The Hardest Goodbye

     When we lose someone to death, we believe we know where they go.  We hope we know where they go.  It's unspoken; a community of people with their own beliefs, but ultimately, we know that we will never see this person again in our lifetimes.  Aside from an Afterlife (for those who believe in one), in this life, they are wiped away, left only as memories.  Now imagine trying to explain this to a little one, when sometimes you're not even sure of what you believe, or as you yourself are trying to come to grips with it.

Miss G and her Pop-pop.

     My dad died.  Wow....it still seems unreal to type or say.  Although we knew it was coming, (I mean, no one gets better from ALS, and believe me, a small part of me hoped), it still did not make it any easier knowing I would never speak to him or hug him again.  His smile is no longer present, but is now seen in pictures and in my mind.  There are moments when I am at peace with this because I know he is at peace now, but there is also another side of me that is so lost that it scares me.  On top of this, we had to explain it to our daughter, being that she is 5 and would notice Pop-pop not being around.  Li'l B is 3, so we knew he wouldn't understand.  I had tried so hard to shield her from death and would make up super nice stories of people "going to the Ball" and dancing, but she was 3 then and it was just magical to her, and no other explanation was needed.  I knew my dad passing would be different.  Plus she saw me constantly crying or wiping at my eyes, so she knew something wasn't right.

Li'l B and his Pop-pop.

     My husband did the honors, because frankly, I just couldn't without breaking down.  He sat Miss G and Li'l B on his lap and told them how Pop-pop went to this place called Heaven, where he can walk, run, bike, and swim like he used to.  Miss G squealed with delight.  It was heartbreaking.  Then my husband looked at her and said, "But where he is, he can never come back.  He can watch over us, but we cannot see him anymore, but he is all better there, but sadly he has to stay there."  She smiled and said, "Okay, daddy," and Li'l B asked to play with his ball.  Go figure.  I told her as I patted my chest, "He is in here now and we can take him wherever we go.  He is a part of us always."  She smiled and went back to playing.  So, I guess this story was magical to her as well, but from time to time, either as we are traveling in the car or playing Uno, she'll look at me and say, "Mommy, I'm really sad that I can't see Pop-pop anymore, but I'm happy that he isn't in his wheelchair."  I can only choke out that she's sweet and that her Pop-pop loved her very much.

     At night, I do a 'Dream Bubble' for both of the kids, as they believe it protects them from bad dreams.  I have started asking them what a great dream may be to have, basically to get their minds off of anything scary.  The other night I said to Miss G, "Let's think of some nice dreams we could have tonight.  What would you dream about?"  She thought for a moment and then smiled at me.  "I want to dream about Pop-pop," she said.  "He'll walk up and open his arms and I will run and jump up and he will hug me." 
               "That sounds like the most wonderful dream," I smiled at her, my eyes burning, "I hope to have that dream tonight too." 

     Like others who have lost someone, I will never go a day without thinking of and missing my dad.  I will always speak about him to the kids and show them many pictures.  I will share stories from long ago and those that they may remember.  We will keep his fight going and will never give up.  We may have had to say our hardest goodbye, but that does not mean that he does not live on in each of us.  Although he is no longer physically with us, it does not mean he will ever fade away.  His zest and spirit are just too strong for that. 



    
    
    

Can't Never Could

     "I just want to become a child's favorite story," I told my husband.  "I'm not doing this to make millions of dollars or for fame. Sure, I'd love for it to pay some bills, but just the act of telling a story and having a child request my book to be read over and over, it blankets me in a feeling I can't describe.  It's a passion, a calling."
      His response, "Then do it."



     My husband.  I truly have never met anyone like him.  Knowing that I've always wanted to be a writer, (which is why I received a B.A. in English that no one asks for) he says to me, "Just think, when the kids start school, you can stay home and write. There'll be peace and quiet, and you'll really be able to concentrate, research, and write."  I laughed, thinking he was joking.  Nope.  He was serious.  I said, "Wouldn't you rather me get a job, preferably one that consistently pays?" 
     He replied, "If writing is what you want to do, then you should do it."
     Nobody needs to tell me how lucky I am, I've realized it on multiple occasions. 

