Getting Through to the Big Waves and Clear Waters

In recent days, I have been sick, I have been stressed and I have been hand feeding a very ill dog.  My energy is zapped, my body craves relief and most of all my heart is breaking at the thought that we might lose our 2nd and final dog in a 3 month span of losing Gemini.

Upon walking out of the vet’s office, leaving my dog behind for more tests, I was overcome with emotion.  I got in my car and cried.  I drove and I cried.  I just cried.  I can’t lose Bentley too, not so soon after his mom and not at 7 years old when a dog is supposed to still be healthy.  Ironically, he probably has more attention and care taking then ever before because it’s just him now… yet he is sick, skinny and we can’t figure out why.  Maybe his heart is breaking too.

I drove to the beach because I didn’t know where else to go.  I felt drawn to the waves, into the ocean for relief.  Like a robot I stripped to my bathing suit, tossed my clothes aside and walked into the water.  I stood for a moment just looking out, taking in the beauty and majesty of the coast.

For anyone who knows me well, I have a sexy game of love/ hate with the water.  I both fear it’s vastness and beg to be in it.  But going out too far, by myself, has always been a fear, yet today I was compelled.  I walked farther and farther until I surrendered, crashing down under the water, taking in all of the cold and exhilarating feelings that come with the first dip.

Bursting back through the water and into the warm, sun-filled air, I continued swimming further out.  Ironically the deeper I went into the water, the higher I got, now standing on a sand bar quite far from main land.  I stood up on it, looked around and felt the opposite of what I had expected.  I thought that standing so far out and away would make me feel alone, but instead I felt surrounded.  I felt surrounded with beauty and awe and love.  In front of me was a vast ocean, to my left high mountains, to the right my town I have come to know and love, behind me, my refuge, the land, below me clear waters and above me the heavens.  I felt safe.  I kept going.

I walked past the sand bar, into deeper water and began swimming through all of the crashing white water produced from the waves.  I dove through every one, allowing them to crash angrily over top of me and kept going.  When I got through the sets, now deeper than normally comfortable, I was in calm waters.  The ocean was flat, save for the occasional, yet large wave, but with the new perspective I was able to simply swim under the waves before they crashed, coming back up again to calm seas.

I don’t know what pulled me into the water this morning.  Quite honestly, I almost decided not to go because I didn’t want to wash my hair later, if you can believe it.  But I was summoned.  I was told to go.  To go deep into the water, feel surrounded by the universe and to be renewed.  I NEEDED TO GO.

I started to have all of these crazy thoughts rushing into my head, little whispers of strength and acceptance.  Something was telling me that life was just like this experience.  I had to go farther than I was comfortable to be literally lifted up and surrounded in clear waters.  I had to crash through the rough waves to get to a point where I could maneuver with ease around the big waves or life’s obstacles to calmer times.  I felt saved in that very moment, bobbing with the water, soaking in everything around me and everything so far from me.

Walking out of the water doesn’t mean that my stresses go away or that magically my dog isn’t sick anymore.  But walking out of that water I felt renewed, refreshed, strengthened and ready to take on another day.  Another day of whatever comes crashing towards me.  I am putting myself out there to trust the universe and God and whatever else I have watching over me, that if I swim far enough, I will be able to handle the big waves with ease, stand in clearer waters and never feel alone even when I’m standing so far out.

 

 

4 Dates as a Mama That Are Better Than Any First Date in the World

When you’re young and looking to fall in love, or maybe just looking to have some fun, dating seems like the biggest highlight of your fledging social life.  First dates, with all the butterflies, awkward moments and possible first kisses are magical in their own right, but what would you say if I told you it gets even better?  What if I told you I’ve discovered 4 dates in my adulthood… and specifically as a mom… that blow the best first date I’ve ever had out of the water?

The “Let’s Escape and Remember We’re Humans That Love Each Other Date”

To be fair, I have actually had a first date with this person- and it was pretty amazing.  BUT as exceptional as that date was, over sushi and loads of sake, I’m talking about a rendezvous even more special, more intimate… and one that rarely ever happens.  I’m talking about the elusive date with my fiancé.  That magical moment when we actually have a babysitter and can sneak away for a few hours to simply enjoy being adults together.  Yes, we love our daughter, but we also love one another and certainly do not get enough time to just let loose and share a few laughs, catch a movie or a plate of really delicious, salty parmesan and prosciutto.  When we enjoy each other more, we not only enjoy our family more, but we handle the bumps and bruises of parenting better together too.

