Things undone

I hate having unanswered questions.  Hate it.  Especially when the one person who could answer them is never-to-be-seen-again.  It leaves something unfinished.  I need the closure of an answer.  I don't care if it hurts my feelings or makes me feel stupid - I just want a conclusion.

I don't start things I can't finish.  I don't get into anything with my eyes closed.  Once I'm buckled in, I don't care where the ride is going - I'm on it until the end.  This isn't always easy, actually it almost never is, but it's the only way to really see something through.  To look ahead at something from the beginning then look back at it from the end is the only way to see the road you chose.  So, I don't want to end up at a detour sign when I didn't know the road was closed. 

I recently had a bunch of questions left unanswered.  I haven't been able to sleep since.  My mind races with possible answers, but I don't know which is the right one.  And, I never will.  That doesn't sit well with me at all.  It has been left undone.  I want to file it away in a box marked "Mistake" or "Opportunity Lost" or "What were you thinking" or "Came thisclose" or "What a ride!".  I don't have a box for unanswered questions, because I can't put them away.  So it sits there, rolling around my mind 24/7.  I would like to have that space back for things that can be finished.  I would like to let it go.  I would rather have had the worst possible answer than no answer at all.  Because, with any answer, it would have been finished.  And, I wouldn't be undone.

1 1/2 hours

It took her exactly one and a half hours to declare (in the signature whiny voice) "I'm bored".  Seriously, 1:30 pm May 25, 2011.  It had been three minutes since she had finished playing a game with her sister.  Thirty minutes since she finished telling me all about her last day of elementary school.  Summer "vacation" is not going to be easy.

I have a list of things I plan on doing with them this summer.  Small and large ideas to make these next few weeks as fun as possible.  But, it won't be non-stop action.  I still have my own job to do.  Maya still needs a nap almost every day.  Our bank account doesn't allow for outings every day.  So, there will be lots of "in between" time.  Is she going to complain through it all?!

We will go to at least two zoos, and I'll have to remind myself not to leave one of them in the monkey exhibit.  We will (much to my flanks dread) head to the local pool a few times, and I'll have to take deep breaths as they whine that I'm not paying enough attention to whatever they're trying to show me for the hundredth time.  Because no one cares that the little one can't be left alone for a second.  We will go bowling and miniature golfing, and I'll have to deal with at least one of them pouting that they lost.  We will go to the park, and friends houses, and lunches, and anything else I can think of to occupy their time.  And, it can be assured, someone will be unhappy the whole time.  Finally, at the end of summer, we will spend two blessed weeks at the beach.  And, my fingers are blue from being crossed so hard that this summer will be as good as the last.  Please, oh please, let them love it as much this time.

It is very possible that this will be the last summer that the four of us spend together from beginning to end.  At any minute, Sofia will declare that I am not cool enough for her.  She'll decide that so-and-so's mom is much more appropriate, and she'll spend all her time there.  I anticipate many moments this summer when I'll think of packing her bags and dropping her off at so-and-so's house, just to get a break.  She's a pre-teen, and I have decided that's not fun.  But, mostly, I'll savor this summer with the girls.  There are some big changes heading our way, and I want to appreciate this time with them before our world is changed forever. 

So, I'll do everything I can to ignore the whining and pouting and sighing.  And, I'll press forward with my plans for an eventful summer "vacation". I'll work every day at getting them to smile and laugh.  I'll even try really hard to limit my own whining and pouting and sighing.  So that, hopefully, one and half hours into the school year, she'll be saying (in the signature whiny voice) "I wish I could be with my mama".

They'll look elsewhere

If you fill the heads of the ones closest to you with negativity, you don't have the right to be surprised at how it turns out.  One of two things will happen, and you may not like the road that is chosen.

If you are constantly pointing out everything that is wrong with a person, that person has a choice. 
They can seek out other people who agree with your assessment.  They'll live their whole lives believing the worst in themselves and not accept anything positive.  You'll watch them die a little bit inside every day until you get frustrated with their self-loathing.  Then you'll complain about that.  But you can't, really.  You did that to them.
or...
They will do everything they can to prove you wrong.  They'll throw themselves into every opportunity until they get back what you stole from them.  They'll stop at nothing until they find someone to tell them you were wrong.  And, you'll be able to do nothing but watch as they walk away.  You did that to yourself.

Relationships are fragile things - even the ones you think are cemented forever. 
Children grow up and away.  The further away they go, the better you'll know how you did as a parent.  If you want them to respect and love themselves, you have to show them that you respect and love them every day.  They're forming their view of themselves through your eyes.  But, there's always someone who will try to tell them about themselves.  Do you really want to put your child's self-worth in the hands of someone who has their own agenda?
Spouses who are used as doormats or punching bags will eventually make a choice too.  Stay in misery or step out into possibility.  Your actions make that decision easier for them.  If you don't want to wake up alone tomorrow - show them.  Otherwise, you don't get to be surprised when they find someone who gives them what you wouldn't.

