A new hat to wear?

So, not really sure how I feel about this... but someone very important to me has assigned me a new mission in life. She said she found my passion...and she knows how I should channel it. Apparently I was born to write a book. A book on motherhood and finding a path of goodness within it, having grown up in a world that was somewhat lacking of real mothers and real family situations. It is something I truly struggle with, maybe struggle isn't the appropriate word, but something I stress about. Its hard to know how to be the kind of mother I truly want to be, when I didn't grow up with a mother anything like that. Instead of a laundry list of things I should do and should be, it's the opposite. My life as a mother is based purely on what NOT to do to my kids. It's hard. I think my best motherly influences came from television and everyone knows how healthy that is for the psyche. I strive for June Cleaver-ism and thats very unachievable. I don't know how I feel about the entire book idea, but I shall bounce it around in my head from now either until forever, or until the day I decide she's right and actually do it. We'll see what happens. It is kind of a compliment to know someone thinks I'm successful enough at what I do to write an entire book on it though. Very flattering actually, considering I'm rather hard on myself and would usually consider myself far from having achieved what I set out to be. Thanks for the ego boost lady! lol

Moving makes me sleepy!

so we are in the middle of packing for our big move. Its only a big move in my mind actually, since we'll only be about 2 miles from where we live now. But nonetheless, it is exhausting to go through all the clutter, try to de-clutter, and put the survivors in a box securely wrapped and accurately labelled. All the while two little boys walking around my house think "ooh a new box, lets climb in it and explore whats inside, perhaps we can somehow use everything in it to build today's fort!". Exhaustign I tell you! I am too worn out to even estimate how many times I've repacked the same boxes after finding their reminants strewn about the house. It makes me think I'm losing it, I sit there confused for a minute scannning my mind for some memory of whether or not I thought this particular item was already taken care of. The decluttering is a whole 'nother nervous breakdown waiting to happen for me. I don't know where I got so much stuff, or why I can't seem to part with it. I'm not a hoarder or anything by any means. I don't keep trash, just things that mean something to me....but you'd be suprised by what I can seem to attach meaning to. I cant make myself get rid of anything that had belonged to my grandpa when he was alive. Now that he's gone there is such a limited amount of things that he actually touched, things that he had loved, things I can pass on to the boys some day. But to anyone else, they would look like completely useless objects. I also have a irrational inability to part with anything from when the boys were babies. Who knows if we'll ever have more, and the two we do have grow like weeds, so I think I kind of cling to these tiny little blankets and booties and what nots... they smell like sweet little babys. God, it just occured to me that if I ever get alzheimers or anything I'll drive myself even more crazy losing memories. I hold all this stuff, so that I don't forget the memory attached to it, if I couldnt remember the memory anymore.. what would I have? Interesting. Anyways, to make me even more crazy the exact day (or week) of the move isnt even known yet. I think we get keys today, but first we'll be bug bombing, then hiring a cleaning service to make sure any reminants from the bug bombs are gone and don't poison my little angels. Then finally the new carpet and wood floors will go in and a few repairs and touch up paint.. yay! I cant wait till we're all moved in and I can begin the dreaded task of unpacking all this stuff! If I have any energy left at all that is!

Don't deny it..own it

So.......(extra drawn out), my next assignment is to rid myself of my childhood experiences and get them all out on paper (virtual reality paper works for me) and relieve a little of the pressure. This is FAR easier said than done. I acknowledge everything in my life, and I don't feel all that traumatized by anything I have been through, but I have come to realize this is part of my coping method. (Long pause to cook dinner and further procrastinate)...For years I have said that I never wanted to be one of those people that blames my parents for the flaws I have... one of those that thinks I get a free pass to be faulty in this department or that because my foundation wasn't perfect. I have always been aware that many other people in the world have had it far far worse than I. Nonetheless, that doesn't mean I haven't been affected by my experiences..they are a part of me and have shaped who I am today. I will preface this whole thing by saying that I have struggled with my self image. The way I see myself, I wouldn't necessarily describe as weak, but certainly not as strong as those around me seem to be.