The “You Save My Soul and Keep Me Sane Date”

Coffee? Check. Laughing? Check. Girlfriends? Check Check.  Mastering the art of the girlfriend date has been by far one of my biggest accomplishments and sanity savers.  Never in my life did I expect to find such raw happiness in laughing and talking… mixed with a bit of bitching… with my girlfriends over a good cup of hot coffee!  Nothing is off limits, from toddler tantrums to awkward gynecologist visits to the latest dumb fight with our spouses.  Girlfriends are the soul sisters sent to us to let us know we’re NOT ALONE (or crazy!)  No matter if it’s a quick cup of Joe, a long night with an endless supply of wine or anything in between, I relish the time to soak up all the support and love with my BFFs.

The “Embracing Every Moment of Our Legacy Date”

If you’re blessed enough to still have the opportunity for date #3, I suggest you get on it and savor every moment you can.  Opportunities to share time with my adult parents is by far one of the most treasured experiences in life.  Everything from learning little secrets I didn’t realize as a child to discovering more of who I am through the tales of my parents to their NOW WISE advice is something to behold.  Simply shopping (power walking and bargain buying) with my Mom or sitting on the back deck, sipping a martini with my Dad, time always seems to simultaneously stop and pass in the blink of an eye.  For a moment, I am transfixed- embracing this person whom I know will not always be around- trying my best to soak up every memory, piece of invaluable knowledge or family secret before the hustle and bustle of life starts again.  Though I vividly remember with joy my “Daddy Daughter Dates” as a child, watching vampire movies and eating large bowls of pasta, I still wouldn’t trade any of my adult conversations with my parents for the world.  I hold every nanosecond deep inside my heart to pull from, when inevitably one day, they are no longer around to guide me.

The “Little Toes, Big Smiles, Perfect Moments and Endless Love Date”

Finally, this brings us to the date of all dates.  The very MOMENT I realized I wanted life to literally stand still.  The moment I thought to myself “this is exactly how every true love should feel.”  That exact moment I looked at my daughter, lying in our bed with a big bowl of popcorn practically hiding her face, watching a movie and laughing.  Just the two of us in our pajamas, our hair messy from a day of play- date night with my daughter has turned out to be the most rewarding event of my life.  No wining and dining, flowers, first date sparks or butterflies can compare to the simplicity of true love between us.  It is in the very moment that we start singing or dancing to any number of Disney movies, that I know this… this moment right here… is my favorite date of all.  On any given day, my hundredth kiss from my daughter is still more special and cherished than any first kiss on any first date in the world.

Kindness of a Stranger, Strength of Yourself

Yesterday got off to a swinging start.  Running late at 8am to meet an installation technician at Lazy Mon, I knew I had to get gas or I would never make it to the bar at all.  Hoping on all hopes that I wouldn’t run out of gas before getting to the station, I headed out of town to spend over $5 a gallon… yea, that’s right.  Keep all of the posts on Facebook coming about how cheap gas is in the States right now, I REALLY LOVE seeing them.  Not.

Where was I?  Oh, right.

So, there I was, almost at the gas station and sure enough I ran out of gas.  Taking it for what it was and not freaking out, I grab the empty gallon container out of the trunk and walk the half mile to grab some “get there gas.”

Sure enough, upon arriving at the gas station on foot, one of my not-so-favorite local “pharmacists” is pulling up on his moped and laughingly asks if I want a ride.  Of course he already knew the answer, but I politely declined.  He laughs and rides off.  I curse him in my head and smile.

Moving on.

I grab my $5 gallon of gas and head back to my truck.  It’s not a far walk and I actually don’t mind it with the clouds clearing and sun shining over head.  Walking along the road, I mentally check my list of what I need to fill my tank.

Empty water bottle. Check.

Stick. Check.

Gallon of gas. Check.

Knife to cut open bottle.  GOOSE EGG.

Being resourceful, I figure I can make a hole with my keys and then rip it open.  Clearly, this is not my first rodeo running out of gas.

I get back to my car and start to assemble my goods while not being side swept, when a random older man zooms past on his motorcycle.  I notice that he sees me, passes me and then turns around.  When he comes back he asks if I need help and I ask “tienes un cuchillo?” Do you have a knife?

