questions a day. Her most recent line of questioning is related to bodies.
“Mom, why we have teeth? To chew?”
“Mom, why we have hands? To touch things?”
“Mom, why we have ears? To hear things?”
I usually just nod and say “Yes! We have ears to hear!” and “Yes! We have teeth to chew!”
Today, she decided to take the questions to a place she’s never gone before and of course she did it while we were out amongst the general public.
Her (in her most sincere, but VERY LOUD voice): Mom? Do you have hair on your butt?
Me: (Smiling at the dude who turned his head to hear my answer, you know, to play it off as if my daughter did not just ask me if I have a hairy ass.) No, G. Mommy does not have hair on her butt.
Her: (Again, totally sincere, but also VERY LOUD): Ooohhhh. But do you have hair on your pachina?
Me: Um, Yes. I do. (Sorry, no brazilian wax for me because ha ha AM NOT GETTING ON ALL FOURS FOR A COMPLETE STRANGER.)
Her: Oh man. I wish I had hair on my pachina like you.
Me: Look! A bird! Flying!
I’d like to think that if God had a blog, he’d post this and title it “Best Bedtime Prayer EVER!”
Dear Jimminy Father,
I pray that you help me to stay in my bed so that I don’t get in twubble.
I pray that you remember to buy lots of picture frames.
Oh! And don’t forget to buy a big party hat when it’s your birthday.
And Jesus name is Amen.
August Flird and The Number 4.
This is what you looked like at 6:39 am the day you turned 4 years old.
When you were a baby, I labeled you a “Drama Queen.” I know that it’s not nice to label people, but Girlfriend? There was no denying your dramatic ways.
This past year, I learned that your Dramatic Nature isn’t always a negative thing. Your flare for being a little bit over the top is proving to be an amazing asset. You can charm people where ever you go with your random singing. You don’t care who’s listening or where you’re at, if you want to belt out “Umbrella”, you belt it out with facial expressions and hip movements to boot. You almost always make the people around you smile or laugh out loud. When people tell you how beautiful you sing, you always say “Thank you so much! Have a great day and come visit me at my house, ok?”
Of course, not everyone finds your singing to be as precious as we do. Some people give you dirty looks and you’ll ask me “why is that lady mad, mommy?” I want to say “because she’s heartless witch!” But I usually tell you something like “not everyone appreciates hearing other people sing, because they like peace and quiet.” You’ll find out in time that there are jerks in the world who don’t like for other people to be happy in their presence. And you’ll learn to ignore them and keep being who you are, because you are wonderful and joy and sunshine on a cloudy day.
Can I talk a little bit more about your singing? Your singing is one of my favorite things in life. It brings me joy, laughter and sometimes, you’ll bring my to tears with the sweetness of your voice and the expressions you make while belting out a tune. I don’t know many people in the world who can take the numbers and turn them into a theatrical production. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one.
When I think back on this past year, the two things (because singing and pink!) that come to mind are “Lipstick” and “Hair” because OH MY GOD THE LIPSTICK AND THE HAIR.
You’ve pretty much destroyed/took over every tube of lipstick that I own, but you especially loved my bright red Estee Lauder. You had to take it with you everywhere that we would go. You’d apply it repeatedly in the car on the way to wherever we were going. By the time that we would arrive at our destination, your lips (and most of your face) would be covered with bright, red gloss.
Oh, the shiny, red joy!
You eventually decided that lipstick just wasn’t enough and every single day, I’d find you in my bathroom, painting your face, Tammy Faye Baker style.
I don’t mind sharing my lipstick with you. Lipstick makes you happy and the one thing that I want for you in life is for you to be happy. But do you know what I do mind? The fact that you’ve become obsessed with a hairstyle called “The Princess Fiona.” Basically, TPF is when I pull your hair back into a pigtail and then leave a few long pieces in front for you to flip around all princess like. I have no idea why you named it that, but every single time that I do your hair you say “I want it like Princess Fiona” and I will get annoyed and say “how about I do it like Princess Leah!’ And you’ll start to whine and say “No! I want it like Princess Fiona!” and I’ll say “How about I put a beautiful braid!” And you’ll get REALLY ANGRY and say “MOMMY JUST PUT IT LIKE PRINCESS FIONA BECAUSE THAT IS HOW I LIKE IT.”