     When I thought of being a writer, novels were the first things to come to mind.  Children's books were not even in the picture.  I told my husband this and he said, "Your priorities changed.  You write your children's books now, and when you have more time, you focus on those novels." 
     "What if I stay home, write my books, and nothing ever comes of it?" I challenged back.
       He looked me right in the eye and said, "Well it won't if you go into it thinking that way."  He had a point.  Where else had I heard that similar phrase?  Oh yeah, my parents. 

     That's the scary thing though for people who are putting themselves out into the world in a very raw way; you're setting yourself up for ridicule, judgment, the crushing of dreams, and very real failure.  But first, you have to muster up the strength and courage and put yourself out there.

   I received my first rejection via email today from an agent.  I'll admit, it stung, and they were actually pleasant about it.  It's like someone saying, "Your kid's just not good enough."  Because that's what an edited manuscript feels like; your baby.  But something else occurred to me.  How many of The Greats were turned down by agents?  It's not going to happen overnight.  I am excited for this work to be in the hands of children; the cover and pages being worn and torn from repeated readings. "Just once more, mommy, pllleeeease!"  This book being taken on road trips, shoved under the arm of a child, right along with their favorite blanket.  Knowing that there are squeals of laughter at all the funny parts.  That's the vision I need to keep with me, not the rejections or possible failure.  You only truly fail if you never try. 

 I keep hearing my dad's voice saying, "Can't never could."  And it used to drive me mad when he would say it.  But he was and is still right.  And I'm not "Can't".

 I just want to become a favorite story.



    

White Flag Flying

    

     Oh, you know those days.  We've all been there so don't even think about lying.  Take your hand away from your chest and wipe the "Me?" look off of your doe-eyed face. You know the ones. Those days when you think to yourself, "If I have to raise my voice one more time, I'm absolutely going to lose my freaking mind!"  Those days when you have absolutely convinced yourself that your darling little angels have become possessed by Satan himself.  (Okay, maybe too far.  We'll say demons.)  And if you're a stay-at-home mom like myself, those days when you have threatened, dare I say daycare on your kids and are already pulling up CareerBuilder and slamming down the Search button.  Well, let me tell you my friends, we have had a lot of those days lately here in our homestead.  I'm pretty shocked that:
                a. I haven't lost my voice yet
                b. I still have most of my hair. 
                Oh, and c. That I haven't run screaming from our house.
The white flag has been waving proudly! 

     As a mom (or any type of caregiver, really) I am always dubious about how well I am actually doing.  All. The. Time.  "Could I have handled that situation better?  Did I necessarily have to yell about what just happened?"  And that's another thing I've discovered about myself; I am not a yeller. I actually despise yelling!  Yeah!  And amazingly enough, it feels like it's what I do for 70% of the day when these two transform into their monster counterparts.  I swear I open my mouth to tell them to pick up toys or put their coats on and their little "Mommy Radar" beeps in their head to shut down the ears.  I'm not actually yelling because they're misbehaving, I am yelling just to be acknowledged.  My throat actually hurt today from trying to get Li'l B's attention.  *Enter a growl here because frankly, I physically can't scream*  Then I start to think, "Maybe they're doing this on purpose. Clever little devils."  And the veteran moms out there just say, "They're testing you.  Trying to see how far they can get."  Well.  I can tell you, I feel like I'm about to fail this "test" and as far as they're going to get is to their rooms. 

     I never wanted to be that mom who yelled all the time; I'd always been this laid-back, calm person so naturally I was under the impression that it would flow over into motherhood.  When I envisioned motherhood, it was me standing in a meadow, sunbeams cascading down over my shoulders, my hair blowing gently in the breeze, my arms outstretched towards my children as they ran laughing and smiling into my embrace, all of us falling over as one big giggling mess.  *slap*  Yes, that was reality slapping me right across the face.  My eyes are watering a tad.  Reality is...we yell just to be heard, we silently scream in our heads, we wonder if anyone is ever listening, and we talk to ourselves because we're the only ones who'll listen to ourselves.  (Did that make sense?  My brain feels fried, apologies.)

