Strength in Small Voices

© John Siebert | Dreamstime Stock Photos

I am a mom.  I am one of many, in a world which is continuously moving and forever changing. Each of my children are individuals, with personalities that shine through to my heart. I cherish how each one has helped shape me into the person I am. 

The day my oldest daughter was born is etched into my soul. As I held this small, 7 lb. 1 oz. little girl, I was amazed that she was all mine. I created something so perfect. So fragile. I realized that the past was not important. It was the future that mattered. It was HER future that mattered. I was just too young to fully understand that profound epiphany. 
 

 

Your first child is your “guinea pig”, so to speak. You learn with mistakes. You struggle to make ends meet. To buy diapers, formula, and clothes.  You fight to find your sanity.  You do not handle your failures as a parent well. You do not celebrate your accomplishments when you are this young and naïve. Being a teenage mom was not a choice I ever saw myself making.  It was not the road I imagined. I wanted a life like my parents. The life I experienced growing up. Happy. Loving. Complete.
 

Lost and Found

My delusion only gave way to despair.  I was 19, married, and miserable. I continued on with a false sense of hope. A hope that I could fix my broken family.

 

When my daughter was around 2 years old, I had that moment. Her father and I were arguing. Details of the argument escape me, but what I do remember clearly is when my daughter walked into the room. Her small arms reached for me to hold her.  Her love surrounded me. Holding her comforted me.

 

As I hugged her to my hip, the sweet smell of childhood filled the air.  She looked her father in the eye and spoke the words I never had the strength to say. “You do not talk to my mommy that way!” Her words, her protection, woke me from a restless sleep. She deserved better. SHE deserved to be protected. My daughter became a child of divorce. A child with 2 homes. Two versions of life.  Two angry parents trying to survive. There is more to this chapter of my story, but that is for another time. Another place.

 

My daughter was my strength. My daughter depended on me to live. She depended on me to scare her monsters away. Her small hand clung to mine and we taught each other to walk.  One step at a time, we survived. 

 Hiding from Myself

I doubted my abilities to be a good mother. I tried every day to be what I thought a mom should be, but felt like a failure. I was an impostor in my own life. I would watch her play and try to keep her safe.  I would rock her to sleep at night. I would tuck her in and recite the childhood prayer my dad always said to me….

 

“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. Guard me safely through the night, and wake me with the morning light. Amen.”

 

During these seconds, while we recited the prayer from my youth…..everything would be a cocoon of peace and safety. Her sweet voice would whisper, along with mine, echoing the belief that tomorrow would be okay.  

 

That cocoon shattered as I would leave her room.  Only then did my tears fall.  At those moments, I was still too young and gave into my feelings of helplessness. I felt like I was in a foreign land. A place where an eternal war was raging and we were stuck in the middle. Each day was a new battle. It was just her and I against the world.  How would we get out alive and unscathed?

 

My mom stepped in during this time in our life. Without her unconditional love, devotion and stubbornness my daughter and I would have remained broken. She knew that I was struggling as a parent. She knew I was feeling weak and lost.  She loved us without ever asking any questions or for anything in return. Her selflessness allowed me to learn and slowly become the mother my daughter needed.

 

With time and experiences, you become wiser. Hardened. You feel older beyond your actual years.  The time between 18 and 21 are a blur to me. I remember stumbling. I fell at every bump. I felt like I was drowning in the unknown. Each time I faltered and started to give up, I made myself try again, for her. It was always for my daughter. 

 

I did not think I deserved to live a life outside of being a mom. I made these choices and I had to make the best of what was handed to me. I was in a different place than most of my friends.  Meeting someone was not realistic. Who would want a single mom? How could I bring a man into her life, if I wasn’t sure I deserved someone?

 Let Go & Live

I realized that I just needed to let life happen. I made smarter decisions. I had more than myself to worry about.  My daughter was prideful, stubborn and so unlike me in many ways. She welcomed anyone and everyone into her heart. One memory I have of her greeting everyone as she sat in the shopping cart at HEB. "Hi! I'm Kayla! What's your name?"  Some adults would be intimidated that a child this tiny would speak this bluntly, while others would introduce themselves and hold a conversation with her. With her acceptance of the world, her small voice helped me let go of my fears and live.

 

 My daughter was 4 when I remarried. She was 5 when we welcomed her new baby brother into the family. She was 10 when we welcomed her sister into the madness, only a family of 5 could create.  I can’t help but worry and wonder if my past decisions would affect her. That my painful memories were somehow tattooed into her mind as well.

Fast forward to the present, I still worry. I still wish that my first born did not have the heartache in her soul. I am responsible for this. Eighteen years flew by for me. It was never enough time to fix the wrongs I believed I caused her. I hope that having 16 years of stability and love from two devoted parents would make up for the 2 years that seem lost to both of us.