I grew up being raised by my grandparents. My father, I never knew until about a month ago =) and my mother was in my life but only at her own convenience. It was pretty clear from a very early point in my life that I was low on her totem pole of priorities. I've always said my Grandmother tried the best she could, I think now I would say she tried the best she knew how. She was from the school of "divorce is not an option". I never in a million years would have wanted her to leave my grandpa, but being the woman I am today, I can honestly say that if I had been in her shoes nothing in the world would have made me stay.

My grandfather was for many reasons my hero, which will sound unimaginable by the end of his blog I'm sure. For other reasons he was hell in cowboy boots. He drank like a fish, by the end of his life he'd had so many D.U.I.'s that his license had been permanently revoked. I can clearly remember the sound of his cowboy boots clomping down the driveway at 3am...and then the sound of him falling. It killed me to hear him fall. He was a very tall man, and very round..he was larger than life in many ways. I was so afraid of him or anyone else I loved getting hurt in any way, be it emotional or physical. I have always been very protective of my family. He would finally make it into the house and then either yell for us to get up, or hit the walls as he walked though the house with his fists until my grandma and I awoke. My 3am purpose was making him drinks, scotch on the rocks...and putting on an old 45 so we could dance in the living room. I was probably five years old at this time. In my mind those memories aren't bad, they're actually slightly warm and fuzzy for a lack of any better regular memories to take their place. The smell of scotch is something that will always remind me of him, and the old music from the 50's and 60's will always be something that we shared a love for that many people my age don't understand. Usually my grandma would make some wise remark to him about not coming home or being too drunk, which led to much yelling and screaming and more times than I can count it ended with her face bleeding and buried in her palms as she cried. There were many times that I dialed 911 and hung up before there was an answer because I was afraid of any part of my little family being taken away and torn apart. I clung very tightly to what I did have. I don't know if he was trying to make up for hitting her or what the deal was, but the night (early morning) usually ended with him driving us in a drunken stupor to his favorite all night restaurant..which I always loved. Other nights, their fights ended with him forcing her into bed while she cried. The next morning everyone would go on with business like nothing had ever happened. None of that ever seemed significant to me, but I knew it wasn't a normal thing other families did. The thought of five year old me sitting on the stairs like a fly on the wall kills me. I would scoop me up and run if I could. It sounds insane, but the pain I feel now, I feel for five year old me..I have a complete disconnect from that little girl then and the woman I am now..like as if it happened to someone else and I just knew the story, smells, sounds, and feelings. I feel cruel saying all of this because while he was awful to many others, he was wonderful to me..he treated me like a little princess and loved me unconditionally, like no one else ever did.

The other half of who I was at that time, was a little girl that longed desperately for a normal family...a father (or grandfather) that could pull himself together in a sober fashion long enough to go places and do things with us. Long enough to be an actual part of my life anytime other than the one week out of the year where he was normal...fair week. I longed for my real father to want me. I, for years, could not wrap my mind around how he could walk away and never wonder what happened to me. I longed for a mother figure who wanted to be in my life, wanted me in hers. Someone that did mother things with me and influenced me in positive ways so I would later in life know what path to follow. My mother never tried. I love her to death, but we have never had a mother/daughter connection in any way shape or form. My Grandma tried, but she didn't have the tools and knowledge to do it in a positive way. She bought me things I wanted and took me wonderful places but I honestly don't think I have hugged or been hugged by her since I was maybe 4 or 5. I don't think I've heard her say she loves me since I was probably 10. My mother says it to me every time we talk on the phone but its the absolute most empty words my ears have ever heard...as if she is required by law to say it to me or something. I am jealous now of the girls I see with moms that call everyday, moms they can tell anything to and get support from. My grandmother did a wonderful job the best she could, but in many senses I had no parents...I mothered myself.

Now, like I said, I don't feel sorry for me, and I don't want anyone to. It sounds bad on paper ;) but in real life it could have been far worse...but that doesn't make it alright. It doesn't mean those adults who made those decisions. I was the kid in the situation..I didn't make any of those choices, I just lived with them. I am working on uncorking the emotion behind it all.. over many years I have completely numbed myself to it and it doesn't hurt the way it should in order for me to heal. My views are skewed and I try to see straight through them so I don't pass this vicious cycle on to my own children. It is my theory that if each generation messes their kids up a little less than their parents messed them up, evolution is inevitable. Right? .... this is not the end of my story but I have had enough spilling of the beans for tonight. Its very cathartic to put it all out there, because it makes me see I'm not weak at all...quite a strong mother in fact all things considered.