The man sees the bottle in my hand, says something incomprehensible and zooms past me in the direction he originally came.  Figuring he was trying to help, I wait a beat for his return.  A minute later he comes back with a cut 2 liter bottle, grabs a stick and like a well-oiled machine we work together to pour the gas into the car.  Mission accomplished, I close the tank, thank him and without another word save for “con gusto” he jumps on his bike and leaves.  No strings.  No expectations.  No lingering.  Just good old fashioned help.

And to be honest… I didn’t need his help.  I had already done the “hard” part of walking a mile or so to and from the gas station with the gas.  I essentially had the tools I needed or at least the creativity to make it happen.  But there is an adrenaline rush that comes with both receiving and giving help to a stranger for the sole purpose of doing good.  The rush that comes with truly selfless acts and glimpses of a positive society.  Who was I to deny either one of us of that rare luxury?

The point of my story is two fold.  For one, we are embarking on a new year in less than 10 hours and resolutions aside, let’s just do selfless acts.  Let’s help people for no other reason than to help people.  You don’t have to help someone every single day, but most days or even some days can change a lot of people’s lives… even if it is just BRIGHTENING someone’s day after they ran out of gas on the side of the road.

And the other point of my story is to the ladies.  Often we are stuck in a world between trying to show how strong and independent we are while being beautiful and soft.  I once had a wise woman tell me that I didn’t have to be so scared to let other people help me- that it didn’t make me weak.  I think she was right.  I can be strong and beautiful, independent and ladylike.  I didn’t need that man’s help, but I took it.  Allow yourself to be treated like a lady, but be prepared like a warrior.  Either way, you’re good to go.

Happy New Year to everyone.  Love your family, enjoy your friends, laugh a lot, love often, show kindness, show gratitude, be strong, be soft, be accepting of help and offer it whenever possible.  The simplest of gestures can turn out to be grander than you think.

 

Resolutions Don’t Have To Be Cliche: Improvements in 2015

So we’ve all heard it year after year, “New Year, New Me!”  While there always seems to be people who snicker at the concept of resolutions, I personally don’t see a problem with it.  In my opinion, a bold starting date, such as the 1st of the year, seems like a great jump off point to get your goals and butt in gear.

I think the problem comes when people try for something either unrealistic or something they probably already know they won’t follow through with.  Why start something you can’t finish?  Of course, resolutions are meant to be challenging, but keep it within the realm of reality and your sanity people.

So for me this year I have 3 small New Year’s resolutions.  One is for me to feel better, one is to help Kennedy in the current (and get Abasi off my back : ) shhh) and the other is to help Kennedy in the future.

The first is pretty par for the course for me these days… I just need to really commit to it.  Ever since being pregnant I have developed an intolerance to beer, bread and pasta.  To take those 3 delicious staples from my diet, you would think Kennedy hated me even before she was born!  In fact, Abasi says he got suspicious that I might be pregnant when I told him I “wasn’t in the mood for pasta” right before we found out about Kennedy.  HELLO RED FLAGS!!! Well after the pregnancy it continued and me being stubborn it definitely took some time admitting to it.  I have done pretty well with getting the main culprit out, which is pasta, but I still dabble in beer and bread.  WHO WOULDN’T RIGHT??  Well for this upcoming year, I want to go from Jan 1st to my birthday, April 22nd, without any of it to truly see if it makes a difference in my health.  Pray for me friends, this will be TOUGH!

Secondly, I want to work on something SUPER EASY!  I am the first to admit my downfalls and as a parent I am certainly not perfect.  But this one is so easy, I know I can fix it if I am just MINDFUL about it.  So here it is…. I’M BAD AT WASHING KENNEDY’S HANDS BEFORE SHE EATS!  Whhheewww, weight off my shoulder, save the ‘Mom of the Year’ award until next year, you now know my dirty (literally) little secret.  I am super good at getting home cooked meals ready in a snap, serving it up exactly how Kenny will eat it and setting up her little table.  I GET SO CLOSE… and then I just let her go to it.  Well, it is kinda gross, especially being a tiny little force of nature constantly doing things in every conceivable nook and cranny in the house.  AND this is one of Abasi’s BIG hangups… he is super good at remembering this.  So, as silly as it may seem, I am going to be VERY mindful about washing Kennedy’s hands before she eats.  Moving on.

