What do you see when you look at me?  You see small wrists and think they're easy to grab and manipulate?  You see thighs smaller than your neck and think they couldn't possibly be strong enough to outdo you?  You see a woman, so I'm automatically easy to push around?

Know what I see when I look at you?  I see a head full of ego with nothing to back it up.  I see arms full of muscle that haven't ever been used to help, only hurt.  And I see a man so weak he can only pick on a woman half his size.

You think you know everything there is to know about me because you've heard it through the filter of a liar.  You think you can look down on me because you've never been caught showing your true colors.  What about all the times you got turned down when you snuck in behind his back?  You think you can tell me what to do with my life because you have a family turning a blind eye behind you.  You think you can spread lies about me to the people stupid enough to listen simply because the smart ones ignore you anyway.  Want me to start telling the truth about you?

You think I can't fight back because you're a man.  Please.  I've been knocked around by bigger, stronger, louder boys than you my whole life.  And I have never, not once, been beaten.  You are nothing.

No, there's no way my smaller hands or little arms can hurt you.  You've got me by at least 100 pounds, it's true.  But my mind?  Well, my mind could annihilate you in the blink of an eye.  So, think long and hard before you come at me again.  Because, there is nothing you could ever do to me that would lessen the strength of a life long lived in struggle.  And I'd be happy to show you that the next time you come at me like the loud mouthed, trash talking, lieing, bully, punk you are.

Say it

I say lots of things I shouldn't. 

There are so many times when, after saying every little thought that was running through my mind, I've thought: "well, that's going to come back to haunt you".  And it does, usually.

I tell people how I feel.  About them.  About what they're doing.  About how they're changing my world.  I tell people they're important.  Or beautiful.  Or mean.  Or selfish.  I tell people how they make me smile inside.  Or they make me cry when I'm alone.  I tell people the truth. 

And, I don't mind when they do the same to me.  If I make you feel something, good or bad, say it.  I can take honesty.  Truly.  If I'm being a bitch, say it.  If I make you smile at the thought of me, say it.  If you can't wait to watch me leave, say it.

But don't sugarcoat anything.  Sugarcoating is like trying to lie with a clear conscience.  It's a waste of perfectly good frosting because, in the end, it's still a lie.  You still weren't strong enough to tell the truth.  Be strong enough because I promise I'm strong enough to take it.  I don't have to like every word in order to want to hear all of them.

You're not going to like everything I say, but that won't stop me.  So, don't let it stop you.

Yes, a lot of words have crossed these lips.  And, not all of them were thought through first.  Some came tumbling out before I could find my filter.  But I have never regretted the truth, given or received.  Honesty should really be the only determining factor whenever you ask yourself "How do I say this?"

Just say it because, whether it be the beginning or the end, one of us has to.

Because

Because she was being ornery. 

I walked Maya all the way to her classroom today because she was being ornery.  She had brought something home the day before that she wasn't supposed to and I had to return it to her teacher.  I held her hand and took her to the lady who watches the kindergarteners before the bell rings.  I spoke to her teacher for a minute or two and walked back out of the classroom.  I couldn't find her at first, so I had a moment of panic staring into the faces of all of the other little bitty kids.  Then I turned to find her sitting behind me smiling. 
"I love you, mami.  Have a great day and I'll see you after school!"

Because she was being ornery, I got to smile at her an extra time this morning.

I worked all day, so I didn't know what happened in Connecticut until I had a second to check Facebook.  When I didn't know what everyone was talking about, I turned on the tv.

Because she was being ornery, I saw the inside of my kindergartener's classroom today.



A classroom full of kindergarteners.


So many mamas saw their babies off to school this morning.  Smiled and waved and told them they loved them.  So many families rushed through the morning routine on an ordinary school day.  So many little ones excitedly walked into their classroom today with thoughts of Santa or the weekend or lunch on their minds. 


Because she was being ornery, all I could see was her classroom full of little faces.

I waited with knots in my stomach for her to round the corner after school.  I rushed to her and carried her for the next fifteen minutes.

"What's wrong, mama?"
"I just missed you today."
"I missed you too, mama."
"I love you so much."
"I love you more than all the bumps on Mars."

We walked around to sister's door and squeezed her so hard she said I was strangling her.  We clung to each other all the way back to the car.

"What's wrong, mama?  Did something happen to Uncle Michael?"
"No.  Everyone we know is fine.  It's just been a sad day and I'm so thankful that you and your sisters are all safe and sound."

Because she was being ornery, I had a moment this morning of exasperation. 

I am so thankful that I am able to hold my babies tonight and tell them that I love them.  I am so lucky to be ending this day as whole and complete as I started it.  My heart breaks for all of the families who will never be whole or complete again.

Nothing will ever matter more.

Special

I have introduced this little person before.  Her name is Maya.  When she was born, she was quiet and sweet and went with the flow.  She snuggled with me and looked at me with her big dark eyes as if to say "You're the bestest mama.".  This lasted for approximately 25 months.  Then I got a better translation of that intense gaze.... "You're falling for it, mama."

This child is special.  I know you're thinking, every child is special.  No no no no.  This child is the kind of special that makes you sure she is protected under some endangered species act... the kind where you will get fined $10,000 if you disturb her habitat.  She does things that make you sure she's been here before and wrote the rules to her own game.

She stockpiles notes from her teacher.  The little "caught being good notes" that they hand out in kindergarten are overflowing from one pocket of her backpack.  Some are months old; but as soon as she gets in trouble at home, she whips one out like it's brand new.  "See, mama, I did good in school today!"

Every day while we walk around to get Eva, I ask her if anything exciting happened that day.  One day last week when I had come in to volunteer in the classroom, her answer was "You were the most exciting part of my day!" aaaaaawwwwwww Half a second later...before I had even finished forming the heartwarmed smile she inspired...as I was mentally reciting the words for my Mama of the Year acceptance speech... "Now who's your goodest child?".  Little manipulator.

Maya goes to the nurses's office at school three to four times a day.  She can't breathe.  She tripped as she was walking and did a complete somersault and hit the top of her head.  She can't find her class.  etc.  etc.  etc.  When I ask the nurse why she keeps letting Maya get away with this, her answer?  "She's just so cute!"  That's how she gets away with this stuff.

I ask each of the girls every afternoon what the best part of their day was.  One day, Maya's answer was "All the boys chasing me."  "Excuse me??!!"  Her explanation was "Yes mama, because I was so fast they couldn't catch me."

 

On Tuesday, she walked out of school looked right at me and didn't recognize me.  When she finally noticed me, she yelled in front of everyone: "Mama, you can't dress nice!  I don't see you unless you're wearing messy clothes."