I get frustrated because you have the most beautiful hair in all of the land and I could do so many beautiful things with it, but you are unwilling to let me. Except for once in a while, when you’re in a really good mood you’ll let me do something beautiful with it.
But, it never lasts for long. Before I know it, you’re ripping out the braid or buns and asking for me to put it like Princess Fiona.
I have proof of how much you love the Princess Fiona do. A few weeks ago, you were in your room quietly reading books. Or so I thought. “Mom, don’t worry. I cut my hair beeeeeautiful.” You shouted from your room.
My heart dropped. I ran to your room and found you standing in front of the mirror with the scissors in your hand, a mass of hair on your dresser and freshly cut, very short bangs. You were very proud of yourself until you realized that, um, you had very short bangs and you could no longer do your hair like Princess Fiona because OH MY GOD THE BANGS ON YOUR FOREHEAD.
This went on for a couple of hours. You’d stop crying, then you’d feel the bangs on your forehead, try to rip them off and when you were unsuccessful, the tears would began to fall again. It was probably the most traumatic experience of your 4 year old little life and I am sorry that I laughed, but I’m sure by the time you’re old enough to read this, you’ll laugh too.
I’m not quite sure how to end this post. There is so much I remember, so much I want to tell you, so many things that I want everyone who reads this to know about you, my sweet Lil G. Because…You? You are simply wonderful in every way.
Smart. Thoughtful. Stubborn. Affectionate. Polite. Considerate. Independent. Hilarious. Talented.
Some of your characteristics have the potential to get you into trouble in life. That is why I take my job as your mother very seriously. I want to steer you in the right direction, correcting you and setting you straight when it’s called for, but also never wanting to break your spirit. I know what it’s like to have your spirit broken. I know what it’s like to be told your dreams will never come true. I know what it’s like to be too ashamed to stand up for yourself. So, I will make sure you know the power of your voice, but also know that there is a time to be quiet, listen, learn and plan your next move. I am and will always do everything in my power to make sure you choose the right path for you.
Before I end, let me say one (or 10) more thing(s).
I am in awe of you and always will be because you are the daughter I never thought I’d have. Thank you for bring joy into my life. Thank you for “fixing my hair” when “it’s so ugly.” Thank you for “helping me clean” (even if it really means “making more of a mess.”) Thank you for telling Daddy he should make me eggs for breakfast when I’m working. Thank you for reading me stories. Thank you for not saying “Asshole” anymore because that could have got me into a LOT of trouble with Gramma and Grammpies. But mostly, thank you for bringing joy, love and perfectly timed farts into my life.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
Happy, Happy Birthday, Beautiful Girl of mine.
What Three Years Later Looks Like.
There’s a Very Good Chance This is Only Funny to Me.
Emergency Gynecology appointment in an hour so I don’t have time to write much, but I wanted to show you a video I took over the weekend.
I was on a Sound of Music kick this weekend and I kept playing the songs over and over. My daughter who apparently can not stand the sound of my voice, kept coming into the room with excuses as to why I needed to STOP!SINGING!RIGHT!THIS!MINUTE! Of course, this made me want to sing louder because “I can sing if I want to! You are not the boss of me little one!” So, I put on Edelweiss for the 80th time, turned the video camera on and placed it on my desk so that she wouldn’t know it was on and began singing in the most dramatic (annoying?) voice. Within .3 seconds, she was in my room asking me to stop singing because “The baby (who does not actually exist) was sleeping!”
Keep in mind as your listening that my Uncle once told me (in front of my entire family after watching a video of me singing at church) that I sounded like “A dying cow.” SO, NO NEED TO TELL ME I CAN NOT SING. I already kind of know.
If She Ever Asks Me To Draw The Celtics, I’m Going to Draw a Big Hairy Ass Checking Itself.