Finally, this is something I have been very aware of for a while, but until Kennedy really started mocking every little thing I did, I didn’t think of the consequences of.  I think I do something that easily 75% of America does without thinking twice.  When I walk past a mirror, especially the more I work out, I stop and check myself out, flex or lift my shirt to see my tummy.  One day, I was walking by the mirror in my bathing suit and stopped and checked out my figure.  I saw Kennedy stop playing with her toys and notice what I was doing.  I decided then, that I wanted to make this change.  I am not going to completely stop “analyzing” my fitness results but I am going to stop fussing about myself in the mirror in front of Kennedy.  I want my daughter to know that she is strong and beautiful from the inside out, not the other way around. I am happy with the way I am physically coming along which is a great thing.  I am glad Kennedy sees Abasi and I working out, getting stronger physically and mentally, but I don’t ever want her to obsess about her looks.

One day, I was walking by the mirror in my bathing suit and stopped and checked out my figure.  I saw Kennedy playing with her toys beside me stop and notice what I was doing.  I decided then, that I wanted to make this change.  I am not going to completely stop “analyzing” my fitness results but I am going to stop fussing about myself in the mirror in front of Kennedy.  I want my daughter to know that she is strong and beautiful from the inside out, not the other way around.

So that’s it.  Nothing too crazy, nothing too unobtainable.  I will work hard at these (and I’m sure many other things that need constant fine tuning) but I will not punish myself if I slip.  I will acknowledge it and move on. Friends and family feel free to hold me accountable… slap that damn piece of bread from my hand!  And then run fast my friends, very fast ; )

I hope everyone had a fantastic Christmas and has a new year full of health, wealth and happiness. What are your goals for the New Year?  Share ’em with me and let’s work on ourselves together! Here’s to a fantastic 2015!!

The Hand of Ignorance Blinds Us All: Moving Past Hate and Racism

I feel like I’m suffocating.  Perhaps that is a poor choice of words in respect to recent events and it is meant to have zero comedic relief in it, but it is truly how I am feeling at the moment.  I feel so lost and confused, embarrassed and sad, ashamed and defeated.  How can this still be such a violent and ugly problem in almost 2015?  Normally, living in such a remote place, it is easy to cast the troubles and tensions of the U.S. into the “not my problem” box, but I feel like I can’t ignore it anymore.  My gut is wrenched and my heart is almost in pieces as people are dying daily because of… what?  Police brutality?  Black vs white? Thugs?  No, it’s more simple than that.  It’s because of hate.  All because of hate.

And quite frankly, I need you to explain it to me.

I hear things like “you people” and “those people” as if all people of one race, religion or occupation subscribe to the same deplorable behavior and actions that have been wreaking havoc on our nation.  I read such hate being spewed throughout my newsfeed about black people or police as a whole, choosing to forget that every person is an individual and responsible for their own actions, not those of their people.  Truly you cannot believe in your heart that all police officers are killers… if so, then please know you are talking about my cousins who risk their lives every day to serve and protect, all the while having 2 little boys to come home to.  And certainly you do not believe that all black people are ignorant thugs, as I have read too many times to count in various news feeds and comments.  If so, then you are speaking also of the father of my daughter, my best friend and one of the most honorable men I know, whom mind you served our country as well… but he’s a thug right?  It goes beyond just generalizations of white people, black people and cops.  Too often people of the Islamic religion are also generalized as part of a whole, attacked undeservedly and tagged terrorists just for being Muslim.  Who are we in this world of constant diversity to assume anyone is anyone other than themselves?  Being a part of or from something does not make you ALL of that something.

Please do explain it to me, because I just don’t get the generalized, automatic hate.  As a white mother to a beautifully mixed daughter, I can’t understand the fact that some people will hate her, just for being “half her.”  What do I say to her as her white mother, that there are some people from my race that will simply hate her father’s race for no good reason?  Can we not see, as a supposedly evolved people, that one person’s actions only depict their character, for better or for worse?  I can’t explain it because I never conducted my life by the color of the people I interacted with. Being in a biracial relationship doesn’t mean my world is “colorless” but to the contrary it is that much more colorful.  I neither fell in love with Abasi because he was black, nor would I ever NOT love him because he was black.

Recently, I  re-read the saying “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind” but I am beginning to think that possibly we already are.  Can we not see the small patches of beauty in this world enough to want to continue to move in that direction.  Towards a better future for our children, towards equality of all people: black, white, purple, gay, trans, Muslim, robot?  How can a country that has seen so much destruction and hate feel compelled to fester with that instead of rise against it and show that there is such a thing as being the better person?  Of moving forward.  Moments like Sergent Barnum and Devonte Hart putting aside their differences in Ferguson to embrace in the presence of pain.  Moments like Pakistani teenager Malala Yousafzai being the youngest recipient of the Noble Peace Prize after being injured by the Taliban and continuing to fight for human rights.  Or moments just in your own, simple life such as when my daughter grabs my face and says “I wuv you Mama.”  There is beauty to behold, but the blindness of hatred does not allow us all to always experience it, thus continuing to walk through a world, seemingly filled with pain and darkness.