 

On Wednesday, she walked directly into her classroom and before I had even left the building began telling her teacher that I didn't feed her breakfast.  She repeated this same story to at least two other adults before the office staff called me (presumably as a courtesy before they called CPS).  "No, Maya had eggs, sausage, toast, fresh fruit, orange juice, and a cinnamon roll less than an hour ago."  So, they put my little traitor on the phone.  Why did she tell people this?  She says she doesn't know, I say she thought someone would give her a pudding cup.

 

 

Yes, Miss Maya is special.  She's exasperatingly special.  She's knock your head on the wall special.  She's a roller coaster ride of special.

 

And she's all mine, which makes me kind of special too.

 



Random thoughts

I don't have anything earth shattering to say, but I do have a few miniscule tremors.

• There's nothing like seeing a middle school boy walking around with $250 headphones to make me want to follow someone home so I can shake his parents silly.
• Halloween should be moved to a weekend night.  Whoever decided that is has to be October 31st never tried to get three kids up and ready for school after staying up late covered in face paint sneaking candy out of a plastic pumpkin until their mama started threatening to turn them into ghosts.
• If you have the urge to make a kindergartner feel bad because their mama packs them "weird and inappropriate" food such as chile rellenos for lunch, please remember that this mama isn't afraid to come up and have a discussion about it.  Yes, I'm sure it would be ever so much more sensible to throw a Lunchable into a bag with a half liter of Mountain Dew and a beef jerky.  But my children eat actual food - not something that looks like it came out of a plastic kitchen and would be fed to a Barbie, so keep your comments to yourself.  Or bring them to the crazy lady waiting for you outside.
• The only thing wrong with Tuesdays is that they only come around once a week.
• If you don't have a friend who makes you laugh out loud every time they text you, you're really missing out.
• Skinny Caramel Brulee Latte is my new favorite beverage of choice.
• Taking a step out of your comfort zone is good for you.  Taking a running leap off of your comfort cliff is exhilarating.  Doing it in front of one of the few people who's opinion matters is best done after two margaritas and a sangria.

That's it for now.  Until next time...

I would rather know what is real than live a lie.  I would prefer to reach out and touch the pain that breaks me than constantly be chasing the salve that isn't made for this kind of struggle.

So, sometimes I reach out for you simply because I know you're not there.  In that moment before I open my eyes, I lay my hand on the cold side of a bed you've never seen in the hope that you'll be in a place you've never been.  And the loneliness swaddles me.  Because, if you were there, that would mean that life had inexorably changed.  It would shift my world in ways that I wouldn't recover from, and I would not be who I have always been.  I wouldn't be the one left behind anymore.  I wouldn't be the one overlooked anymore.  I wouldn't be able to lean on my comfortable sadness anymore.

So, I often start to make a call I can't finish only because I know you won't answer.  I work up an entire conversation in my mind right before I lay the phone back down and turn away.  Because I can't watch it not ring again.  Because I've listened to the silence for so long that I think it's your ringtone.

You are everywhere and nowhere, ever present and gone for good.  I feel your eyes melting my heart even as I hear your footsteps walking away.  I remember the words that broke open my sky even as I forget the way the breeze felt through my hair. 

And, I know what is real.  I can feel it on the cold side of the bed.  I can hear it in the silence.  And I can wrap myself in it as a shelter from the lies.  I won't cry anymore because the truth can't hurt me.  I won't hold on anymore because letting go will free us both.

Open letter

Dear Facebook commenters/Private Messagers/Random Texters/Behind my back talkers,


Yes, I have received all of your opinions.  I have listened to them, read them, contemplated them, and deleted them.  In the beginning, I responded to each of you personally.  Then I realized something... you weren't worth the time it took to respond to every single insult.  So, I will summarize my feelings to each of you now.

I know exactly who I am.

I am a woman who has landed on my feet.

 

I am someone who has played this game too many times to be surprised by the loss.

 

I have stood in the rain too many times to have forgotten the cold.

 

I have picked myself up too many times to sit in this place of sadness.

 

I have walked through fire to get to a place where I don't burn anymore.

 

While I'll never be anyone's image of beautiful, I am capable of holding my head high.

 

I am a loyal person who wants nothing from anyone that I wouldn't gladly hand over myself.

 

I am independent in every way that matters.

 

I am flawed.

 

I can open myself up to you knowing you'll probably run through me, stealing whatever you can.

 

I have been beaten but not broken.

 

I am a grown woman in a grown woman's body, and I don't need to apologize for that.

 

I was your friend until you proved yourself unworthy.

 

 

See, I don't need you to tell me about myself.  I don't need you to point out my flaws or contribute to my insecurities.  I wasn't waiting around for you to tell me everything that I'm doing wrong... I was out there trying to fix the problems.  The only thing each of you really gave me was a stronger conviction in who I am. 

 

So, for all of the nasty comments and name calling, I thank you.  And, for the swift removal from my life, you're welcome.  I know we'll all be better off.

Not THAT one

I'm not the one with the pretty face.  Or the nice body.  Or the perfect hair.

I'm not the one that will make the other guys wish they were you.  Or the one to make other women turn away in envy.

I'm not the one who will part the crowd.  Or change the temperature in the room.

I'm not the one who will ever take anyone's breath away.

I'm just the one who will feel more for you than you can imagine feeling for yourself.  The one who will forget everyone else is around when you hold my hand.

I'm the one who can make you feel ten feet tall and bullet proof.  The one who would walk through fire to make you smile.

I'm not the one you always wanted.  I'm just the one you should have.

Trading Up

I have traded tears of sadness for those of laughter.

Puffy eyes for pleasantly swollen lips.

Late nights of insecurity for long evenings of raging self confidence.

They say all good things must come to an end.  How come no one ever mentions that bad things do too?  Maybe because, in the center of the chaos, it feels like you will never find your way out.  Or because some people thrive on the madness and don't want to lay their heads in serenity.  And, maybe I was that person for awhile.  I have never known the calm that comes with weightless shoulders or the complete freedom of a quietly mending heart.  So, there's a chance that I was afraid of the sadness ending.  There's a chance I still am.

But, I didn't choose to be discarded.
Or disrespected.
Or ignored.
I didn't look at the menu of possible outcomes and order Years of embarrassment and loneliness with a side of Broken promises.

No, I didn't get to choose how I got here, but I'm sure as hell going to be the one steering my way out.

I am not sure where this road is leading, and I know that there will be bumps along the way.  I fear I'll even have moments of wanting to turn around and race back into the fire.  But, I have had a glimpse of light and I could sure use the warmth on my skin.

So, I am on my way.  My own way.