 

When I received her senior pictures last year, I compared them to her baby pictures. I caught small glimpses of life merging as my fingers moved through each one. In my mind, she is still that blond haired child greeting strangers from the shopping cart. This was my first born. This was my beginning. From a young age, she never failed to ask "Why?” She always wanted to know more and was never I knew many quite satisfied with "Because I said so...” years ago, that her independence and curiosity for life would lead her. I realized that she would continue this trip through life regardless of past road blocks….Regardless of my fears.  

 This is a story of strength, courage, and love. I wanted to share this because I feel my oldest child may need to see these words. This is a part of her story. Where these life moments do not define her as a whole, I am hoping it helps heal her if she is feeling pain; helps answer questions she may have; or that it may fill a void. More importantly, I am hoping it shows her that she is loved…. that she always has been….and always will be. 

 

I want to thank her for holding my hand during those early years, for showing me there is happiness in the world, and for scaring MY monsters away. I love you to the moon and back.

 

 

Just Another Day in Normal

Chauffeured both kids to school.....came back home......and sat. I'm still in my pajama pants and sweat shirt......hair shoved up into a baseball cap.......My mind going through the to-do list that never seems to end. 

·         The laundry needs to be separated. Then washed. Then folded..... I HATE FOLDING......

 

·         I have colonies of dust bunnies living in my home. Meghan always wanted a bunny....

 

·         I have not dared to venture into the kid's rooms in 3 days. I may just close their doors.

 

·         The dogs have shredded yet another pet bed, spreading a nice layer of fluff over the porch. My husband is threatening to just put out hay.......

 

·         I have a school performance in an hour. If I miss this, I am definitely not getting that mother of the year award. (OK, I need to stop kidding myself....that award went out the window with the 2nd kid.)

 

·         To shower or not to shower, that is the question.

 

·         A dentist appointment is set for this afternoon. I wonder what they will find wrong THIS time. And how much it'll cost me.

 

 

• Have I brushed my teeth???

 

•    I need to finish a few articles that are half finished........ that will have to wait until tonight once kids are  in  bed.....if I don't fall asleep first.

 

·         Tomorrow is a school holiday, so at least I won't have to drive anyone to school........ 

 

 

·         What?! Monday is a holiday too? Oh good lord, who do I send my complaint to?!

 

·         Husband is working late........cereal sounds like an awesome choice for dinner.

       (Note to self: this may be part of the reason you dropped out of the mother of the year race.)

 

 

·         Am I the only one who sees the crap sitting on the stairs? Apparently......

 

 

 

·          A cookie is breakfast food.....Yes, I think so.

 

·         Where's my caffeine?......Wait..... Do we have any?! Call 9-1-1!!!!

 

With so many thoughts rambling through my head, I wonder how other parents deal with their “normal”? How do they keep it all straight? How can one person keep everything together, perfectly planned to ensure every one's happiness and avoid a meltdown? Mostly my meltdown.....

 

I am not delusional. I know other parents feel the strain of the everyday routine. But when you are by yourself sitting in your kitchen, it seems that you are alone, sinking in a world of chaos.

 

 

 In weak moments, my checklist is enough to make me cry. At these moments, I  wonder about the families' that deal with more serious matters.  How do they cope?

 

What are some of your coping mechanisms when you have "just another day in normal"?

 

Share your story (or stories) of a crazy day that would send any normal person running for the hills.

 

Leave your solutions and stories in the comments or email me directly!

 

 

 

No Pizza Delivery??!! (Part 2)

Author's Note: If you missed Part 1, please see post from Monday 2/3/2014 & catch up!

I was thirty-three, when I eagerly walked through that bright, shiny door in the Texas Hill Country. On the other side I found myself on unfamiliar terrain. With relocating the family to a new area, we knowingly added more stress to our lives. I believed I was prepared for the aftermath.

 My comfort zone from my old neighborhood was gone. My newest neighbors were donkeys.....literally. My 10 mile work commute increased to 90 miles a day. Our children had to adjust and make new friends. Living outside the city limits, caused challenges with finding kid’s activities that worked with our schedules. Even driving to the grocery store triggered anxiety at times.  There were scorpions hiding in my clothes hamper and I was paranoid of snakes.  I had given myself whiplash to save deer, fox, and the occasional skunk. I had locked eyes with stubborn peacocks and contemplated how much damage a bird could actually do to my car. Apparently nature does not bring out my best side.