The truth is, people are dying… on both “sides.”  This isn’t about who was right, who was wrong, was he justified, etc.  What I am talking about right here, right now is the bottom line hate that stirs the ignorance and fuels the fires.  No matter what “side” you are on, and it is nauseating to see the depths at which some of you will blindly defend your side, no one is winning.  There is no winner to be had here.  Children are still becoming fatherless and parents are still mourning their children.  Yes, it is true black lives matter.  So do white lives and cop lives.  So do gay lives and straight lives.  It’s really simple… ALL LIVES MATTER.

The only side we should be on, is a united front for humanity and equality.  When that day comes, then perhaps I will have the courage to look my daughter in the eye and explain that our pasts are all etched with dark times but we have risen above it and are a united, accepting people.  I truly do fear, as not only a woman who does not tolerate racism nor hate but especially as a mother, that not even my daughter will ever see that day.  But I can continue to pray for it.  And I can continue to teach my daughter that the beauty in this world starts inside of her.  That her actions to others not only have negative consequences but have the opportunities to enrich the lives of others as well.  I can continue to conduct myself and my actions with tolerance (which is different than patience Abasi, thank you very much… I am working on that as well) and to choose to love instead of hate. Please do not get me wrong… I am the last person in the world to say there are not people out there that I would love to put on an island just for them, but to hate someone really only defeats yourself and darkens your own soul.

So let’s do something.  Let’s start today, before the holidays, before the New Year.  Not as just a resolution to work on for one year, but forever for our futures.  TODAY.

Today, I vow to recommit myself to the achievement of peace.  Today, I vow to refocus my prayers to the people that cannot open their hearts to others.  Today, I vow to replenish my soul daily with love and acceptance instead of allowing myself to get wrapped up in petty problems or linger on negative actions.  If we all take a moment to look inside ourselves then maybe, just maybe, we can rid ourselves of the blinders and begin to see the wonder that this world truly holds.  Though we may feel foolish and cheated for ever living a day prior with a hand of ignorance held over our eyes, we can solidify and promise a beautiful and accepting future for our children… and what a day to look forward to that is.

Will you join me?

The epitome of love ❤

Everything in life should be as simple as this moment right here… ❤

A Question I Can’t Answer: Who Tells The Little Ones?

For those who know me personally, to say I am outspoken is sometimes an understatement.  Never at a loss for words, I tend to speak without thinking, blurting my opinions for anyone who cares to listen.  Today however, I am without words.  I sit here, for the 4th day in a row trying to figure out answers to mine and probably so many other’s questions.  For the 4th day in a row, I sit here, dazed, wondering how exactly you explain to two little girls that their mother is not coming back.

I am not foreign to death.  Though I have been blessed enough to still have my parents and my brother, I have experienced loss.  I have seen how death can rip lives apart, while simaltenously uniting others.  My own personal experiences of death stem from losing grandparents as a young child and a friend as a teen.

Though I barely grasped the concept of death at 7 years old, I have a very distinct memory of walking downstairs to see my mom crying one morning.  As I climbed into her lap, questioning her tears, she didn’t try to hide it, but simply said “I miss my mom,” “I just want my mom back.”  For me, that was a pivotal point in understanding the “forever gone” reality.  And so, I just sat with my mom, while she cried for her own mom.  It was the first real time I saw an adult grieve for their parent.

Later, in highschool, my close knit circle of friends experienced a loss that literally changed the dynamic of our high school experience.  Losing Bridget, was and is to date one of the hardest things I, and many others, have ever dealt with.  One Wednesday night she was making silly faces at me across the booth at Friendly’s and the next day she was gone forever.  By this point, I wasn’t a child, I understood what it meant to die, but I still didn’t understand why.  Why would God take someone so young?  What reason was there?  I watched her family mourn the loss of their youngest daughter, knowing nothing I or any of us did, could ever soothe their pain.  It was the first real time I saw parents grieve for their child.

