Category Archives: Body, Mind & Spirit
everything physical, mental & emotional about being a woman and a mother
It’s Tuesday. It’s been a week since I’ve posted. I don’t know how some of you Moms out there do it? – posting every day, or even multiple times a week? Maybe you just don’t sleep? Maybe you have older kids? Maybe you’re just a little more motivated than me? What ever the reason – you inspire me. I read your posts (it may be a week or so after they get posted) and I really do smile, laugh, agree and comment when I get the chance. I’m bad at that – commenting. I wish I was better. I have grande intentions of reading your blogs every day and posting wonderful, meaningful but fun comments… and then life comes and smacks me in the face. Bam!
Anyway, you do inspire me. You inspire me to keep on pushing though, to keep writing, to keep the creativity alive. You inspire me to share my moments – whether good, bad, ugly or beautiful.
This post is for you
For all of you whose blog I once visited and liked
And perhaps even have left a comment or two or more
For the times you have clicked on my blog
For the comments and smiles you have reciprocated back to me
For writing with honesty, passion, humor and emotion
And for giving me a place to go read without judgement
Your blog keeps me going
Even if I visit it less often than I’d like
Your blog is in my mind, in my vision
I think of it, I think of you
Thank you for writing
I promise I’ll visit again soon.
Oh yes, today has already been a great day, and it’s only 9:36am! Both boys got dropped off at school (happily, I might add), checks were deposited into the bank, a quick run to the grocery store for milk, all before the bell rang at Zack’s Kindergarten. I even finished my coffee – without gushing it down my throat – and ate half an apple (the other half I am enjoying now). I’m dressed in clean clothes (as opposed to the clothes I sometimes sleep in from the day before – I know, don’t judge), and I even have a teensy bit of motivation to take a walk later today in this gorgeous pre-spring weather.
So, what will I do with my “free” day? Well, for starters I get to write! YAY! Writing makes me happy, fills a space inside me so that it doesn’t get filled with junk. Then I’ll finish preparing for a meeting Will and I have on Friday for our taxes – yeah, that’s not so sexy sounding, but none-the-less, it’s important. After that, a quick 15 min aqua-massage at this new self-automated spa (more on that later) before it’s back to reality and an afternoon of kids.
I must say, the days when I get a true break, I am so much more prepared to deal with the boys. It’s amazing how such a simple thing of free time (which isn’t always so simple to attain), can have such a grand impact.
Cheers to a happy, healthy, harmonious day!
This week I am dedicating to myself. It’s all about me, me, me. Sounds a bit selfish I know, right? Wrong! I am a true believer that if we don’t take care of ourselves, we can’t take care of others. I dole out this advice quite often, but it’s a lot harder to follow it.
As I was relaxing during my massage today, I was thinking of all the things I have planned and scheduled to do for myself this week. I’m actually quite proud… and pampered.
Yesterday, in prep for today, I ate a good dinner, passed on the wine, and avoided the remaining scraps of sweets tempting me from the kitchen. This all after a pretty fun day hanging out with Brayden while Zack was back to school.
Today is day 1 of a 3 day juice cleanse. I’ve never done one, but have been wanting to try one for quite some time. I did some research, decided that after the holidays was a good time to start (hey, I wanted to enjoy my Christmas feast and New Years champagne), and found the best option for me. So far, the juices are pretty tasty!
Tomorrow I will continue on my juice cleanse.
Thursday is my final day, and also a day of volunteering in Zack’s classroom. I missed doing that over the past two weeks while he had winter break.
Friday is date night and Will and I are going to see Les Miserables. I can’t wait! It has always been my favorite musical, and I am excited to see it as a movie.
Saturday I have an all-day retreat with my Cranio Sacral Therapist (have I mentioned how much I LOVE going to see her, and how much she is helping me?).
Sunday is family day with no concrete plans – just the way I like it.
I’m feeling pretty good (partially due to the massage, and the facial that followed) that I am doing something good for myself every day this week. A daily special, if you will. It feels nice to put myself first, without feeling selfish.
