Friday, October 30, 2009
When her white hands slipped into her purse I went off "looking" for something that might be important. On Sunday's I considered stealing all the trax out of their small holders so she couldn't grab any. When other children beamed at their parent's words of God ministries on Sunday morning, I felt embarrassed for them. Funny though some were not ashamed. But I was.
My little heart then was preparing the adult heart. I could have been easily influenced. I could have beamed at the fact my mom shared "The Good News" while we ate our Happy Meals. I could be one of those people who walk blindly into faith, I was kinda raised as such. But I am not and I do not.
I hate talking about religion. It kinda reeks of discomfort. It is a verbal fart. You try to hold it in but sometimes it just slips out. I often let it slip with a friend. I will say "bible-banger," or say something about a "prayer circle." Then wait for a response, if I don't get one I slowly walk away and pretend I didn't say anything. When I get a response I laugh off my little foible and move on.
When I see others today praise the word I get those same sorry eyes when trax and middle-aged housewives dictated my religion.
Don't call me a skeptic. I believe. And that is good enough for me.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
*Will it rain tomorrow? What will I do with the kids?
*Some words and phrase are overused and abused. The first time I heard the phrase "ebbs and flows" it was beautiful. I looked it up to see the true meaning, what ebbs and flows really meant, not just what I thought it meant. I used it a few times. Soon I saw ebbs and flow everywhere and it lost it's flair.
Ebbs and Flows was the queen, everyone looked. They took her out to all the fancy restaurants, and five star hotels. She went to Paris on the private jets. Soon she got a reputation. Five star hotels and restaurants became eating Chinese out of the carton in her fifth story walk up. I saw her yesterday in last years Prada and a ripped up Louis Vuitton purse.
I think some words and phrases should be like art, hung up on the walls of museums and admired. I think sometimes we should just enjoy the beauty.
* Megan watched The Little Mermaid. A little part of me hopes she is defiant. Part of me hopes I embrace her defiance. Really listen to the path she craves to walk, and be there so she doesn't have to turn to those that don't have her best intentions at heart. Who will use her desires for their own gain.
*Knit, purl, knit, purl...sometime I need sameness and a repetitive way. That is why I go back to knitting from time to time. A pattern, that in the end has a reward. Not always perfect, but still quite lovely in its imperfections.
*Will my voice come back? I know it will but what if it doesn't?
*Wake-up, get dressed, breakfast, clean-up, find something for kids to do, get lunch ready, lunch, clean-up.....
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Back to the story, morning in Meg's class, came home EXHAUSTED, relaxed to find only depressing stuff in my reader. I spent the next half hour crying, then looked down with my tear soaked eyes to find that Meg had eaten all my lunch while I was being a blubbering, sobbery idiot. Rolled my eyes and hoped to find something funny to read.
I could write something for you all, but I am sick.
Which is a good excuse I hope. Runny nose and congestion takes something out of you. I have no words in my head, no thought-provoking things to say. I can't tap-dance for you. Being entertaining is out of the question. Fact is I have no clue why I am even writing this now, it has got to be the most boring thing to read.
Your still here? Can't look away from this train wreck of a post.
Okay. What to say??
Why is it that when I am sick my husband is miraculously sick too?
Why can't I just be sick?
He is like a giant glory hog. It is not often that I have an excuse to lay done in the middle of the day and do nothing. I won't leave dishes in the sink just cause. If there is dishes in the sink it is because I need to rest and shiz. Fricker.
It is kinda fun being all horse and laryngitis-y. People call on the phone and I kinda freak them out.
Did they enter some time, space, phone continuum and instead of getting the loving woman, wife, mother that is me they get some $2 a minute phone sex operator. Just for fun I might answer the phone "Hello big, boy take off your pants so I can whip your naughty ass."
Sadly I am too chicken-shit to ever do that.
Okay serious now I have to nap-
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
I guess that is fine for some, but on a quest to make myself a better writer, the green grass holds me back. There is no descript to that, everyone has green grass, everyone knows that grass is green.
If you want someone to read your words you want them to read it with all five of their senses. You want them to see the grass. Feel the grass. Smell the grass. Taste the bitterness. Hear the whistle grass makes against the wind.