I have had friends my age that have lost their parents… most younger than my own parents.  While mourning their loss and really not being able to understand their pain, I selfishly feared losing my own parents.  When that day comes, I don’t even know how I will pull myself out of bed.  Watching the growth, pain and evolution of my friends, I have now seen young adults grieve for their parents.

But all of this is to say, that today, I am without words.  Today I don’t get it.  My well worn mantra of “everything happens for a reason” makes no sense to me today.  Today, as I did yesterday, and the day before that and on Friday when I found out about Nancy in the middle of decorating our Christmas tree, I can’t understand what it is like for 2 little girls to grieve, let alone understand that their mom is gone forever.  For all of my other experiences with loss, the answers here elude me.  Maybe it’s because now I am a mother.  Perhaps, it is me being selfish again- thinking about myself and my daughter.  Who would tell Kennedy?  How would they tell Kennedy?  Would she ask about me every day until one day she just… didn’t?  I pray for Nancy’s whole family…she was a daughter, a sister and a friend.  But I ache for her daughters.  2 small, unknowing, innocent, little girls who will never see their mom again, or her amazing cakes she made them or the costumes she put together.  The mom, who without missing a step allowed her daughters to be fiercely independent and choose their own way even at such a young age.  Be who you want to be seemed to be Nancy’s mantra and she walked the talk every day.

And so again, here I am, wondering… how do you do it?  I’m sure there are books to help explain. But does a child really want to read a damn book when they have just lost their mother?  I DON’T KNOW!  I, at 27 years old, can’t seem to grasp any of these concepts, so how can a child?  It makes me feel like a teen again, angry, for what the reasoning could be.  WHAT COULD BE THE POINT OF TAKING A LOVING MOTHER FROM 2 LITTLE GIRLS!?  And then someone else is left to clean up the mess of explaining things out of their control or comprehension.  It just doesn’t make sense.

None of these things, I have an answer for.  What I do know is that it takes a village to raise a child.  On your very best day of parenting you still need “your people” to help make sense of this world.  And if anyone ever needed their village people, Nancy was the first in line, cake in hand (to either pie you in the face or dazzle you with her creativity), ready to help lead the good fight.  If Nancy can no longer be here, then we, her village, must step up and wrap those girls in love, support, memories and laughter.  No, it’s not our job to be the one to tell them, forever means forever, and God Bless the person who actually has to do that.  But we can be there to lend a softer landing.  We can be there to make sure Nancy’s laughter and smile never dim.

For anyone reading this that has lost a loved one, I pray for and with you.  We all know you never get over it.  Though you never move on, you learn to move forward.  I still to this day say “Goodnight Bridget” every night before I go to sleep.  Maybe it’s a habit at this point, but I’ll take any daily connection, habit or not, and it brings me comfort.  For anyone reading this that knows Nancy personally, I grieve with you.  Abasi and I are very saddened and shocked.  We are sad because we cannot be there with everyone to mourn her passing and celebrate her life that she lived so well.  We hope you feel our prayers and love wrapping around you today as you say goodbye and every day after, as we build a strong community around Audrey and Charlotte in any way we can.  For some of us, where distance mocks us, the positive thoughts and prayers must suffice for now.  For anyone that can donate monetarily, you can go to this site <3Nancy and help the family with costs.

Thank you for the memories you gave us Nancy.  The laughter, the friendships, the moments we all hold dear will not soon fade.  A life gone way to soon, but lived fully nonetheless.  I hope you rest peacefully, though watch out Heaven, because she is Hell on Wheels.  Finally, I know how fiercely you loved your girls.  The only positive out of this is that Audrey and Charlotte will have the biggest angel of all guiding and protecting them through every day life.  We will be your foot soldiers.  Though we probably cannot match your shine… we will carry on your smile, stories and shenanigans.  Rest peacefully Nancy, it is goodbye for now, but not forever.

Dear Kennedy, I Promise…

Dear Kennedy:

If on some days I seem impatient, I apologize for not taking the time to relax with you,
I probably spent the night up worrying about how to protect you forever.

If on some days I seem distant, I promise I am always by your side.
I have a thousand thoughts a day, but you are the center of them all.

If on some days you have more energy than I can muster, I promise to still get up and dance.
Even if for just a song or two, I will never say no to the chance to spin with you.

If on some days you seem hell-bent on doing something by yourself,
I promise to let you try, but always be within reach to catch you if you fall.

If on some days I seem to need a “time out” for myself, I promise to make it quick.
3 minutes by myself to breathe and refresh to continue trying to being the best mommy I can be.