Whenever I sit down with my daughter to color, I always get a little bit nervous that she’ll ask me to draw something other than a happy face or a flower. You see, her dad can look at a picture of something and copy it to look almost exactly the same. So, she can go to her Dad and say something like “Dad, can you draw Shrek?” And he’ll say “Sure I can! Bring me the DVD so I can look at it!” And within a few minutes, she’ll be smiling from ear to ear, running around the house showing off the custom drawing of Shrek that Daddy made for her.
Now, whenever she asks me to draw something for her it’s a completely different story. Every single time she asks me to draw something for her there is an emotional breakdown of some kind.
“That’s not Snow White! That’s a piece of poop! WAHHHHH!”
“No! Look! It’s Snow White! Look at her pretty hair!”
“That’s not hair! That’s poop! I WANT SNOW WHITE NOT POOP! WAHHHH”
“That’s the best I can do, little girl. I’m sorry I’m not talented like your Dad!”
So, imagine the horror I felt deep down in my soul yesterday when we were having a precious little tea party and my daughter blurted out the words, “Will you draw Woody and Jesse for me, Mama?”
SHIT.
I tried explaining to her that I can NOT draw and “Hey! I have an idea! Let’s wait til Daddy gets home and we’ll ask him to draw Woody and Jesse for you! He loves to draw for you!”
“But MooOOoooOm! I want YOU to draw them for me!”
There was no getting out of it. I was going to have to try to draw Woody and Jesse. This wasn’t going to end well.
She brought me the DVD covers and I began to draw. She leaned in and watched me intensely as I began to sketch. My heart was pounding. My hands were sweaty. I knew it was only a matter of minutes before we’d both be laying on the floor in tears.
When I was finished drawing, I took a deep breath and waited for her response. I was fully expecting the “OMG THIS DOESNT’ LOOK LIKE WOODY!” Emotional Breakdown because, well…
She looked. She tilted her head. Then, she turned to me and said “MOM!”
Oh NOES. Here we go, I thought.
“You didn’t give Jesse eyelashes!”
She grabbed the pen from me, begin to add some lashes and when she was finished, she giggled and said “there, now it looks like Jesse!”
Sure it does. If Jesse were a demented Old Circus Monkey*!
She loved them. Absolutely loved them. And that is why I love that little girl– she is so unpredictable and almost always in a wonderful way. Every day is full of surprise and new adventures and I am enjoying the hell out of her and her Dramatic ways.
(Speaking of Dramatics… I leave you with this gem. Numbers in Opera.)
*If you get the reference, I kind of love you.
Happy Mothers Day, Indeed.
Yesterday, my boys asked if they could spend the night with their uncle. My first reaction was to say “Absolutely not! Tomorrow is Mothers Day! How dare you even THINK about not being here with me on Mother’s Day!” However, not wanting to be the overbearing mother who guilts her children into doing things that would make her happy, I said “yes, of course you may spend the night with your uncle.” I was secretly hoping they had simply forgotten that it was Mother’s Day and once they realized it, they would come to their senses and tell their uncle “Maybe next week. We can’t leave our Mom on Mother’s Day!”
That never happened. They packed their bags and my brother picked them up at 11am.
“Have fun!” I said as I kissed them goodbye. I smiled and waved as I watched them drive away. The smile was a big, fat lie. My feelings were hurt. But, again, maybe they forgot! And I couldn’t possibly hold it against them, especially since I chose not to remind them.
I tried to keep pretending that they simply forget it was Mother’s Day, but curiosity got the best of me. Fifteen minutes into their 30 minute ride to my brother’s house, I called The Teenager’s cell phone.
“Hey… did you forget what tomorrow is?”
“No, Mom. I didn’t forget. It’s Mothers Day!”
“You knew it was Mother’s Day? And chose to spend the night with your uncle anyway? I won’t have my boys here on Mother’s Day? That hurts, Son.”
(So much for not wanting to put guilt trips on my children!)
“Mom… We will be with you in spirit.” The Teenager said in that smart-assed Teenage Tone.