Out of Darkness Comes Light

A few days ago I was going on my merry way, a routine day, nothing out of the ordinary... then I was stopped dead in my tracks, when, by what could be explained by nothing less than divine intervention I was made to cross paths with the story (blog) of an amazing little spitfire girl and her family. Her name is Aviana and she was with her grandma and grandpa in Roseville and as he held her crossing the street a driver ran a red light and hit them. Aviana barely survived and her chances looked grim. I read her moms almost daily blog with tears soaking my cheeks. There were times I had to put the laptop down and just cry for this poor mother and father and the pain and helplessness they must have been feeling..and for their beautiful little angel girl that fought a fight no one should ever have to at the brave but tender age of not even 3 years old. It was both heartbreaking and heartwarming to me...and I wish Aviana and her incredibly strong parents all the best in the world. I wish I could express to them that they truly are my heroes for all they have survived, because I dont think I could have, and certainly not nearly as eloquently as they have done. Anyways, as I read on and on it made me think about how I scold my boys for climbing the furniture, pass out time outs for talking back, and revoke special treats for not doing what they've been told and instead emptying out their dresser drawers. It made me feel so unappreciative when faced with what this other mother was witnessing. It made me realize that the things that seem like such big deals right at this moment, could become meaningless things in the face of bigger obstacles a moment later. It made me think of how selfish and silly I must be to sit here and cry with frustration on days when it seems like they just wont listen to a word I say and will do nothing but wrestle and fight at naptime. It made me realize that that mother would have given anything she could to have those moments back with her daughter. To be able to see her climb the furniture, make mischief, even talk back would have been music to her ears after all she'd experienced. My point is, I hope I never take my kids for granted and never fail to not realize the magic and blessing in every single second I get to have them in my life...healthy, happy, and true to themselves. I know we all forget, and I know its so easy to do...but because of sweet little Aviana and her story I will never again think of the ways I wish my kids could be and act...the places I wish we could go if they would just cooperate.. I will be thankful for the lack of stress and strife we've had in our wonderful lives. I will play one more game even when I'm tired, read one more bedtime story everynight, and request and deliver more hugs and kisses every chance I get. Thank you Aviana and Family for making me realize just how very very blessed I am and how quickly your blessings could be taken away and turned into other things you never in a million years thought you would live through. Like I said.. I wish her all the strength, happiness, health, and love in the world...because were it not for her I might have thought today was just another day and not my own little world of miracles because of the amazing people I have in my life and the angels we have watching over us.

I love you boys! And I will love you more than anyone has ever loved you...till the end of the world!

so I'm a blogger...

I can do this.. it will be good for me, a new hobby *wink wink* But how do you start these? I have said it before...and I will say it again, I am not good at beginnings or endings, just middles, so all you will get from me is ther cream filling of my life. Get used to it.. some days the cream filling may be sweet, some dyas it may be bitter... but it is what it is (most overused phrase in the world by the way)... so for lack of a deep philosophical thought, heres where what consumes my mind at this minute.
My house and my wild boys and I were without air conditioning for the past three days, today we are vacationing in our own house..in wonderful blessed 70 degree air..ahhh..."this is the good life" in the words of Dylan. Yes son, it is. We are packing for our big move to our new home. Its not new, but new to us and we couldnt be more excited to begin this new chapter in our lives. Finally our money will be going into something we can call our own instead of some faceless landlord somewhere. I dont want to jinx myself, but things just keep getting better. First I find my Father, my two twin sisters, a new house, less bills and debt, abeach camping trip followed by a trip to the beach house, and a baby boy thats doing great at pottytraining. What more could a girl want? Ahh.. Dylan is so wise..lol..life IS good! I am so thankful for the countless ways my life has been sprinkled with beautiful blessings. Thank You Great Spirit ;)