If someday you fall and hurt yourself,
I promise to kiss your boo-boos and help you heal, even if only through my prayers.

If someday, no matter your age, you are sick,
I promise to give you homemade soup, endless cuddling and cookies of your choice.

If someday in the future, you feel bullied at school and your feelings are hurt,
I promise to hold you, to listen to you and to help you understand what is going on.

If someday in the future, I find out you are doing the bullying,
I promise still to hold you, to listen to you and to help you understand how you are hurting someone else.

If someday in the future you cannot solve a problem,
I promise not to solve it for you, but help you get to an answer.

If someday in the future, you feel like you cannot accomplish something,
I promise to show you your strength and how anything is possible if you work at it.

If someday in the future, I feel you are making poor decisions,
I promise to gently guide you without ever truly changing your direction, for that is for you to do.

If someday in the future you rebel and disobey,
I promise still to love you and trust you learn from your choices.

If someday in the future, you feel I simply don’t understand,
I promise I probably do not, but I will work to listen to the words you say instead of just hearing you.

If someday in the future a boy breaks your heart,
I promise to sit you down, wipe your tears and explain the difference between a boy and a man.

If someday in the future you are betrayed by a friend,
I promise to show you strong examples of friendship that I have created with the people who love you most, as my mother showed me in her bonds with the people that surrounded me.

If someday in the future you question yourself,
I promise to sit you down, as my father did with me, and explain exactly who you are, where you came from and how strong your roots are.

If someday in the future you feel scared,
I promise to protect you.

If someday in the future you feel the need to travel,
I promise to give you a journal and a map and send you on your way.

If someday in the future you feel lost,
I promise to pray for and with you.

If someday in the future you fall in love,
I will trust that this person respects you, makes you laugh, honors you and holds you in the highest regard.

If someday in the future you fall in love,
I will trust that you will return this respect, humor, honor and hold your partner in the highest regard.

If someday in the future you choose to marry the love of your life,
I will trust that you came to this decision together in love and with God for guidance.

If someday in the future you become a mother,
I will weep at the understanding that you will finally know the love I have for you.

If someday in the future I am able to watch you love and learn with your children,
I will listen to your concerns, soothe your fears, and thank God for letting me witness the strength of my daughter as a mother.

If someday in the future I am not around,
I promise you I am, even if not physically.

If someday in the future you find yourself missing me,
I promise you will feel me at your weakest moments and pray you find strength from our memories.

If someday in the future I am gone for good,
Know that it is because of you that I ever was the woman you remember, the woman I became and the woman I worked every day to be. Without you I was nothing, with you I realized I could be anything and because of you I had everything.

Love You to the Moon, Around the Sun, and MORE Than All of the Stars in the Universe,

Mama

 

Stop Drinking the Hate Juice: Learning to Celebrate Another Mother’s Efforts

WOW, can you hear that? No, you can’t because it’s called silence. The pounding and jackhammering in my head has finally subsided. And now that the mini construction demons are done sandblasting their way through my skull and my nose has returned to actually smelling things, I am happy to say I’m BACCKK!! But with me come my thoughts and opinions from the last couple of fog-brained and drugged days of consciousness. And like my main man Abasi loves to say, “opinions are like a&#holes… everyone’s got ‘em and they all stink!”

And trust me, my following thoughts might cause a stink…

2 days ago I read an article in the NY Post, by Karol Markowicz, that had been going around a few of my friends’ newsfeeds. It was titled “Modern Moms Looking for Perfection in All the Wrong Places” and even before I read it, I felt my cheeks beginning to tingle. Upon reading it, my initial response was indeed… DAMN! That stings!

I felt like I had been personally slapped in the face by the author. Why was I so directly offended by a person I didn’t even know? For starters, it could have been because as I sat there feeling snubbed and sorry for myself, I could literally see from the corner of my eye, the finger painted t-shirt Kennedy had just finished drying on the table. Gut punch delivered.

And then, clearly I had sat there frozen with frustration for too long, because as if to finish me off, my screen saver mockingly cascaded pictures of Kennedy’s 2^nd birthday party, Minnie Mouse themed all over my laptop… do-it-yourself Minnie ears and all. Upper cut… call the match.

At first I was annoyed because it felt like I was personally being told… “You try to hard.” “Stop faking perfection!” Trust me, ain’t no one faking perfection over here. Like you might have read in my first blog post, “The Perfect Moment to Share,” I believe everyone is entitled to beautiful moments and should show them off. They are your perfect moments, be proud of them. But I’ll be damned if I act like I have it all together.