     Just as I'm waving my white flag high above my head yelling, "Uncle! Uncle," my little man comes up, wraps his arms around my legs and says, "I love you, mommy."  Then his sister takes the hint and hugs me, telling me how pretty I am.  The little devils drive me to the brink of insanity and the little angels bring me right back.

     Guess they don't want to go to daycare.  *wink*



    

Life Is Good

     So, a short while ago,  I went to the craft store to find some things for the wall I'm decorating behind our couch (it's only taken me 6 years, yes years, to do this; News Flash, I am no Martha Stewart) and found this script that reads, "Life Is Good".  I stared at it for a bit, envisioning how it would look where I thought it would go, but then realized that my mind had wandered (as it does a lot) to how our lives certainly are good.  I guess my mind figured, "Why put this saying up if it isn't true?"  Yeah, I'm weird like that.  You'll come to understand the madness.  Just give it time.

     I bought the script and as I ran other errands, I got to thinking about life; the good of it, the bad of it, how we got to where we are, the paths and roads we chose that got us to this point, how things could've been different had we chosen different options.  No one in this world is without worry.  I don't care who you are, there is something that matters to someone, everyone.  We do not know what others go through or are currently going through in their lives.  We wish for bigger houses, more money, better jobs, shiny cars, love, babies, the list is endless.  Do we ever just stop, look around and say to ourselves, "Look at all I have that makes my life good,"?  I did just that today, because I am guilty of wanting just a little more out of life or worrying about what may happen in the future, and not taking the time to look around at what I've already got, and truly appreciating it all.

 

     As I thought of everything that I have that I should rejoice about, being able to stay home with my kiddies topped the list.  And don't get me wrong, I loved working, and yes, still long to feel like a professional, but how many times while I was at work did I think, "God, I'd just love to be home right now, playing with my kids or discovering with them,"?  Too many times to count.  Now, I make our schedules (or am run by the kids' schedules), I get to go outside on warm days and have picnics in our backyard, create masterpieces on the front porch in chalk, become a monster that makes the kids join forces to defeat (during playtime, well, same may go for when mommy's having a bad day), full-time on-call boo-boo kisser, Play-Doh sculptor extraordinaire, and the best giver of hugs, all day long.  Sure, I don't get to punch out and call it a day or take off when I'm sick, and my income contribution is zero, but the good days far outweigh the bad and no amount of money could replace the memories being made.  And on those before mentioned "mommy bad days" when the kids are driving me to the very brink of insanity, I step back and think, there are people out there in the world who would just love to be able to have the kids to drive them crazy.  It's all about perspective. 

     Another thing I am grateful about is the fact that we have a roof over our heads and food on our plates.  Do we live in a huge house?  No.  (Plus, I shudder at the thought of cleaning a house that size.)  Do we go out to eat every night at fancy-schmancy restaurants?  Nope.  I make our meals, and due to the picky eaters, I sometimes even do special orders.  But we're very fortunate that we have these things and we know it.  We watch our finances and don't have all the cool, hip new gadgets out there, and that's fine. We are rich beyond measure in our own eyes. We know life can change on the turn of a dime. 



     What if for one whole day, we all thought, "Life is good"?  Really looked at the things we are blessed with in our lives and for one moment forgot about the negatives.  Friends, family, significant others, children, jobs, food, health, happiness, whatever matters to you, actually think about it and appreciate it.  Big things, small things, whatever matters most. Some people won't have what others do, but what means something to one person may not mean the same thing to another.  Take in the little things like watching the sunrise, hearing a bird call, smelling the fragrance of a Fall day, embracing someone in a hug, making someone smile with your kindness.  So many times people say, "I wish I could go back to when life was better, things were easier," etc.  Well, embrace these days, and let this time be the time and moments you'd like to go back to.  Because Life Is Good, you just have to step back and notice it.