I challenge you, what will you do today, tomorrow, the next day… to take care of YOU?
One might assume that when speaking about “loose screws” I might be referring to the state of my mind. I can’t blame those thoughts from appearing, as it seems totally logical that I might have a few loose screws rattling around in this brain of mine, much like a broken bag of marbles on a freshly polished floor, just rolling along to nowhere in particular. However, these loose screws that I am referring to today happen to be the six giant titanium screws I had surgically removed from my knees just five days ago. Ouch! I know!
Thirteen years ago I had pretty major knee surgery – both knees (not at the same time – gosh that would be CRAZY! – nothing like the double knee surgery I JUST had…) in which they drilled my bones and screwed them back into place, three screws in each knee. Most recently, they had been bothering me quite persistently and I chose to have them removed, which in similar patients to me, is quite common. It was a “minor” surgery – if there really is such a thing. I still had to be prepped (which included the fasting of any and all foods past midnight and no liquids past 4am – ah, that part wasn’t so bad. I made myself a grilled cheese and avocado sandwich at 9:30pm and drank enough water before I went to bed so I wouldn’t wake up thirsty; I’m surprised I didn’t leak like a sieve during the night), and I still had to go “under.” That part is always a little sketchy for me. It was my fourth time (once for each knee way back when, and then once when I had my wisdom teeth pulled), but I was still quite nervous – understandably.
Anyway, I won’t bore you with details or gore you with anything else, but I will share that I am sitting here now with an ice pack on each knee, because yes I was CRAZY and did them both at the same time. Everything went great, normal procedure, and I even got to keep the screws (which I was planning on taking a picture of for this post – don’t worry, they’re fully sanitized – but that would involve actually getting up, hobbling to the kitchen to get the camera, hobbling back into my bedroom to take the picture, hobbling into the office to download the picture to my ancient – a.k.a. slow – computer, and then hobbling back around the house to, well, to just hobble some more). Needless to say, there will be no photo to go with this post – please accept my humble apologies.
Okay, where was I – this percocet must be kicking in… Oh yes, I am sitting on my bed with my laptop, ice packs on my knees, thankful that it all went well and that I am able to hobble around without the old-lady walker (no offense meant there) and even for the first time, no crutches today! It is a milestone day today. I can walk! I will admit, slowly, v e r y v e r y s l o w l y, but I can put one foot in front of the other and move forward – or whichever way I so choose to move. It’s kind of metaphorical. Baby steps. One foot in front of the other.
My boys have been great through all of this. All three of them. Will has really taken care of me and taken care to see that I’m taken care of. And he’s gotten a bit of a taste of taking care of the boys all by himself (as I hid in our bedroom passed out on pain killers for the first two days). Zackery has been super helpful too, and comes running in every morning and after school to see how I’m doing and to just say he loves me. Bless him I think I’ve heard more “I love you’s” from him – and from Brayden – this past week than months combined. I do truly feel loved. I’ve had a babysitter the last two nights to help me with bedtime since I still don’t have strength enough in my left leg to pick Brayden up, let alone stand up with him after rocking him in the chair for bed. He has been sad and wanting Mommy to put him to bed and rock him, but he has been wonderful in letting the babysitter do it and understanding that it wouldn’t be so good for Mommy to fall down and drop him – nope, not so fun!
So with baby steps I progress – to full mobility of my legs, and to full potential of my purpose in life. One foot in front of the other. And if every now and then I have to remove some loose screws, well then so be it.
I’m not going to make excuses, I’m not going to pretend life is perfect, I’m not going to beat myself up because I haven’t written a post in almost a month. YIKES! I’m not going to tell myself I should have, I could have or if only I would have. Why bother? I can’t change the past, and frankly, who cares? I don’t get paid to write (ha ha, well, not YET), and I keep reminding myself the purpose of this blog – the original reason I started – was as a personal outlet and somewhere I could tell my story. My story just happens to be pre-occupied lately, but it’s still in here, and I will continue to write it, but at my own pace.