Girlfriends

Picking up my girls from school is always an adventure.  Maya insists on being carried (and her mama is all too willing to hold her after a long day of being separated).  Eva comes out of the door on the opposite side of the building, so we trudge through the sea of kids to meet her smiling face when she races for a hug.  Then, we weave through hundreds of little people who have no concept of walking at normal kid pace... and adults with no concept of traffic flow.

As we go, we get little snippets of conversations that can at best be described as straddling the line between inane and ridiculous.  Until today.

Today, I came across a small group of 1st graders.  Two boys and two girls.  I don't know how long they'd been there or how it started but here is what I heard:

Girl #1 to Boy #1 :  "How could you say she's ugly?  She's beautiful!"
Boy #1 shrugs and looks away from Girl #2.
Girl #1  gently places her hand on Girl #2s shoulder and smiles.
Girl #1 pops Boy #1 on the back of the head.
Boys walk away.

I stopped what I was doing and watched them.  I stood and watched as that little girl straightened her back and took her friend's confidence onto her shoulders.  I wanted to go to those girls and squeeze them.  I wanted to tell Girl #2, "Hold on to this friend with both hands.  Keep her by your side and always know that she is golden."  I wanted to take Girl #1 by the shoulders and make her look me in the eye while I told her, "You are a good one, little lady.  You are the kind of friend that people like me search a lifetime for."  And, I wanted to pop both boys in the back of the head.

See, Girl #2 was beautiful.  But, that is irrelevant.  Even if she had been hideous in form and character, her friend would've knocked that boy down anyway.  And, I don't know a single girl who doesn't need a person like that on their side. 

Those little girls are going to be preteens one day, and they'll need each other even more.  They'll lean on each other in the halls of the middle school where bullies lie in wait.  Then, they'll be twenty-somethings, and they'll look to each other to navigate the long roads of guys who will say anything to beat them down and girls who will sit and wait in the hope that those same guys will choose them next.  And, eventually, those two little girls will be grown women.  Women who will be surprised that the mean boys grow into meaner men and the jealous girls grow into vindictive women.

Girl #2 is always going to need Girl #1, but they don't know that yet.  All they learned today is that, whenever a boy needs to be smacked in the head, a real friend is already warming up her backhand.  And, at six years old, that packs quite a punch.

What is one thing you would like me to know about your child?

The last space on the kindergarten questionnaire asked:  what is one thing you would like me to know about your child?

One thing?!  What is one thing I want you to know about this person that's carrying my heart around in her hand?!

I would like you to know that her favorite color was pink until she found out every other girl in the world was copying her.

I want you to know how she saw someone make her sister feel bad for being a "tomboy", so she squeezed Eva's hand and declared that she only likes boyish stuff now too!

You should know that she's especially ticklish under her chin.

I need you to know that she will feign an injury if she's losing in a race so that the leader will stop to check on her, thus allowing her to blow past the poor sucker.

It would be great if you knew that she thinks butterflies fly higher than the sun and crabs eat chicken.

I would like you to know that nothing you say will convince her that she is not the boss of everyone.

I think you should know that she loves to cook with me and considers herself my official taste tester.

You need to know that she has the sense of humor of a grown woman, and I have no idea where it came from.

I think you should be aware that she's rolling her eyes at you every time you turn around.

And, I want you to know that she is her mama's pride and joy.  She is the most amazing kid in kindergarten this year, and you should be thankful you get to spend this time with her.  It breaks her mama's heart every morning when the school doors close behind her.

Instead of these things, though, I simply filled in the blank space with:

Maya is absolutely overflowing with personality.

Everything else is for me to know and the world to find out.

Up in the air

I like gravity.  I may even love it, but I'm too shy to tell it.

Everything in my life is up in the air right now.  It feels like I'm in the middle of a broken snow globe where everything swirls around me, but nothing ever really settles down.  Or maybe I'm on a trampoline and, every time I land on my feet, someone keeps bounding in to try to knock me off again.  And, sometimes it feels like that part of Charlie and The Chocolate Factory where Charlie drinks the stuff that makes him float.  And he floats so high he almost gets shredded by the fan.  Mostly, lately, it's the scene in Mary Poppins where everyone is having such a good time that their happiness makes them lighter than air.  And, they spend all day up there having an amazing time.  Until someone makes them think sad thoughts.

But gravity, well gravity keeps my feet on the ground.  It reminds me that this is not a dream and I cannot just float away.  Gravity is the sad thoughts that always show up to ruin the party.

I like the trampoline.  And the bubble juice.  And the insanely happy times.  But gravity is my comfort zone.  It's what I know best.  It holds me down and back.  I can wear it like a barbed wire sweater, and it fits perfectly.  Because, it may not make me happy, but at least it settles things down.

Fountain of Youth

Recently, I have started feeling self-conscious about my age.  Up until a few weeks ago, I really didn't care, but now I find myself hyper-aware of the date on my driver's license.  So, while I made cinnamon rolls at 3:00 this morning, I tried to think of things that make me feel young(ish).  Here is what flows through my own personal fountain of youth:

Kicking kid butt in card & board games.  I am the World Champion at Uno and Sorry!  Some people let their kids win and some beat them gently.  I wholeheartedly whoop up on my kids.  Every time. 

Dancing in the car/grocery store/parking lot.  Much to my girls' dismay, I cannot fight the urge to show my skills when the right song comes along... even if it came along in my head.

Beating Eva in a foot race.  Anyone who has seen Eva in action knows I don't have much longer to make her eat my dust.  Until the day she passes me though, I shall flaunt my awesome speed in her eight year old face!

The way my heart skips when fingers interlace.

No, I may not remember why I walked into this room...but I can recite every single word to any song from the 90's.  And, being able to keep up with DMX takes at least ten years off my age.

Ice cream cones.

Giggling.  Laughing is good.  Giggling is better.

Every single time I see the size on my jeans is several sizes smaller than it was in high school.

Blushing.

Being able to get up after only four hours of sleep and still see straight.  It may not be because I've been out at the club all night, but at least I know I can still function without a midday nap.

Talking to "Baby" Brother.  Nothing keeps you on your toes like carrying on a conversation with a 22 year old who uses words like "playa" and "gotsta".

Margarita night.

So, the next time I'm feeling queasy about my geriatric side, I'm going to fill my cup from this particular fountain.  I may not be Young, Wild & Free anymore... but two out of three isn't bad.

Competition

I have failed yet another parenting competition.  That's right, I lost another challenge.  This one, though?  This one, I'm ok with.  See, I cannot buy my children everything they want.  Heck...on most days, I can't buy them anything they want.  And, I cannot take them to all of the places that they want to go.  There are no trips out shopping for no reason.  Lunches out are a rare treat and never where they would choose to go.  Have you any idea how expensive it is to take three kids to a movie these days?!  And, please don't let it be 3D!  So, movies are reserved for special occasions only.  You heard me right... my children are bordering on abused and neglected.