    

Just a Swingin'

     I personally find myself always feeling like I'm in a rush, so in turn, I rush my kids.  No matter what they are doing, I find myself uttering, "Hurry up, will ya?"  Now, sometimes, the rush is warranted, like if we are running behind getting to preschool, dance, or a play date and one (if not both) kiddies decide that they want to try and strap themselves into their car seats.  (I literally picture my hair graying and the wrinkles forming as they take their sweet time trying to figure out the contraptions.)  On many occasions I've had to basically tell myself to slow down.  Why am I in such a hurry anyway?  Where's the fire?  (As if I could put it out.) We could have all the time in the world and yet for some reason I feel like we have to go a million miles an hour.  I blame society really for all the hustle and bustle just to actually get nowhere.  *wink*  Today however, I had a slow down moment.  And it was glorious.  I shall do it again soon.

     One of the memaws took Li'l B to storytime (which was a trial run that surprisingly went great, I think he's growing up!), so that left Miss G and me to ourselves.  She loves the park near our house but I am apprehensive to take both kids there as it is tailored more towards bigger kids, i.e. Miss G's age and older, and long falls for Li'l B. (The last time we went there, daddy was with us and had no fear about B climbing all over these skyscraper-height playlands and all I could picture was him tumbling through an opening....*shudder*.)  Okay, so maybe they're not "skyscraper" height, but to a mother, they are monstrous. So, I told her that we would go to the "Big Park", which brought on numerous squeals.

     We get to the park and G wants to climb up the dome, hang, drop down, climb again, hang, drop down, climb again, well, you get the gist.  So, I stand there, watching her, looking around, thinking of what I need to accomplish this afternoon.  While marking off "things to do" in my head, I hear G saying, "Mommy!  Mommy!  Let's go swing!"  And off she runs.  I walk towards her and decide to sit on the swing beside her.  She starts kicking her legs out and in, slowly getting higher and higher exclaiming, "This is FUN!"  I decide to partake.  As I get going higher and higher, I lay back so that I'm looking at everything behind me upside down. I started to feel like a kid again.  Free, no worries, just fun and giggles.  Miss G screams, "Mommy!  That looks like fun!"  I say to her, "It is!!"  The higher I go, the freer I feel.  Swinging isn't getting chores done around the house, it isn't getting us anywhere except for back and forth.  But the sun was shining down, we were both laughing, and I just relaxed and let the sunlight and warmth bask over me.  Right in the moment, lists disappeared from my mind, worries dissipated, I only concentrated on going higher, feeling the breeze on my face and through my hair.  I closed my eyes, seeing the red of the sun and gave all of it to flitter away in the wind.  I smiled. 

    Something as simple as swinging got me to thinking, we are so used to rushing around in this world: to the store, to doctor's appointments, to work, home, running errands, that we may unintentionally be rushing our children's childhoods too.  When they are trying to buckle their seat belts, we immediately rush in to do it for them instead of standing back and letting them learn.  Or when they are trying to tie their shoes, we want to swoop in as to save time.  When they are outside playing we may find ourselves bored because we feel it is not productive.  But it is.  Maybe if we followed a child's example, we'd all learn to slow down a bit, let go, and jump on the swings. 



     Miss G and me on our first swing together, 4.10.10.

When a Fishy Jumps Ship (aka, 1st Day of Preschool)

   



      I was surprised really.  I thought there would be lots of tears, constant hugging, grabbing onto ankles while crying out, "Don't leave me!"  But no.  I was brave.  Miss G had been so excited about starting preschool and I for sure thought, "Yeah, until the day of, then we shall see."  There were no tears, lots of hugging though (I just couldn't let her go, give me a break!), and strong smiles to cover up the heartache.  Okay, it was mainly myself that I was worried about because I realized one day that she is already a very strong, independent child, and while I'm extremely proud, it still scares the sh*t outta me!  Aren't I needed anymore?  Aren't I wanted?  It's just that easy to turn and walk away with a wave over her shoulder?  Oh the humanity! 