It’s happened before – lapsed time between posts. And, life still always goes on. Today I happen to have a few moments before getting back to the kitchen to clean up the dirty dishes from dinner, but they’re not going anywhere (it’s not like they have legs and will just get up and walk away – although how nice would it be if they washed themselves? hmmm).
So, real quick, to catch up on what’s been happening in “my story,” Zack is still greatly enjoying Kindergarten; Brayden started preschool/daycare two days a week (but missed his 3rd day because he was sick – again… the poor little guy gets it bad); I started volunteering in Zack’s classroom every other week – which I absolutely LOVE and if I had more time I would do it more (I have to remind myself that “my time will come” but right now I have to prioritize my boys until they are a little older – which means not spending all my “free” time doing “fun” things – a.k.a. I need to work a little); I have my 20th high school reunion this coming weekend (WOW, I’m starting to feel older than I feel); I had a session with a Cranio Sacral Therapist (I’ve always found myself drawn to alternative medicines, and I am just tired of Doctors not knowing what’s wrong and sending me off for more tests); I’m going to see my sister in Seattle in a few weeks – all by myself (no boys allowed)!!! And, briefly, I think that covers it – well, it’s all I can think of right at the moment, which shall suffice because I’m being present in the moment.
I’m still grieving. I miss you. This isn’t scripted or thought out, it’s just me, writing from my heart because I’m sad, I’m angry, I’m lonely and I miss you. Truth is, I never really even began to grieve for you. I probably am in a butt load of denial (probably why I still haven’t erased your phone number from my phone or deleted your email from my computer). I miss you and I’m mad at God for taking you when he did. You didn’t deserve to die so early. You had fight. You were a Grandmother and none of us even knew it. You never got to see those precious little babies of mine in person. You will never get to hold their delicate hands, touch their soft skin or stare into those innocent little eyes. They will never be able to hug you or sit on your lap while you read them a story.
Dad is dating. I guess he calls her his girlfriend now. Her name is Chris. She is nice. I’ve met her once. She looks like you. I can see why Dad likes her. He says he’s falling in love with her. Zack and Brayden sat on her lap and she read them stories. That should’ve been you. I wanted it to be you. Why couldn’t it have been YOU?
I know you know them. I know you’re here with me and see me and my family. But I want you HERE. I want to sit next to you and laugh and share memories. All I have now are memories. I want more. I want you Mom. I miss you Mom. It’s not fair.
I’m hurting. Really bad. It’s holding me back. I’m withdrawn. I’m not who I know I can be. I don’t want to grieve. It hurts. I’m sad. I can’t talk about it. I just cry. I avoid talking about it. I act like I’m okay. But I’m not. I’m really not okay. It’s been almost 6 years. Why is this so hard? Why is Dad okay? Why is Susan okay? Why am I so sad and hurt and angry?
I want Dad to be happy. He deserves it, and I know you would want him to be. I know he has talked to you. I don’t know how often, but I know he has. He told me he could never replace you. That made me feel better. Do you know the very first thought I had when I saw Chris for the very first time? She looks like you. Petite with dark hair. Carried herself in the same way you did. She reminds me of you. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard. Maybe that’s why this time it hurts more, and it’s not just awkward, but it’s pain, and maybe a little fear.
I miss you Mom and I don’t know how to move on. It’s been in my gut for a long time now – needing to let go. But I can’t. The acceptance. I can’t do it yet. I know you’re not coming back. You’re never coming back. I’m not ready to delete your numbers. Do I have to? Please tell me I don’t have to. I won’t be calling, but it’s something I can hold onto.
Uncle Michael died a couple weeks ago. I’m sure you know. I hope you are with him. It was a weird reality. He’s the last of your family. There’s no more. Maybe that’s why I’m so emotional right now. Well, and maybe hormones too.