Know what I can do, though?

I can tell you their favorite colors.  I can tell you the name of their favorite books.  I can tell you about every goal Eva has ever scored (including practices).  I can tell you Sofia's favorite song to play on her clarinet.  I remember every single lost tooth and how their breath smelled when I held them all night as babies.  I know what puts butterflies in their stomachs and what makes their eyes shine.  I know each and every one of their friends, not just by name but by face and attitude as well.  Their teachers not only know my name, but also my face and voice.  As do the school nurses, office staff, lunch ladies, and principals.  I know the first boy my daughter ever immortalized on a piece of furniture.  I know the lilt in their voices when they're lying.  I know what they want to be when they grow up and that they truly believe it will happen.  I heard the first word each of them spoke and I watched them read their first sentences.  I know that Maya will try to hide carrot sticks in her shorts to get out of finishing her lunch.  I know where they keep their deepest secrets, and I know that I would never go to those places uninvited.

I also know that my children know me.  They know my favorite color and the way I dance around the kitchen.  They know the tone of my voice when I'm serious and they know the lift of my brow when playtime is over.  They know that I will always be the person they can count on to stand up for them or behind them.  And, they know that I am always on their side - no matter what.

No, I can't buy my children the world.  I can, however, make them feel like the center of it.  And, that is not available in stores. 

Words

Pathetic.
Loser.
Ugly.
Worthless.
Unwantable.
Slut.
Fool.
Embarrassing.
Sorry.
Stupid.
Weak.
Silly.
Weird.
Old.
Fat.
Poor.
Unlovable.
Deserving.
Strong.
Amazing.
Real.
Worthy.
Hilarious.
Adorable.
Good.
Hot.
Challenging.
Tough.
Beautiful.
Sexy.
Smart.
Awesome.
Sweet.

Thirty three words that have been used to describe me in the last week.  I went back through my texts and this was what I found.  Thirty three adjectives that sum me up.

Seventeen are "negative", though much more real than the rest.  They were said by those who know me best.  Those who have known me longest.  Those who I've listened to for longer.

The sixteen at the end are dismissible.  They were said, but not meant.  And, I want to say they were heard but not felt; but that would be a lie.

I felt each and every one of the words that are on this page.  I smiled or cried with each syllable.  They made my day or lengthened my darkness.  And, now they each live inside me.  Because you can't believe the good if you don't believe the bad.  They are all someone else's vision of me.

Watch the words that you use with people.  If you don't mean them... don't use them.  If you don't want them felt... keep them to yourself.

Words are power.  Whispered or written.  Spoken or withheld.  They are also irretrievable.  These thirty three words changed me, one by one.  I can't unhear truths any more than I can unsee lies.

Less

Admitting you are wrong doesn't make you less of a man.  Saying you're sorry doesn't do it either.  Neither does walking next to the woman you're with rather than ahead of her.  Or acknowledging that, as a grown person herself, her thoughts might be as valuable as yours.  Placing someone else's needs before your own doesn't make you any less important.  And, no one is going to take away your "man card" for looking her in the eye when she's talking to you.

Look at her.  The woman behind you.  That's where she always is - in your corner.  Quietly cleaning up your messes.  Always making excuses for the choices you make.  Carrying the weight of the family you chose to create while you decide, much too late, if it's the right place for you.  Look at her.  She's not perfect, but she tried for a long time to be just that for you.  She put you ahead of herself for so long that she's forgotten what your face looks like when you smile.  She knows every hair on the back of your head, but couldn't tell you what your eyes look like in the sunshine.  That woman is tired now.  Tired of living in the wide shadow you cast.  Tired of claiming to be ok at the bottom of your list.  Just tired.

Being a man is about being strong and independent, true.  It is about a strong back and skilled hands.  It is surely about force of will and depth of honor.  But you misunderstand what those are to be used for.  A back strong enough to carry your responsibilities on.  Hands skilled in holding her gently when she needs it and pulling her through the difficulties when she needs that.  The force of will it takes to not accept every opportunity that crosses your path because you know the road you chose already has everyone you need.  And, honor held deep enough to be able to look her in the eye and know you would rather lose a limb than her trust.

So, look at her.  Turn around and look for her.  She isn't where you expected, is she?  She put away her broom and stopped making your excuses.  She doesn't carry your weight anymore, and now agrees that this isn't the right place for you.  She doesn't try to be perfect for you anymore, and she now sees she never could have been.  Your corner is empty of the strength and devotion you took for granted.

And that makes you less of a man.

Learning to walk on my own

Three years.  Every single school day that wasn't freezing or raining for three years.  On days when everything was coming up roses and on days when the thunderstorm followed us everywhere for three years.  Sometimes with a snack, sometimes with an attitude, always with each other for three years.

Eva was in Kindergarten the first time Maya and I took an afternoon walk.  We got to the school really early to pick up her sisters, so we decided to walk around "town" while we waited.

And that's how it started.  Since then, we've taken approximately 300 walks. 

We've giggled and laughed and talked our way through each one without a care in the world.

Sometimes, one of us would even skip through our walk. 

And, often, we would stop to enjoy the flowers.

Or stop to read to each other.







Or otherwise just show how fabulous we are.

But, mostly, we just walked together.  Talking about any and everything, Maya and I spent a few minutes enjoying the world together.





Until yesterday, when we took our very last solo walk.  My heart broke a little when we got back to the school.  In a few months, I'll be standing by myself outside of the school waiting for all three of my girls to walk out the doors. 

And, I'll have to learn how to walk on my own.



Learning to depend

I grew up knowing I couldn't depend on anyone.  Honestly, I never had a single feeling of "this person will come through for me".  From birth, I was on my own.

However, I am starting to learn to change that idea.  I am slowly allowing the kindness of others to be a welcome and expected - though always a little surprising - gift.  From the small words of encouragement I have received for this blog to the heartwarming praise I have been given over my new job.  From the people who always remember my girls on their special days to the aunts and uncles who make it possible for the girls to have special summer experiences.  I am one grateful person.

Be that as it may, I am constantly surprised by the absence of those I thought might show me a little support.  I am, by my own measure, not a perfect friend; but I consider myself one who can always be counted on when support is needed.  It has been hurtful to know that not everyone feels the same.  However, new friends have stepped into the places left vacant by now strangers.  I have never been the type of person who meets people easily, so it amazes me each time that a new person comes into my life and stays to play for awhile. 