     Her little brother and I walked her into the building, G excitedly holding onto the straps of her book bag, eyes wide and full of excitement, big smile plastered on her face.  I held out my hand for her to grab and she politely said, "No mommy, I don't need to hold your hand, I want to hold onto my book bag."  I just looked down at her, bewildered, as if someone had come up and sucker-punched me in the stomach.  She proudly looked straight ahead, not noticing my shocked face.  "O-kay," I said slowly and held onto Li'l B a little tighter.  We got to her classroom and I thought, "Alright, this is where she'll realize what is going to happen.  That her brother and I will be leaving."  But instead, she ran right in, said hello to her teacher and started playing with the toys.  Her brother also slid out of my arms and ran off.  As we were leaving, G ran up to me and said, "Bye, mommy.  I'll miss you."  And gave me a big hug.  I told her to be good, gave her a kiss, and picked Li'l B up (after prying him off of her. We both had a tough time leaving).  He and I made our way from the room and as we were started down the hall I heard G's voice yelling, "Mommy!  Mommy!"  I turned around, ready for her to come running, crying out, "Don't leave!"  But instead she had Li'l B's blanket that he had forgotten in the classroom.  "Here mommy, B forgot this and I knew he would want it."  And just like that, she turned and ran back to her classroom.  I gave Li'l B another big squeeze. 

     When we went to pick her up, I asked her teacher how she'd been.  I fretted over her not getting her way and throwing a tantrum or that she had transformed into Miss Bossy-Pants.  Her teacher told me that my Miss G was most likely going to be her special helper as she is so "motherly".  A little boy in her class was crying after his parents left and G walked over to him, attempted to put her arm around him, and sang him a song about how "grown-ups come back".  Her teacher was extremely impressed, as was I.  I've seen how she can be with her brother but to go up to a boy she just met and try to console him, my heart swelled 5 sizes with pride.  I then realized again just how grown-up she was; no longer a toddler, void of how others feel, but a little girl filled with so much compassion and a caring spirit.  She did not need me to remind her to be nice or considerate, she stepped up without hesitation, and I couldn't be more impressed. 

     Whenever we leave our little ones (pretty much) to their own devices, without us around to guide them, or hover, they're really interchangeable, we wonder, "Are they making the right choices?  Are they behaving like civilized human beings?  What have I unleashed into the world?"  Everyday, and I'm aware I've said this before, I realize that they truly are watching our example, not just listening to the words we're spitting out at them.  They are learning compassion, sincerity, leadership, grace.  I know there will be misunderstandings, tantrums, anger issues, etc., but her first day truly exceeded my expectations.  And my own actually, for I absolutely thought I would bawl like a baby.  I guess that comes when Li'l B starts school because he is the last. And you know what?  She can't wait to go back. She has asked every hour, everyday and she only goes two days a week. (I better emotionally prepare myself again...this is exhausting!) 

    

    

Mike Check, One, Two...Is This Thing On?

                                                              

                                                             
                                  Li'l B checkin' the mike. Yup! It works, sometimes.


      I know you parents/caregivers have gone through the "I may as well talk to a wall" routine.  Some days I feel like all I do is yell at my children, and by that I don't mean yelling at them because they are misbehaving, but yelling just to be  heard.  I can say, "No," until I feel like if I say it one more time, I'm going to go running and screaming from the house.  Or just speaking loudly a lot to avoid injuries from them not understanding exactly why they cannot jump from the couch onto a chair.  *Oi Vey*  And was everyone aware that we are responsible for the people these little people become, was everyone aware of that?!  The things we teach them are the things they will carry through life; it will be how they live their lives!  (Please take a moment to grab that brown paper bag with me to breathe into.  Inhale, exhale. Repeat.)  Okay, moving on, shall we?