I will be the first one to admit that Kennedy initially started going to “school” (daycare) at a year and half, BECAUSE I NEEDED TIME to get back to being me. To have time to work out or do yoga or go to the freaking beach without chasing a toddler. Or watch NCIS: Los Angeles uninterrupted. OR JUST TO BREATHE. I needed those 4 hours a day, 5 days a week to remember I was a human being. Doesn’t sound so perfect, does it? I could care less, I feel great, she has friends, learns things daily and we’re all better for it.

And that homemade t-shirt, finger painted to perfection… you bet your ass that’s going on Instgram, but wanna know the real reason behind it? You think I just want to expose my daughter to “the arts?”   Yea sure, that too. But what it really does is gives us something to do for 20 minutes a day in one spot. When we’re done, I can figure out what to do for the next 13 hours and 40 minutes of “awake time.” Cut me some slack if I’m proud enough of the finished product that came from my “toddler control/ mama sanity methods.” Ps: We painted a mug the next day, and I love that too…

And what the hell is this about the “old days?” Do we really want to go back to a time when we would just throw our kids in front of a TV dinner and walk away to shake up some martinis? Believe you me, I’m 27 years old and my mother had a home cooked meal on the table for us EVERY NIGHT of the week… and still had time for a cocktail. Because she’s awesome. And so awesome in fact, that this trend of “newly themed birthdays” must really be holding on something fierce because I had themed birthdays and homemade carousel birthday cakes in the 80’s and 90’s. That’s a hell of a “fad” if you ask me.

You know what we, as a society, did do 30 or more years ago? Smoke during pregnancies, drive without seat belts and use minimal to no sunscreen. If you ask me, thank God we’ve made some discoveries and adaptations to our parenting abilities.

But then I woke up, after 2 days of bed-ridden contemplation and as the last cloud drifted from my refreshed brain, I realized why I was truly pissed off at this article.  BECAUSE THERE ARE SO MANY OTHER THINGS TO WORRY ABOUT!

In a world where war, poverty, starving children and rapists run rampant, why in the world are we accusing from one mother to another of trying too hard or trying to live up to something we’re not. Is the fact that I made a Minnie Mouse shaped cake to match the plates and the balloons and the invitations really that big of a deal? Is the fact that I prefer home cooked meals IF possible over take out or processed, something that really just means I’m “over thinking parenting?” HELL NO!  It’s simply my choice.

There are women who beat their children, drop their children off in dumpsters and do things to them that as a woman and a mother, I am unprepared to type. You know these monsters. We all read about them in our every day news. Yet, instead of congratulating another mother on her job well done we simply scoff and assume she’s fakin’ it till she makes it.

Shame on us.

Shame on us for not lifting one another up. For not recognizing that every parent and specifically mother is on her own journey and experience and only doing AS GOOD AS SHE KNOWS HOW. Shame on us for not supporting and celebrating the accomplishments and victories other mothers have, as much as we punish and chastise the mothers that do evil. Shame on us for shaming other mothers.

To be fair, I do agree with Mrs. Markowicz when she says, “Make sure your child’s life is fun and meaningful, instead of pretty and picturesque.” Truer words have never been spoken.  I want nothing more in this entire world than for my daughter to be healthy, happy and full of love.  But instead of holding anything at all in contempt of another person, just celebrate what they do well and move on. And maybe at some point you remember that your friend Susie Homemaker is fantastic at making centerpieces, call on her for help and guidance. In return and gratitude, offer your services at something you excel at, whatever it may be. If we were a society more interested in supporting not ONLY the children of our future, but the people raising our futures, we may be pleasantly surprised at the examples we demonstrate and the outcomes from it.

Personally, I enjoy making Halloween costumes, painting and cooking. They are some of my super mama strengths. I lack in patience and the ability to listen to the same God-awful cartoons day in and day out. I don’t believe in giving my toddler a bath every single day. I am a vegetarian, but I let her eat meat if it means she will eat SOMETHING! I am not perfect, but I am trying. I am doing the very best that I can in the journey that I am on, with the tools that I have available to me. And the one universal tool happens to be love. We all have it, we all use it, some to open different doors than others, but we all have it. Recognize your path, respect that someone else’s journey is different and at all cost, just lift one another up towards the common goal of loving and protecting our children and you have succeeded.

Rant over.