And, my family is astounding.  My baby brother has become a much more present person in our lives since his accident.  The girls have seen him more in the last month than in the two years before he was injured, and we all hope we are able to keep it going after he completes his long recovery.  My dad and stepmom continue to be the perfect grandparents to their "perfect" granddaughters as well as a good support system for much-less-than-perfect me.  My extended family has shown me tremendous kindness in the small endeavors I have taken.  And, I have two sets of aunts and uncles that have big hands in making this summer one that the girls will remember forever.


Yes, I am truly blessed with a small group of people that I can depend on.  And, while I may never be quick to call for help or ask for favors, it's a new (and very welcome) feeling to know that someone will probably answer that call if I make it.

Knowing there might be a safety net under you sure makes that tight-rope walk a little easier.

Dear Maya,

And though she be but little, she is fierce. - Shakespeare

Dear Maya,

Happy 5th birthday, mami.  As much as I have begged you to let me cancel this day, you insisted on having another year pass.  As usual, your determination beat mine.  Really, all it takes is a little eyelash batting and an "I love you more than anything except God" to get your way.  *sigh*  You and I are in for one looonnngg ride.

You are truly one of a kind, my love.  Dainty and sweet one minute, fierce and ferocious the next.  You live to be the center of attention... until the very second someone takes notice.  You are full of sugar and, once you get past the thick layer of grit and chile, you are one of the sweetest kids I have. 

You make me laugh harder than anyone else (except maybe myself).  With one quick roll of the eyes or the astonishment of learning I will not actually be your maid forever, you and I end up on the floor rolling in giggles.

You are as smart as you are beautiful.  And, that is really saying something!  I don't know another preschooler that could out-spell or out-smile you.

You have promised to stay my baby girl forever, and I will absolutely hold you to that.  Whether you'll still stand on my feet while we dance in the kitchen... or bury your face in my neck when you're pretending to be shy... or stand by my bed at 2 in the morning saying "Hug Mama"... or even let me squeeze you before you head into school - you will always be my baby.  And, while one day I will deeply miss our arguments over whether or not it's appropriate to wear a pettiskirt or tutu every single day, I can't imagine having these discussions with anyone else.  I cannot imagine a day when we're not having a ten minute conversation over whether the light pink flower or the dark pink flower would go better with your outfit.  Or an occasion when I won't spend twice as long on your hair as I do on my own.

Maya, Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty have nothing on you.  You are, by far, the most enchanting princess the world has ever seen.  And, I am so thankful to be your mama.  Yes, you are little but there is no one more fierce than you.

Always,

Mama 

Not just a mama anymore

A while back I posted about how I wanted to be more than just my girls' mama.  I wanted to do something for me.  Well, I think I may have done it.

Coming this weekend to the Mirth Cafe in Lawrence, KS:

Little old me has been hired to bake for a real life restaurant.  I couldn't be more excited/nervous/anxious/overwhelmed.  This weekend, in addition to Maya's birthday and Eva's First Communion, I will be an officially professional baker.  I suppose I have been in a very small way already (through the sales of my cookies and cupcakes), but this feels more definite. 

I want to end with something profound, but really??!!  Words are failing me.

That girl

Be that girl, love.

The one who laughs a little too loud.

The one who worries more about comfort than the "sex" factor.

The one who would rather run with the boys than after them.

The one who knows that smart is forever while cute is fleeting.

The one who stands with her head held high not her belly sucked in.

The one who stays late to get the job done instead of rushing to get to where the fun is.

The one who isn't afraid to say no.

The one who knows that, if saying "no" bothers them, she should say it LOUD and often.

The one who can make the lonely feel part of something.

The one who doesn't care about the "popular girl" list - even if she's at the top of it.

The one who knows who she is without anyone trying to tell her.

The one who believes in herself, especially when others doubt.

The one who can make a mistake without feeling like one.

The one who chooses "right" over "easy".

The one who wears the comfortable shoes.


The one who knows there is no "secret" to anything.

 

The one that everyone secretly fears/envies/admires.

Someone has to be that girl, love.  Let it be you.

Ain't as easy as it looks

A lot is said about how easy kids have it lately.  I could go on and on about practice tests and trophies for 11th place.  I could rant and rave about getting rewarded just for doing homework and walking around with $500 gadgets that I can't afford to have myself.  I have bitten my tongue more times than I can count when hearing my child tell me about all of the television they watched at school that day.  (I mean really... tv watching was a BIG deal when I was in school.  You had to wait for the teacher to roll in the one tv assigned to your grade level.  And, it certainly wasn't an animated cartoon... it was probably an old video demonstrating the enthralling process of water turning to ice.)

What we don't talk about often, though, is how much harder some parts of childhood are now.  I hear about things happening with kids these days, and I cannot believe it.  They worry about things (and their parents worry about things) that never occured to me at the ripe old age of 10.

I didn't give my weight a second thought until after high school.  I ate Wendy's bacon cheeseburger meals ever single day for months without ever considering the fat content.  Now, kids are calling each other fat and squeezing their rolls in elementary school.  Little girls are worrying about what they look like in their jeans long before they should think about anything other than whether their pants are comfortable enough to roll down a hill in.  Plastic surgery should still mean switching heads on Barbies until you're well past graduate school!

And, when I was in high school, I looked like I was still in high school.  Pass any set of teenage girls now and see how many of them look like they're on their way to work instead of heading to Home Ec.  Yes, there were certainly kids in my school that were well put together all of the time, but they weren't put together by Vogue magazine.  What's wrong with looking like a kid while you actually are one instead of squeezing your middle age self into Juicy sweatpants and cleavage plunging tops?

Twenty years ago, if you wanted to spread a rumor about someone, you had to say it to someone's face.  In fact, you probably had to say it to a lot of faces if you wanted to make an impact.  Then, if you were "lucky" enough to spread the rumor, you got visited by the "victim" or friends of that person.  And, you got your a$$ kicked.  Bullies weren't anonymous. Now, any punk can get online and say anything to hurt someone.  Facebook, Twitter, texting, email, and everything in between can be used to destroy someone's reputation.  And, the poor soul who's been targeted is helpless to stop it.  Fair is fair and right is right... unless you have internet access.

And, our stupidity wasn't chronicled for everyone to see.  No photos exist of the complete nonsense I did as a teenager - nothing to save for posterity.  (Unless you count the yearbooks or old Glamour Shots.)  Yes, children do some remarkably foolish things now; but, so did we.  There just weren't cell phones and digital cameras around when we were doing them.  If there had been someone with an I-phone around when I was speeding around curves with my friends sitting outside the window of the car or singing out loud way off key to R. Kelly or Boyz II Men, it probably would have been on YouTube.  And, I probably would've wanted to die.  And, I would probably have become a lawyer just so I could sue to have them all taken off of the internet before my children learned to Google me.  But these kids will snap a picture of themselves doing the dumbest thing they can think of and make it their profile pic in a heartbeat.  They pose naked in front of a mirror so that they can send it to a boy they like.  And, once they hit "send", it's out there.  For everyone to see.  It's there for that boy to forward to everyone they know, to be forwarded to everyone they know, and on and on.  Until some creep in Romania has it as their screensaver in their basement apartment of their mother's home.