     Everyday our little ones are learning.  And a big way they learn is by watching us.  (Yes, you constantly have eyes on you, every moment of everyday. Just a tad disturbing, isn't it?)  Always watching, always taking in how we respond to circumstances.  But another way they learn is by what we are teaching them.  Now, this is where a lot of times, I almost walk over to the same wall I feel I should be talking to, and envision ramming my head into it.  Especially with Li'l B.  Now, it's not his fault, and his big sister went through this phase, but seriously.  Don't children learn by repetition?  By this point, Li'l B should know just by me raising my eyebrows that the next word out of my mouth is going to be, "No!"  But he doesn't.  Or should I say, the little monster is testing me.  And yes, he's very, very good at it.   

      Recently, my angel of a mother kept Li'l B so that Miss G and I could have some "mommy-daughter" time.  I fretted every second of every minute of everyday because I know how he can be lately at home, or especially in a store.  I call her up to check in on how he's been.  Very cautiously I ask the question...."So.......how's he been?"  I grimace, waiting for her to say, "Maybe you should come get him, he screams constantly and I can't get any grocery shopping done."  Instead, she exclaims, "Oh, he's been great! Such a little helper and when we went to the store, he helped me push the cart."  I sat stunned.  "You are talking about Li'l B, right?"  She laughed and said, "Honey, kids are more likely to misbehave with their parents.  You did it, and now they are doing it."  I had been trying to get this kid to hold onto the grocery cart for I don't know how long and he would always scream in the store, "Mommy, hold me!"  I received looks, oh yes, those looks.  And here he goes and acts just like I wanted him to for someone else.  So, wait.  Why exactly am I upset by this?  He is behaving how I have showed him is the acceptable way to behave.  He is helping, he is not throwing tantrums.  Eureka!  He was listening this whole time!!  *Happy dance, pat myself on the back*  Score one for momma. 

     The hubby and I are also trying to instill healthy eating habits with our children.  Not a lot of sugar, no pop, snacks are fruits and their drinks are milk, water or occasionally juice.  Now yes, they do get candy from time to time or ice cream, I mean come on, we're not heartless, but there is no harm in having your child make healthy choices.  Miss G was with friends one day and they decided to stop for lunch.  Some kids had pop and asked her if she would like some.  (Warning: Proud Momma Moment ahead...) Miss G said, "No thank you.  I don't drink pop."  Wwwhhhaaatttt?!  She listened and stuck to her guns.  She ordered water.  I have always feared the Peer Pressure, especially with her because she is a "follow the crowd" type of girl already.  *sigh*  So this was a monumental moment for me in Parenting. 

     A funny story that happened just this past week was when Miss G was at Vacation Bible School with my aunts.  All the kids were singing and naturally, God was mentioned in the song.  But Miss G refused to sing.  My aunt asked her why she wasn't singing and she replied, "I'm not allowed to say that."  My aunt, puzzled, asked, "What are you not allowed to say?"  G responded, "I'm not allowed to say 'God'."  Here is why Miss G refused: One day, she did something funny and the phrase, "Oh God" slipped out of my mouth.  (I know, I am to be banished.) Well, she repeated it, naturally.  So I sat down with her and said, "Sweetie, mommy's sorry, I shouldn't have said that.  We don't say, 'God'.  You can say, 'Oh my gosh,' or 'Oh my goodness,', okay?"  She said, "Okay, mommy, I'm sorry."  And that was that.  Low and behold, she listened!  And took that lesson with her and refused to say the word that she knew she could not say.  I am still astonished by this.  And I cleared up with my family that we are not devil-worshippers or anything like that. 

     Just when you think no one is listening, just remember, they are; they really are.  The hills may have eyes (get it?  If not, it's a movie), but the Walls Have Ears.  And every now and then, they perk up, even for a moment.  So remember this; the kiddies are watching, they are listening, and they are waiting to shock the hell out of you when you least expect it.  Always be on your toes.