The people closest to you will look to you first.  But, if they need to, they'll look elsewhere.

*Gasp*

I have a confession to make.  You may want to sit down for this.

I don't want to be just a mama.

There.  I said it.  Of course, now all I want to do is delete it and write another blog about how wonderful my kids are.  And, they are wonderful.  Sometimes, though, I'd like to be wonderful too.  As moms, we're expected to be centered around our children.  Unfortunately, for me, the past ten years have been only about my children.  I haven't done or had anything that was just my own.  whine, whine, whine.  Yes, I know, this is what you're supposed to do the day your babies are born - turn in your selfish card.  But, there must be some kind of loophole to this rule.  It certainly seems that the men have found it. 

I am not asking for someone else to come in and raise these kids for me.  I just want to be a little more than a napkin/maid/servant.  I don't want to have to wait until 9:00 at night (when I'm sure they're actually asleep) before I sit down to watch a movie that doesn't involve a princess or a wizard.  I want to get in the car and just drive without making sure to schedule potty breaks and pack a snack.  I want just one person to say "You look nice today."  Instead of "Not bad for having three kids."  I want to make a decision that's best for me without wondering what kind of lasting effect it will have on the girls.  I want to buy myself something frivolous without feeling like I should've gotten them new shoes instead. 

But, I can't.  I'm just a mama.  I admit, however, that I get really frustrated when they get up before I've finished my cappuccino.  And, I have said (on more than one occasion) that I wanted to run away.  I have hidden in the bathroom with the lights off to sneak just a moment of solitude.  I beg them to go outside so that I can turn on inappropriate music to cook by.  I enforce a quiet time every single day because, without it, I wouldn't make it to bath time.  Sometimes, I'm hanging on by a string to make it to bed time.  And, the moment the doors are closed, I have been known to go straight to the kitchen to make myself a drink.

I used to be a woman.  Nothing spectacular, but a woman nonetheless.  Now, I'm a mama.  Nothing spectacular, but a mama alltheless.  And, I don't love every moment of it.  It's my dirty little secret, and I'll be judged for it no doubt.  That vow of honesty is really starting to bite me in the butt.

Now, let me tell you how amazingly wonderful my kids are...

Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day, and you know what that means!!  Well, in my house, it means that they are legally obligated to say "Thank you" as I do all the things I do every other day of the year.  Really, I don't need a "Mother's" day as much as I need a little less "Papi's" day.  So, while I rushed around this morning making their breakfast, a few thoughts were running through my head.  As I can't say everything I was thinking, I'll edit the list for you.

1.  Thank you to all of the mothers who inspired me to not rip my hair out when Maya wandered into my room for the fifth time in the middle of the night.  She's begun a new tradition of night walking, and I confess I'm not enjoying it with the enthusiasm I embrace our afternoon walks.
2. I'm grateful for all of the police investigation shows I watch after the girls go to sleep.  Without them, I would believe that I could get away with smothering the husband with the pillow he's snoring atop while I scramble his eggs to order.  Or using the cast iron pan to tap him upside his head.  Or pour his coffee into his eyes instead of his mug.  Many thanks to Law & Order SVU.
3. I wonder if my body will ever allow me to sleep past 5 am?  I wishfully didn't even set the alarm last night, but I was wide awake long before the sun.  My poor girls will one day be able to sneak out at night, but GOOD LUCK GETTING BACK IN!

I never thought I would be a mother.  I didn't play "babies" as a kid & I never enjoyed babysitting.  I didn't grow up scribbling names of future kids in a notebook or imagining what they would look like.  Then I became a mother.  And, from the moment the lines appeared on the test, I was grateful.  My girls are the most amazing gift anyone was ever given.  I'm exhausted and frazzled and overwhelmed.  And, for the first time, I am loved.  Not in the flowers and candy way, but in the I-fell-down-and-only-mama-can-make-it-better way.  And, in the my-mama's-food-is-better way.  And, in the it's-the-middle-of-the-night-I-just-want-to-see-my-mama way.  So, I'll get up six times every night for the rest of my life.  And, I'll get the breakfast on the table before their dreams are done every morning.  Because, while it may not always be Mother's Day, every day is a day I get to be a mother.  And, I can't think of a better thing to celebrate.

Physical Activity as an option?!