Sure, kids have a lot of things handed to them on silver platters.  They are coddled and babied more than I was as an infant.  However, they are also navigating roads we never set foot on.  So, maybe we should offer advice more than complain.  And, maybe we should spend more time trying to help them through these times before we point out how much harder it was when we were kids.

Then we can get back to talking about why in the world fifth graders are allowed to re-do assignments when they don't get a perfect score.  I could go on and on and on...

Dear Sofia,

Dear Sofia,

If I had known eleven years ago...

Before you were born, I worried that I wouldn't know how to love you.  I wasn't sure that I could care for you in exactly the way you would need me to.  I had no idea how a mother completely devoted herself to a child.  Then, 38 hours of active labor (most of which was done with an improperly executed epidural) had me really questioning what the heck I was doing.  An emergency c-section (through which I was put to sleep because they again couldn't get the numbing done properly) didn't help to steady my mind.  The last thought I remember having before I was unconscious was:  Wait... what?  The next thing I knew (two hours later), your papi was holding a rolled up blanket to my blurry eyes.  Wait... the blanket had black hair...wait... yes...that blanket is my child.

I remember every moment of your life.  Every one.  Your sisters lives have definitely gone by in a blur, but yours are crystal clear.

You were a sweet baby with a quick giggle and hair that stood out as though you'd been electrocuted.

You were a funny toddler with a sweet smile and a beauty that radiated from within.

You were a smart preschooler with a love of words...LOTS of words...all the time with the words!

You were a generous little kid with a caring heart.

And, now, you are an amazing young lady.  You are smart and thoughtful.  You are sassy and opinionated.  You are my pride and joy.

Things aren't always smooth with you, and I imagine they won't be for awhile.  You have certainly hit the "angst" stage much earlier than I anticipated.  Apparently, the line between parent and pre-teen is very blurred in your vision, though the optometrist assures me your eyesight is fine with your glasses on.  You are still, however, the first person I have ever really loved.  And, no matter how many times we butt heads, your heart is safe with me.

Yes, I worried a lot before you were born that I wouldn't be able to love you.  But that was before we met.  You are one of the three easiest people in the world to adore, and I wouldn't know how not to delight in you.

If only I had known eleven years ago how amazing you would be...

Always,

Mama

If I had seen how much pain and sadness were on this path, would I have walked it anyway?

I want to say yes, but I'm not sure.  I mean yes, I've lost a lot; but, look at what I've won.  I can look back and see that it wasn't always lonely.  There were moments of joy and laughter.  But they were only moments.  The times between were drawn out in endless emptiness.  I gave it everything I had - I truly did.  It simply wasn't enough; and, sometimes, it was nothing at all. 

If I had known when this started that it would end this way, would I have done it anyway?

I want to say no, but that may not be true.  Yes, it all feels wasted now.  Yes, I feel like my chance to choose the right path is gone.  But maybe this gravel road fit me better than one paved in gold.  Maybe the lessons I learned the hard way will make it easier for the girls when they set off on their own journeys.  And, maybe the means justify the end.

Right or wrong.  Running in blind or walking out wide-eyed. There is no simple answer when the questions cut so deep.

Old school

Maybe I'm just old school, but...

Kids are not little adults, they're a small step above babies.

They stand when an adult needs a chair.  Every single week at dance class, Maya and I are first into the building.  She and I sit in two of the three chairs available.  However, as soon as someone else enters the room, Maya gets up.  Because she's a kid.  Because that's an adult. And, because she knows her little self doesn't get the comfy spot.  Every single week, other people's children take those same chairs while the adults have to stand.

They don't control the remote or radio.  Mama doesn't have to sit through a cartoon or a Katy Perry song unless it's their birthday.  Each Saturday is movie night - this is their chance to pick whatever movie they want, and I get to sit there counting the minutes until the princess stops singing or the animated animal stops screeching.  Every other day and night, the girls are out of luck.  I have earned the right to watch the news and listen to Adele any darn time I wish.

They do not interrupt or join in on an adult conversation.  You know the phrase "don't speak unless spoken to"?  My children do.  And, on the occasion where they forget, they are reminded with a swift raise of the eyebrow.  I talk to my girls all the time, and they talk to me even more frequently.  They're not hurting for conversation, trust me.  But, as a rare treat, I sometimes get to talk to other grown folk.  The girls are not invited to these powwows.

They say please and thank you, regardless of what's being offered to them.  I don't care if someone asks them "Hey! Would you like some pterodactyl droppings for breakfast?"  My girls better say "No, thank you." with a smile.  I have been told "that doesn't look good" and "yuck" by other people's children enough times to know that not everyone has taught their children to be gentle with the feelings of others.

They eat what is put in front of them or they are hungry until the next meal.  At each meal, you have two choices - 1.  Eat.  2.  Don't. 

I was raised by a woman who put me in my place... deep in her heart and at the bottom of the food chain.  I sat at the kid's table.  I listened without talking.  I smiled politely when someone spoke to me.  And, I waited to grow up.  Apparently, a lot of parents no longer subscribe to these ideas.  My children are amazing, smart, capable kids.  But they're still kids.  And, kids are not little adults.  My girls are being raised to know the difference.  I guess I'm just old school that way.

Dear Eva,

Dear Eva,

You are my sunshine.  My only sunshine.  You make me happy when skies are gray.  You'll never know, dear, how much I love you.  Please don't take my sunshine away.

This has been our song since the day you were born.  It runs through my mind every single time I look into your eyes.  When you spent the first nine months of your life screaming your head off.  When you scored your first soccer goal.  When you became an amazingly proficient reader.  When you work hard on getting over the bumps in your road.  When you smile.  Oh, love, you have the most amazing smile.  It absolutely lights up the skies. 

Yesterday, you turned eight years old.  I cannot believe you've only been in my life for that long.  I feel like your soul and mine have been linked forever.  Truthfully, you have become my soul.  You are completely honest and honorable.  You are thoughtful and kind.  You are smart and strong.  And, you are beautiful in every way.  You have been thrown some curveballs and you have managed each with grace and a gentle spirit.  I cannot imagine the strength you use on a daily basis.

Of course, you are still just a kid!  You are an amazing soccer player and are really starting to find your way on the basketball court too.  You are faster and stronger than any other little girl I know.  My chest wants to explode with pride every time you don one of your jerseys.  From the day you were born, your favorite place has always been outside.  So, it makes perfect sense that you have become such an athlete.  You love writing and art too.  And, while I don't think you'll be named Picasso at any point, your stories always make me smile.