I will have to become a walking thesaurus, or at least walk with a thesaurus. I will have to stop in a moment and find the 1000 words to describe the every small thing I see. Realize that nothing is simple. Everything bends and twist and turns and sometimes breaks. I have to stop seeing the flaws, and find the beauty.
I have a feeling this will not be an easy habit to break, all bad habits die hard. To change a way of thinking. To take a moment to Touch. Taste. Smell. Hear. and REALLY SEE the world around me.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
"Forever and ever"
We walked hand and hand
your sister, you and I.
The trees canopied above.
the stones at our feet.
We watched the caterpillar,
felt the soft roughness
of their fall furred skin.
Glanced at the box elders
mating in the sun.
"How long do we walk here"
"As long as you want."
Friday, October 23, 2009
*If you are popular on Twitter and say you tweeted that you stubbed your toe on a dresser, you would have everyone and their mother's brother saying "Ouch feel better" and people would start form prayer circles for your bruised toe. People would be all like "Down with dressers." "I am getting rid of my dresser because it hurt so and so's toe and that is just wrong. It is a travesty." and then a website would form all about the ill effects dressers have on toes and people would boycott dressers. There would be a movement, people would have "Down with dresser" Twibons on their avatars. And this would go on till said popular twitter farts backwards and we all will have to boycott farting and be a bunch of bloated assholes.
If your not popular on twitter and you say your hacking up a lung, no one cares. You are not a blip. You could be dying and no one would care.
Twitter is not good on the self esteem.
*I know I am getting sick. I jinxed myself. I always do that.
*Last night when I was lying in bed my children took care of me. They gave me water and kisses. They checked on me and asked me if I was okay. It was a "good mommy" moment. My kids are caring, loving individuals. I am so proud.
* I have anxiety.
Anxiety does not make you lie.
If you lie
You spend the rest of your God fearing life
worried that someone will find you out.
As a person with anxiety I lie little as possible.
Lying is too much work.
If you are a compulsive liar
you have something more then anxiety.
*I miss the farm.
*I am going to lie down and take a nap.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
I have not put a second thought into not giving my kids the flu shot or the swine flu shot, what makes me question my mothering ability for a second is the fact that I am not scared of the flu. We don't do shots and I don't have anti-bacterial soap in my house. I am not scared of sickness.
I feel like, as a society, we are a giant cesspool of overly protective germaphobes. I know my kids are going to be exposed to germs and bacterias. I know my kids best defense is to have a strong immune system, which means they have to subject their bodies to those bacterias- the good, the bad and the ugly. I can't put them in a bubble. There are other ways to protect them.
My kids eat healthy, they wash their hands and they cover their mouths when they cough.
My kids get sick, but here is the thing they don't get as sick as the other kids or as often. In saying this I know I am jinxing myself. Right now they have that fall runny nose, I know I am only a hop, skip and a frickin' fall to the Dr. office but I'll deal.
When my kids do get sick it is not during flu season, it is after. I get through the season with a sniffle here and a cough here. That is it. When the kids are sick I call the Doctor and we get checked out.
Here is another secret, if you don't call your Doctor every time your kids farts backwards you will be taken seriously when your kid is really sick. My doctor respects the fact that I don't call him every other day. When my kids are sick I get to speak right to his nurse and she gets me in THAT day. When I call he knows my kids are sick, that they really need medicine. The fact that I don't go seeking out amoxicillin like a drug crazy whore my doctor takes me serious when my kids really need the antibiotics. It is called having a good working relationship with my kids doctor. Try it. It works.
I think when you are scared of something you are only setting yourself up. I like to think I am pro-active when this time of year comes around. I buy stock in oranges. I get out the vitamins. I make sure extra handwashing goes on. I prepare myself for the worst of it, and hold on tight. It has worked so far. Being scared is the biggest weakness, it is the chink in our mommy armor. My wish is that my kid and no kid gets sick this winter, but that is a false hope, I know.
We can only Keep Calm and Carry On.
Read what I would love to say to those moms in the preschool line here in the comment forum.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
WHAT SHE DID WAS WAS WRONG!