“But I can’t hug your spirit”. I shot back.
He laughed and told me not to worry– they had plans to take me to my favorite restaurant as soon as they came home from church. At that moment, I decided it was time to put the guilt trip to rest and make the best of the situation. “Well, that’s nice. ” I said “I’ll miss you guys.”
I woke up feeling sad that they weren’t here. It’s the first Mothers Day without my boys here and as much as I love LOVE LOVE my daughter, it wasn’t the same without them. I know I’m being Overly Dramatic about it, but I feel that The Dramatics are totally justified in this situation. I got a taste of what it will be like when my children are adults out on their own (and one of my children will be an adult in LESS THAN 3 YEARS) and I don’t like it.
I remember when they would wake up at 5am from excitement of Mothers Day. They would jump into my bed, hug me and kiss me all over while saying “Happy Mothers Day! We got you a present! Dad? Can we give Mom her present?” I’ve always understood that my children won’t be here with me forever– that they’ll grow up, move out, establish (hopefully wonderful) lives of their own. But, to experience my first Mothers Day without them was almost more than my prematurely beating heart could bear. I hated not having them jump in my bed this morning. I hated not being able to hold them close to me and tell them how lucky I felt to be their Mom. But mostly, I hated that I had to feel just a tinge of the emptiness I’m surely to feel when they’re out on their own. Would they forget to call? Would they be too busy “SPENDING THE NIGHT AT THEIR UNCLES” to visit me? And just as I had worked myself into a “My children don’t love me and aren’t ever going to visit me when they are out on their own” sob-fest, the phone rang. It was The Teenager.
“Happy Mothers Day, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Andrew. And I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Mom. I’ll see you when I get home from church. Here.. Ethan wants to talk to you.”
“Hi, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.”
“Thank you, Son. I miss you!”
“I miss you too.”
And then he said something I never expected.
“Mom… if you to your computer, open up Word and click on file, you’ll see a document titled “The Perfect Mother.” Open it. I wrote that for you before I left.”
Those words literally took my breath away. My son had thought of me and had left me something so that I knew how much he loved me, even if he wasn’t here with me to tell me in person.
“I’ll go open it right now.” I said, fighting back the Tears of Joy. “Thank you, Son. Thank you so much for thinking of me.”
I hung up the phone and ran to the computer. I opened up Word just as he had instructed me to do and then I saw it. The document titles “The Perfect Mother.” I opened it and this is what I found.
The Perfect Mother
To: the greatest mother
By Ethan
You are so great,
You are very helpful,
You love me dearly,
And you make life joyful.
You encourage me,
You make me happy,
You are very thoughtful,
You make me feel like laughing.
You work so hard,
You work for me,
You’re a hard worker,
And you work for the family.
You drive everywhere,
You drive me to school,
You drive to the store,
But not in a pool!
You can be strict,
But that’s okay,
You are never mean,
And you are always ready to say, “I love you son!”
I love you mom, Happy Mothers Day!!!
That kid.
The sadness that I felt was gone the instant that I read that, because in that moment I understood something wonderful. The love that I have for my children is great. The time that I’ve spent with them means something to them. They know that I love them with every fiber of my being and I need not worry or fret about how it will be when they grow up and move out on their own. They will not forget all of the years that I’ve cared for them and taken care of them. They will remember and will carry it with them no matter where they go. And even if they’re not physically here to tell me jump into my bed and smother me with hugs and kisses, they WILL be here in spirit, just as The Teenager said.
Knowing that I’ve had a positive impact on their life–knowing that they see my imperfections, but don’t hold them against me because they recognize that everything I do for them comes from a place of love, that right there is enough to fill any void I may ever feel when they’re physically not here with me.
That simple poem really helped put things into perspective for me. I will forever be grateful to my Son for taking the time to write it. What I thought was surely to be the Worst Mothers Day ever has turned out to be one of the best I’ve ever had.
(Breakfast courtesy of PigHunter, who totally shocked me by making a breakfast that looked as wonderful as it tasted. Who knew PigHunter could be so creative?)