 

Dead Ends

All of this triggered confusion. As you have probably guessed, pizza delivery was a small speck when compared to everything else. Our family's goals had not altered from what they were before we moved. Our children, our jobs, and ensuring a safe and loving home were still our priority. Why would a different zip code affect me so much? 

 Everything I was doing seemed wrong. Every accomplishment was short-lived in my mind. I thrived and had great successes at my job, being promoted and sealing work relationships that helped me thrive. However, these achievements were never enough.  I felt empty and defeated.  My 30’s seemed to collapse on top of me. I had a fear of being viewed as weak or selfish. I feared failure.

My husband’s advice to slow down, fell on deaf ears.  How could anything wait until tomorrow? Do you know how bad a lunchbox smells if it is not properly wiped out? How would life keep going if I was not able to get the kids to practice on time, if the house was not clean, or if one of them forgot their fundraiser paperwork at home? I could not separate my stress at work from my life at home. It followed me. It consumed me. (Have I mentioned that my husband is patient?) 

For the next few years, I continued my journey through the chaos of life. I had my good days. I had plenty of bad ones too. I left my job in the city and worked closer to home, thinking it would be the game changer.  I adjusted, but never felt like it was a good fit. Around this time, I realized that I was forcing myself to live a dream and accomplish goals that were not mine.  Out of the necessity to survive and the fear of the unknown, I had morphed my dreams into ones that required no risk.

 

Tug-a-War: Me vs. Life

I struggled with my private battle while I cheered on at baseball games. I fought with it as I cried tears of joy at dance recitals.  I hid it behind my pride, as my oldest walked the stage and received her high school diploma. I camouflaged it by changing jobs (again), thinking I needed simplicity. 

Life moved forward. It was going to – with or without me.  Either I could run away from home and start over in some foreign country………..or step up and start really LIVING my life.

After several discussions, with my very tolerant husband, I left my job. For the first time in twenty years, I had no specific plan. No plan at all. This caused moments of panic for someone like me, but I was fortunate to have a support system to remind me..... I could only go forward. 

I am not delusional. I know this journey will not be an easy one. You see, I am and will always be a Type-A Perfectionist. I still have moments of impatience........ but I remember to laugh more at those times. I still have not accepted the reason for a scorpion’s existence…… but my aim has improved.  I am still disgruntled about not having pizza delivery, but have embraced the frozen and homemade variety for convenience. I still have fears....... but I no longer let those fears define who I am.

 

 

 

No pizza delivery?!?! (Part 1)

When standing in a line, whether at the grocery store or Target, I often observe people. How they react to the wait speaks volumes. Many people show impatience, sighing loudly or snapping at their children. Some people just calmly stand and enjoy the downtime, smiling politely and nodding when they catch my eye.  Others turn and leave, not wanting to bother with the headache.

 

Then I wonder how others view me? Who am I, to a perfect stranger? This question prompted me to look at myself a little closer. I strongly feel my thirties have not been my finest decade, so I wanted to share a few of my experiences and see if this is common with others. If not, it’s ok to fib for my benefit. J

My personality is not unique, although a beginner’s manual on how to utilize my traits would have helped. Like everyone though, I learned through trial and error. (Emphasis on error.)  As a young girl I was shy, polite and always tried to please people. On the flip side, I hated to admit guilt, expected instant gratification, and lacked patience. Was this all due to me being an only child? Or was it my Type-A genetic makeup?   

While in my 20’s I focused on the kids, my job, and my family. I always charged full steam ahead. I did what was expected of me and basked in the praise of doing well. We planned and had our last two children before I turned thirty. We bought my childhood home and we lived happily.  Raising our children there was comfortable.  I loved that my best friend and her family lived across the street. Neighbors I had known for years surrounded us. Sounds picturesque, right?

Unfortunately, our children’s needs outweighed the perks.  We were not happy with the school district and new developments in the area. This started the ball rolling and triggered our plan to move. Craig was practical and patient. (My polar opposite.) We discussed where we wanted to live and he created a 5 year plan. I was on board, but patience is not in my gene pool either. So, his 5 year plan surprisingly became our 1 year plan.  I was caught up in the excitement and loved the idea of change to better my kid’s future. Unfortunately, I failed to recognize and admit the obvious. My comfort zone was going to disappear.

A month after our move, a very small detail pushed me to admit I was teetering on the edge. I was sitting in my car, at the only gas station within a 10 mile radius.  I was not filling gas or buying a winning lottery ticket, like normal people.  I was waiting for pizza to be delivered. To a city girl, the lack of pizza delivery service is a detail that should have been disclosed when we bought our land. (And yes, over reacting when stressed is another trait I will admit to ….)

In all seriousness though, I was a bit freaked out that something so trivial (as pizza delivery) had me questioning my life.

Part 2……coming soon.