Next year, Sofia will be entering Middle School.  Due to space issues in our town, the 5th graders have to move in with the big kids.  As she is my oldest child, I have no idea what to expect with this move.  Up until now, my biggest concerns were her being exposed to the older kids before she's ready.  I remember Middle School (vaguely), and I've heard how much it's changed since I was there.  I don't think a ten year old is ready to deal with all of it; but the school board didn't ask me, so I have to let her go. 

So, the kids went to the Middle School for a tour this week.  Sofia brought home a paper that was given to her at the end of the tour.  Apparently, she gets to choose what electives she would like to participate in.  First of all, I wasn't given any choices until at least the 8th grade.  In the fifth grade, it's like asking them if they want chocolate covered cake or carrot sticks.  HHMMMMMM... decisions, decisions.
Her two options were this:
1.  All year band, with one semester of P.E. and one semester divided between two other electives.
2.  All year P.E. with the other four electives being rotated through each nine weeks.

I was flabbergasted.  In the fifth grade, physical education is not a requirement.  The kids are given an option between sitting in a chair for seven hours a day and playing games for less than an hour a day.  I do not understand how, in a country/state/county/town where so many people are obese or overweight,  a ten year old can be allowed to be stagnant for the majority of their day.  And, I'm not even going to dignify their "lunches" with a post.  But let's just say that whatever the hell a Bosco Stick or a Crispito is shall never pass the lips of my children.

Sofia has chosen Option 1.  She really wants to join the band.  And, against my better judgement, I can't bring myself to tell her "no".  I'm not worried about her becoming obese, but I am not at all comfortable with her being inactive for so much of her day.  Kids need to run and play and learn how bad they are at sports.  They need to wear those awful gym outfits and navigate their way through a locker room.  It's a rite of passage in addition to being a good foundation for a healthy lifestyle in adulthood.  If they're not made to exercise as kids, what's going to bring them to it as adults?

I place a great deal of importance on health and nutrition in my house.  All of their food, while not necessarily arugula and tofu, is handmade and as organic as I can afford.  I make them go outside every time the weather allows.  I sign them up to at least try every activity that presents itself. But, I send them to school seven hours a day, five days a week, ten months a year.  I pack all of their lunches, but the girls are constantly being given candy and those terrible "snack cakes" that come wrapped in plastic.  (Sidenote:  what the hell is a snack cake?  Those are two words that should never be joined!)  Every morning I give the school district healthy, active kids.  And, every afternoon I'm returned a little less healthy, a little less active kids.  Gee, I wonder why Kansas has such a high obesity rate?!

Maya Marisela

This is my baby.  The child who reminds me every day to stop and smell the flowers.  Then pick said flowers.  Then place said flowers in her hair.  Then rip said flowers from her hair the moment she remembers that there could be bugs on them.

Maya Marisela.  She was the hardest to name.  We had accidentally given both of her sisters first and middle names that ended in "a", so I had to come up with a name for her that would match.  Maya was pretty easy, she's named after my favorite poet (Maya Angelou) - but, don't tell my husband.  He thinks she's named after the Mayan Indians from Mexico.  Aaahh... the things we do to make them think it's their idea.  She was almost Maya Valencia, but I decided that would cause too much drama, so Marisela it became. 

When she arrived, the sky got a little bluer and the air got a little sweeter.  Maya is a force to be reckoned with, though.  She is determined and willful and hard-headed. She is amazed by everything and impressed by nothing.  Maya will definitely be my "challenge" child.  And, I can't wait to see where her pink carpeted road leads us.

Miss Maya will turn four years old this week.  And, despite my best efforts, she's growing up a little every day.  She is three months away from starting preschool.  Which makes her about ninety days away from our first experiences apart.  Once that begins, she will only be a "baby" to me.  The world will see her as a big girl. 

But, I know that she will still have to hold my hand to cross the street.  And, she'll still need to run to me whenever she slips in her sparkly shoes and scrapes her knee.  Maya will still believe in princesses and fairy tales.  She continues to think that people live inside the radio and come out only to sing on tv.  She still has a dimple and roll for a wrist.  She covers both of our eyes during kissing scenes in the Disney movies.  And, while she'll deny it if you ask her, she relishes being the baby.  It's her trump card, and she's unashamed to throw it out there.  Want her to help her sisters pick up a mess? "But, Mama, I'm your baby!"  Want her to dress herself even though she's tired?  "But, Mama, I'm your baby!"  Want her to sit still for two seconds so you can finish something?  "Mama, hold me!  I'm your baby!"  Does it always work?  No.  Does her Mama sometimes take advantage just so she can hold her close and smell her hair?  Absolutely.

Maya Marisela is the last person I will ever have the honor of holding hands with.  She's the gift I gave a world that has a little too much darkness in it.  And, Maya is just the right girl to show you which flowers you should be putting in your hair to match your tutu.

You're welcome, world.  You're welcome.