Period the end.
You can try say it eloquently
You can try to be funny
You can try to be snarky
But please would someone just call it what it really is
A person who lied
She played with people's,
The deep core of a mother.
She took people's trust in what she had to say and manipulated it to suit her own wants and needs!
THAT IS FUCKED UP!
I am not saying hang her out to dry.
or crucify her.
But please lets say what it is and that be the end of that.
Cut to the chase.
These above statement would not make my Grandma C proud, being that her motto is "Good, Better, Best never let it rest, till the good is better and the better is best." I got the good down. Occasionally the better thing I get, but sadly I can't sit still long enough to get the best thing down.
I don't want to be great at just one thing though, I know people like that. People who excel at what they do, but have a conversation with them about something else and it is dead. All conversation ends. Their best at that one thing, they leave the rest of the good to suffer, no hope at getting better at what is not their best.
Me you ask? What would I like to be best at? I would love to be a great writer, I want to do my best at this whole goofy "bloggin" thing. Right now I am far from a great writer. My ego lets me believe I am good. I could do better. Doing better will get me to my best.
And make Grandma proud.
Megan is a total cuddler, she just holds and hugs and sometimes gives me little kisses. She tells me her secrets and tells me she loves me. She lays with her doll wrapped in one arm and the other arm is wrapped around me.
Nolan is calm, for the first time during the day. The lights are out and the noise that keeps him on edge is gone. I anticipated that moment when he finally REALLY talks to me. He tells me everything about his day, everything I wanted to know when he walked through the door just off the bus. The ball in the corner and the bike pull him away, "I don't know" is usually the answer when I ask that age old question " What did you do today."
At night everything is different. It is us for 15 minutes. Me rubbing their backs. Me listening.
As I listen for the first signs sleep I think about what I can write. What I can I come up with when I put pen to paper. Sometimes I get nothing. I go downstairs and drown my brain with mindless T.V. crap.
On the nights I am inspired I lay still and run off what I am going to write and how. I structure it and plan it. And then I wake up and it is almost morning. My words were my lullaby. I have forgotten half of what I planned. I try later to write it out. I get...nothing.
Maybe it was just enough to think about it. I was working out a problem that didn't need pen to paper, it just needed thought.
When does a post come to you? Does it always end up how you plan it in your head?
Lately I have been oblivious on Health Care Reform. I am one of the millions of Americans who turn the dial as soon as it is mentioned, mostly because it is a been there done that kind of thing.
Really? You are going to reform health care? I will believe it when I see it!
Health care reform is something we can play off. Sure rising health care cost are a concern, I am there my husband's work insurance cost was raised eight percent this year alone. We have accepted it. It is almost like a type of Stockholm Syndrome. We are trapped, prisoners of the Health Care industry. We accept what is given to us because really we don't have a choice- or at least we feel like we don't have a choice.
Health Care is confusing, nothing can make me feel like a bigger idiot then talking with my health care representative, I am often driven to tears. Before I dial the number on the back of my insurance card I have to give myself a pep talk. I question if I am ready for the emotional roller coaster I might have to go on. I usually psych myself out, I end up paying out-of-pocket for something I probably shouldn't, because I fear I will hear the double talk and technical terms that sends me spinning. "Um okay I guess." is usually how the conversation ends and I shell out our hard earned money anyway.
Pathetic I know. I have a feeling I am in the majority of how the individual deals with health care. I know I am not the only one who feels trapped in this endless cycle.
I know I have to be a more informed person. Take action, know what is going on in today's world. So for Blog Action Day I make a pledge to make myself more aware of what is going on in this world. Being oblivious is no longer an option.
My first step was listening in on a phone conference with Madam Speaker Nancy Pelosi regarding Health Care Reform, an opportunity I happened upon thanks to Blogher. Although my question wasn't answered during the conference call I took the first step in listening to the conversation*, in a small way being apart of it all.
It felt good to inform myself. I will have more knowledge when I have to use that number on the back of that insurance card. I won't be driven to tears. I will understand what is being said to me, and not feel helpless. I can possibility help another person who feels trapped in that insurance blackhole.
Not a bad start, if I say so myself.