I went through a lot with Zack and Brayden. I wish you were there for me. I’m angry about that. But I don’t want to be angry at you. How could I be? You fought, I know you did. I watched you fight. You were strong. I get that from you. I’m strong too, so that’s why it’s so hard for me to be sad and hurting right now. I really, really miss you. I really, really hate that my boys will never really know you. I know that I can tell them all about you, and show them pictures. Zack already knows your face, and he knows you’re up in Heaven. He asked me the other day, “Mommy, where’s Heaven?” I told him it was way up in the sky, far, far away. He asked if you have to take an airplane straight up into the sky, really fast. That made me smile, and I answered “Yes.”
I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know if this is helping me or not. I assume it is, and I assume I probably need to keep doing it.
I love you Mom more than you know. I miss you more than I know.
Yes, I am a perfectionist. I know, you can’t believe it, right? It’s probably why I seem to get “stuck” a lot. In fact, I’ve been sort of “stuck” lately. It will pass, I know. I’ve had a lot going on lately too – this I also know, and I’m giving myself a break about it. So what, I’ve been “stuck” and soon I’ll get un-stuck. The perfectionist in me finds this hard to cope with, because that part of me wants to be getting things done (like unpacking the stacks of boxes we still have all over the house, or finishing my book or even writing the perfect blog post – um, yeah right!). So, I say to my perfectionist little voice: take a day off, relax, I’ll be back soon.
Okay, have to admit. This post really has absolutely NOTHING to do with cockroaches or caterpillars. So why that title? For some reason it popped into my head and I can’t get rid of it. Hmmm….? Maybe it’s referring to exterminators. Maybe I need to exterminate my mind (really?) to clear space for other things. You know, get rid of the cobwebs (okay, I’m not really that old, but I’ve been “stuck” the last week with my writing). Maybe I need to spray that nasty, hazardous, bad-for-the-environment (and everyone within a 50 foot radius) aerosol stuff to kill all the bugs and creepy crawlies. Hmmm… Yes, exterminate the mind.
Okay, now I’m just rambling. Which isn’t always bad. Sometimes I need to just ramble, to just get something down on paper – or in this case onto the white screen in front of me.
Just. Need. To. Write.
Writing, yes, doing that now. Feels good. What the hell have I been so afraid of these past 2 weeks??? Whatever it is or was. Consider it exterminated. BOOM! Bye bye bugs, pests, annoyances, little voices (yes, that would be MY little voices – of which I sometimes find are numerous).
So, quick post today. With not much meaning. But, at least it’s writing, right?
See y’all later!
Oh, by the way… my boys (all 3 of them – hubby included) are all fabulous!!! xoxo
So, today is Sunday (at least it still is here. Somewhere, it’s probably Monday already). I’m partaking in Stream of Consciousness Sunday again, and the prompt couldn’t be more perfect. I actually read the prompt hours ago, but didn’t have the (whole) 5 minutes to write it. I went swimming at the neighbors with Zack, then my best friend from next door joined us with her son and husband, then my husband came over with Brayden, and well, it turned into a great party evening (yes, even on a “school” night). So, here I am, hours later – and I confess I was thinking about what I would write about, but the writing is still limited to five minutes, and here goes (oh, p.s. the promt is:
Tell me about a keepsake that you treasure and will hold on to until death do you part.
I have a keepsake, it’s from my Mother. I keep it in my pillowcase and sleep with it every night. It’s a retro, soft turquoise beaded sunglass case that she used to carry her glasses in. When she passed away 5 years ago, I was helping my Dad sort through the house and I came across that item. I packed it, and within a split second took it back out of the box and decided I needed to have it. It is something simple, but it was SO Mom. The beads are faded yellow and beige, in a sort of almost paisley shape, but really made no pattern at all.
Inside the sunglass case, I have a letter that I wrote to my Mom the night she died. I wrote it on white, lined paper with blue ink, but I have never read it since. It got washed in the washing machine once, as it accidently did not get taken out of my pillow case on laundry day, so the paper is eternally stuck together with the creases of how I folded it 5 years ago. And I will never read it – it’s too hard. I don’t want to go back to that night.