Eva, you are the most amazing kid.  I could not be more proud of you, though I take no credit for who you are.  There's no way I could've guided you to the near-perfection you have found.  The only person who could've accomplished that is you.

You will always be my only sunshine - making me happy though skies are gray.

Always,

Mama

I am

I am many things, but none of them are determined by anyone but myself.

I am a fighter.  Not in the sense of black eyes and bruises (though it could come to that if pushed), but I will fight for what I believe is right.  I will fight for those who can't defend themselves.  And, I will fight you over the middle piece of cake.

I am a teacher.  I have taught each of my children to chew with their mouths closed and to think with their minds open.  Now if I could just get them to fold their clothes properly.

More often, I am a student.  Learning to be a stronger person and a better parent is a class I will never complete.

I am a bitch.  This requires no further explanation than just spending a few minutes with me...particularly when dealing with morons and bad drivers.

I am a mother.  To my three daughters, but also to anyone else who may need a little guidance or a helping hand.  Just don't expect me to change any more diapers.

I am a protector.  This is probably my strongest identity.  I am fiercely protective of everyone I care about.  Fiercely.

I am a listener.  Talking is not really my strong suit, but I hear everything you say.  Keep that in mind the next time you open your mouth about me.

I am a lover.  I love deeply and passionately.  Once I love, it is very difficult to turn it off.  Once I turn it off, I throw away the knob and you will never feel the warmth of my heart again.

I am a mother.  I say this again because it is who I most often have to be.

I am a supporter.  I love nothing more than to hold someone up when they need a little extra strength.  My shoulders are open to anyone who needs to stand upon them.

I am a maid.  Not my favorite identity, but one I have to exercise more often than I would like to.

I am a cook.  Somewhere between a short-order cook and a chef de cuisine is where I lay my apron.

I am a chauffeur.  Soccer practice, school (times three), dance class, choir practice, basketball practice, orthodontist appointments, blah blah blah.

I am a cheerleader.  No bullhorns or pom poms needed.

I am a challenger.  Don't test me without expecting a fight.  I will challenge everything that isn't set in stone... and I will even question that if there is a chisel handy.

I am a friend.  While I don't have many, the ones I do have can count on me to hide a body, lighten a mood, or drink them under the table.

I am a woman.  Soft skin and hard stares.  Strong will and weak heart.  Quiet anger and loud devotion. 

And, I am a mother.  Morning, noon & night.

I determine who and what I am.  I am not defined by anyone or anything.  Love me or leave me alone, but stop trying to change me into who you want me to be.  I fit no other molds and no one can fit into mine.  And aren't we all really grateful for that?!

Valentine's Day

Before my brother was in his accident, I had started doing some little special somethings for the girls to celebrate Valentine's Day.  And, while it came to a quick end when life got in the way, the girls enjoyed the little treats I snuck into their lunchboxes.

 Eva's valentines took much longer than anticipated, but she really loved the results.  We hope her friends did too.

 Last year, Maya had a valentine where it looked like she was handing out a sucker.  This year, thanks to Pinterest, everyone had one of those it seemed.  So, we modified slightly...

 Also new this year, I made a mystery dinner for the girls.

 They were each handed a menu with thirteen items to choose from.  Each choice was disguised by a coded word or phrase.  I served them four courses and they each got to choose three items for each course.

 Course #1:

 Course #2

 Course #3

 Course #4

 Not the healthiest dinner I've ever served, but one night won't kill us!  Also, this was A LOT of work; but, the girls had a GREAT time trying to figure out what was coming next.

Finally, for fourteen days, we each wrote a secret note to each other explaining what we loved about that person.  After dinner, we sat down together and read them out loud.  This was my favorite part because we each HAD to say something nice about each other.  It was interesting to see what was written down. 

I hope everyone had a good "heart" day.  While mine was certainly tainted, I tried my hardest to make it special for the girls.  I can't wait for their uncle to open his eyes and see the valentines we have set at his bedside!

Teachers

I want to say, in advance, that I feel sorry for you.  And, the "you" I mean is anyone who doesn't have a kid in Eva's second grade class.  Well, really anyone who hasn't had a kid in any of Eva's classes since Kindergarten.

I had some good teachers when I was growing up.  I even had two AMAZING teachers.  One was my math teacher in 7th grade...she believed in me in a way no one had before.  The other was my creative writing teacher when I was a senior in high school.  She changed my life in more ways than almost anyone else ever has.  There were some bad teachers also, of course... the ones who were obviously there because the position of "Troll under bridge" was already taken.  But, now that I'm grown, I can see that they were already living their punishment for being bad teachers... they were teachers.

Now, as a mother, I am what one would affectionately call a "helicopter mom".  I don't like to let anyone borrow my car, so I certainly didn't relish the idea of sharing my kid with a complete stranger seven hours a day, seven days a week, eight months a year.  Unfortunately, the idea of keeping my child at home twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, twelve months a year, for eighteen years didn't appeal to me either. 

Wait...and you want me to teach them too?!  Look, I can teach them to brush their teeth and chew with their mouths closed, but geometry and the theory of relativity is better left to the professionals!

So, I reluctantly sent them off to school at the first moment I was legally required to do so.  And, for the most part, it has been a major blessing.  (For them as well as for me.)  My girls have been shared with some amazing women who have cared for them almost as well as I do.  As a matter of fact, with the exception of Sofia's 2nd and 3rd grade (when she was bullied and left unprotected by her teachers), ALL of their teachers have been really good.

However, Eva has been truly blessed.  In Kindergarten she was taught by a woman who could be a professional grandma.  Truly, she could rent herself out as the doting old lady who smells like cookies.  She is that special.  We loved her.  Then, in first grade, when Eva's issues started to really present themselves, she was placed in a class with a woman who spent the extra moment Eva needed to feel settled.  She was patient and kind with a kid who needed to feel a little extra love in her day.  And, it certainly helped me when I spent all day worrying about whether or not Eva would ever feel safe anywhere.

But, this year, Eva (and her mama) hit the jackpot.  Eva's second grade teacher is an angel.  I want to rummage in her desk drawers just to see which one she hides her halo in.  This teacher believes in Eva, and Eva knows it.  This teacher puts up with Eva's mama, and Eva's mama is so grateful.  This teacher makes Eva feel safe, cared for, believed in, strong, beautiful & smart.  In other words, this teacher sees Eva for all that she really is.  I don't have to worry about Eva being ignored or left out in this class.  As a kid who used to make not a single sound in school, I was most worried that she would be overlooked because she was so "easy".  In a class with too many kids, I was concerned that the unruly kids would get all of the attention.  I don't have to spend all day thinking about whether she is shaking in nervousness or cringing in fear.  I can drop her off in the morning and feel nothing but relief that she is heading into a room with a woman who cares for my girl almost like one of her own kids.  Words cannot express what that means to me.