What are you doing today to take action on your blog or in your real life?
*I will link and talk about the call next week.
My friend posted this video on Facebook:
How relevant to my state of existence right now. I listened to these words and then listened again and again. I cried. So much of what he said was the answer to a previous post I wrote a few short days ago.
Daniel Beaty sings:
"And for years he has never said a word.
And so twenty-five years later, I write these words
for the little boy in me who still awaits his papa's knock"
It is funny how all your emotions can keep you from saying what you really want to say. Those above lyrics are what I have been feeling for years. Seeing his words written down made me realize that there is a little girl in me, waiting for that attention I never got, the attention I need.
Then Daniel said this and I became that girl. I lost all sense of adultness. It was like I had the answer I was looking for.
"Yes, we are our fathers' sons and daughters,
But we are not their choices."
Is denying that she is my mother and I am her daughter the best way? I can not deny that she gave birth to me, took some part of raising me. Had a role in how I am today. I am her daughter. She is my mother. But I am NOT her choices.
My love for my children is different. I feel it is different.
I do have that seed of doubt. It is planted by the life I have had. And like all seeds if you tend to it, water it, feed it, it will grow. If I allow that doubt to grow deep in me I will be my mother's choices.
Denying what was will not allow me to move forward. I will be stuck in a past I don't want to repeat.
Allowing myself to give into the totally love that I have for my family will allow me to plant a different kind of seed in my children. Seeds of love. Seeds of caring. Seeds of undying passion.
I believe that I am my mother's daughter. There is a tie there that can not be denied, and to do so allows me to stand still, it nurtures that seed of doubt. Instead I must realize I am not her choices. That I can not control how she acts and feels towards me, I can only control how I act and feel towards my own children.
More importantly how I act and feel towards myself.
No, these tears were of the selfish kind. These tears have been rattling me from the moment she was resting in my belly-the day I found out she was a she and she was mine.
I sat in the doctor's office eight months pregnant asking if I was crazy for worrying that I won't attach to the lil' girl swimming in me. That I won't know how to love her like she needed to be loved. Listening as the doctor tried to guide my fear. Reassuring me that he would make a point, to make sure we were attaching.
Three years later I can't shake it. This overwhelming feeling that I will screw it all up. That I don't know how to be mother to a girl, a girl who is so amazing.
I can't bear the idea of losing her like my own mother lost me. It is too much.
Now I can hold Megan. I can kiss her and be there.
I love her to the ends of the earth and back. and then back again.
Is that enough?
I have been told I am different then my mother. I don't feel it.
How could she not love me like I love my daughter?
How could she not have hugged me and kissed me like I hug and kiss my daughter?
I don't remember. I knew and still know she loves me. But the truth is sometimes love is not enough.
Love has different values and needs. What love is good for one is not good enough for another.
If that makes sense? How could my mother's love not have been enough for me? Why do I feel this overwhelming need for more from her? Am I asking too much? Is my need, for that love, just mine, something I shouldn't expect?
It is our history. Not Megan and mine's. It is so hard sometimes to separate the two. The only time we repeat history is if we allow it. If we don't make a conscious effort to change what went wrong. Knowing that if I let go of all those feelings of not being good enough I might be a better person. A better mother for her.
Monday, October 19, 2009
I do not do reviews here or do written posts as ads. I am a stay-at-home mom and writer so I do accept requests for paid ad space on the sidebar only!- any money helps my family and my addiction to the written word your help is appreciated!
Please contact me at mommyo2mt at gmail dot com
All blog post are non-fiction unless otherwise stated, labeled "fiction". I write mostly about my life, my thoughts mostly I just ramble on.
As stated above I do not write reviews, but if a friend asks me for a little help I will disclose if the product was given to me or if money was exchanged.
If you would like to be included in my blog roll let me know, I will try to get it up!
Any information here can change upon writer discretion, but all changes will be dated and timestamped.
added: Nov. 3 2009 12:34p As fund raiser coordinator for a local non-for-profit I do accept donations for this organization, as a BIG THANK YOU! I will either post a small post of thanks or do a side bar ad. All products and donations are used as prizes for the yearly fundraising carnival.
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