So I sleep with it, in my pillowcase, along with the collar – a blue collar with a tiny little silver bell – from my cat who passed away just a month before Zackery was born. I sleep with my keepsakes every night that I am home. I sleep with my Mother and my cat, Raja. And till death will we part.
This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…
- Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
- Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw. (Disclaimer: I usually take a minute to add a picture, because I try to have one with all my posts)
- Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
- Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
- Link up your post below.
- Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love
I hate to be negative, so I’ll try not to be, but sometimes a girl’s just gotta vent! And I’m not really sure where I’m going with this post, but the words “when expectations fail” have been haunting my mind the past week, so I thought I would oblige them by unlocking the control of knowing everything (because I do, just ask my boys – ha ha!), and just… well… write.
I have a lot of expectations in my life. Those I put upon myself, those I put upon other people or situations, and those put upon me by others. Those last kind are the kind I don’t like. They are the ones that make me want to (more often than not) scream at people and say “don’t you get it?!” Don’t they see what they’re asking of me? Do they not see I am doing my best and then I am expected to do better, and more, and be happy and energetic and excited about it? Don’t they see things through my eyes?
Well, probably not. I can say with much certainty (see, told you I know everything) that I am the only one that sees things through my eyes. Otherwise we would probably be living in some kind of crazy Twilight Zone – and oh how freaky that would be! I can’t imagine being in my body but seeing things from someone else’s perspective, literally. Hmm… might make a good horror story (if I were the type of person who would want to write that – given that probably the scariest movie I’ve ever seen is Chucky – or something like that – I can’t remember and I’m more of a romantic comedy kind of girl anyway). Ok, so I digress. No horror for me, just love – awww.
And, as I was saying above, I am the only one who sees things from my perspective. No one else can “walk in my shoes.” No one else sees life through my “rose colored glasses” (which sometimes turn a rancid shade of ungodly gray). No one knows the thoughts in my head (except my little voice – shhh – quiet… not now!). No one knows… unless I tell them.
I don’t like expectations put upon me, but I also (gulp) can’t expect people to know what I’m thinking, seeing, feeling… unless I tell them.
As a Mother, I wear many hats. I know a lot of Mothers who wear many hats, and some have more hats than me – so hats off to them (no pun intended). I work all day without pay (other than the love of my children – which should be enough, but honestly sometimes isn’t), and then most nights I jump on my computer until the wee hours of the night/morning, and work some more. It’s not fair. Do I have a choice? Probably, but I wouldn’t like the outcome of the other decision. I am tired of “having” to work after I just worked all day. It’s not that I don’t enjoy what I’m doing – because for the most part it’s okay. It’s not my lifelong dream or passion (I have that figured out, but can’t – don’t want to – find more time without sleep or family time to get that going). It’s easy work, which I’m grateful for. But it’s work – after I already put in a 12 hour day. Add on top of that cooking dinners, doing dishes, laundry & cleaning, bath time & bed – most nights all on my own… I’m feeling a little resentment towards these expectations upon me. Here’s where I’m feeling the failure.
It’s not anybody’s fault – it’s situational, and it just sucks right now. My husband works his butt off to provide for our family – and he does a great job at what he does, but he just is rarely home. I chose this path for myself. I chose to stay home with the boys. I chose to work nights so my husband wouldn’t need to get another job. I chose. I have to deal.
Sometimes I think my husband forgets, or I forget that I haven’t shared my thoughts and feelings with him (trying not to play victim here). There is a lot put upon me, but there is also a lot put upon him. Fair is fair. So where am I trying to go with this? I still don’t really know, other than realizing (outloud) that I need to stop bottling things up and let my husband know how I’m feeling. Maybe it’s just the word “expectation” that’s got me all flustered. It seems pretty close to “assume,” and I have learned my lesson about not assuming anything. We have to have some expectations (or assumptions) in life, but when they get completely unrealistic or out of control, we need to re-evaluate. I think that’s where I’m at right now. Re-evaluate. No one likes to fail. I don’t like to fail. So maybe, just maybe, if I can adjust those expectations a little bit – maybe a little shift here and a little shove there – then maybe the suckiness will start to dissipate.