I went to Sofia & Eva's parent-teacher conferences yesterday.  Sofia's teacher likes her a lot.  She says Sofia is a good student, and the report card supports that sentiment.  I never worried about teachers liking Sofia, she is a ready-made teachers pet.  However, my meeting with Eva's teacher was the highlight of my day.  I am able to talk to her about things that I don't feel comfortable telling anyone else.  I don't worry that she'll hold that information against Eva in any way.  I know that, whatever I tell her, Eva's teacher will love her all the same.  She sees things in my girl that I never thought anyone else would.  She can read Eva's eyes, and I am so thankful for it.

So, for anyone who doesn't have teachers who see your kid's soul:  I feel so badly for you.  It makes all the difference.  Especially to a helicopter mama who could easily make a teacher's life unpleasant for making one of her kids feel "less than".  And, from the bottom of my cold heart, I thank all teachers that make the special kids feel a little more special.  The mothers of those kids couldn't be more grateful that you found a drawer to hide your halo in.

"Tween" a mental institution and the morgue

I don't remember "tween" being a word twenty years ago.  One day you were a kid, and the next you were a teenager.  I imagine not all kids were as perfect as I was, but I don't recall there being a term for the age between innocence and hysteria.  The next thing you know, there will be a medication for kids to ease their way into the tragically rough existence of teenagers.

Until then, I am thankful for the adult medication that is dulling the edges of tween angst.  I am talking of course about earplugs, vodka & locked doors.

My Sofia has apparently fallen victim to the tween epidemic.  In case your household isn't as lucky as mine, here are some of the warning signs to look for:

They must stomp everywhere they go.

Their eyes are in a constant rolling motion.

They develop cataracts, which makes it impossible to see that other parents do, indeed, inflict their children with chores too.

Their shoulders are in a perpetual slump.

They are prone to moments of insanity whereby they actually believe they can challenge you on everything.

When they lose these challenges, they immediately call foul and revert to toddler temper tantrums.

Nothing you do is good enough.

Their lives are harder than you could ever imagine.

In other words, they could win an Academy Award for Best Actor/Actress in a Dramedy series.

I spend most moments with my eldest child vascillating between three things

exasperation

uncontrollable laughter

the kind of anger where you need at least 400 feet, a concrete barrier, and a squad of riot police between the two of you

Now, I expected drama.  I expected battles.  I even expected to want to rip my hair out.  I just didn't expect it so soon.  I was caught completely off-guard by her sudden immersion into the craziness that is growing girls.

I love Sofia.  I adore Sofia.  She was/is/always will be my first real love.  But, if she doesn't knock it off, I'm going to have to choose which direction I'm heading.

The mental institution or the morgue?

She clearly didn't inherit EVERYTHING from me.

She tried.  God bless her, she really tried.  She set her feet, cocked her hip, and steadied herself against the counter.  I felt a little swell of pride in my chest... right before I laughed in her face.

Sofia actually took me on this morning.  It was practically a duel at sundown in their bathroom.  I wanted her to brush her teeth in a manner that befitted the layer of slime that covered them.  She wanted to wipe them gently in an effort to not disturb the science project she's working on below her gums.

So, the stare-down began.  Unfortunately for her, I have never lost.  In reality, no one has ever actually challenged me for more than a few seconds.  Bless her heart, she tried for at least a minute.

See, I've never made anyone weak in the knees.  I've never made anyone's heart flutter in excitement.  My talents lie elsewhere.  I can make people's ankles shake.  And, I have been known to make a person or two slump a few inches in the shoulders.  I can say more in the cock of one eyebrow than any high paid defense attorney can in an hour of cross-examination.

Really?

You're sure you want to go there with me?

Do you want to try to say that to my face?

I dare you.

Bring. It. On.

So, Sofia gave it her best shot.  Who knows?  Maybe it would've worked on a less capable opponent.  But, if you're going to challenge the master of dirty looks, you have to be willing to walk away in shaky shoes. 

I appreciate the effort, Sofia.  Better luck next time, dear daughter.  And, if it still doesn't work when you try again, at least I'll get another good giggle out of your effort.

To get the words out of my head

My world is fluctuating between lots happening and nothing at all (and often it's all at the same time).  And, most of the time, I don't have anything really positive to say.  So, I don't say anything at all.  When you're the person people look to for laughter and jokes, it's hard to say the unhappy stuff sometimes.  This is when the words start building up in my head.  I'd like to make some space in my mind now, so I have to clear out some of the backlog.  If you're looking for laughter/sarcasm/funny stories, this one isn't for you.

When every step forward feels wrong and standing still isn't an option anymore, take a step backward instead.  I feel like I'm standing on a tightrope extended over a pit of lava and woman-eating crocodiles with stilettos on my feet and three people balanced on my shoulders.  The rope is giving way beneath all of the weight and the other side is too far away.  I would like to just take a few steps back and find another way across.

You couldn't know good if you never knew bad.  Well, I'm very well acquainted with bad.  Bad and I are on a first name basis.  Really, we've moved on to silly nicknames and secret handshakes.  I can recognize good in other people's lives.  Even when you don't know where it's coming from, you see it in the ease of their shoulders and the light of their eyes.  I don't know if I'm jealous as much as sceptical.  I suppose it's a lot like knowing that the world must be flat, but not ever being able to get to the end.  You're glad you're wrong, but will always have a little doubt.

Not everyone is meant for happy endings.  It's true, some people find love and keep it forever.  Some people find the person they're meant for and they live happily ever after.  Some people are put on pedestals and appreciated for who they are.  But others never will be.  It's not fair, but nothing ever really is.

You don't find yourself in a bad situation.  You walked there of your own volition.  You have to take responsibility for closing your eyes and hoping for the best.  When you make a decision, against all of your better judgement, you don't get to be surprised that it all falls apart.  If you say "yes" when you mean "no", you'll always get the opposite of what you were looking for.

Maybe you got too used to having me around.  Appreciate what you have, especially when you know you don't deserve it.  Because, sooner or later, that person will realize you didn't deserve it either.  And, losing something you leaned on and took for granted is harder than losing something you were never given in the first place.

If you go through your whole life without ever being chosen, that's no one's fault but your own.  You can't blame everything on everyone else.  Sometimes, you're getting exactly what you deserve.  Often, you discover this when you're getting nothing.


There.  Now I have a few empty corners to fill up.  Hopefully they will be filled with laughter and sunshine.  Hopefully.