Walking the Plank....Take 2!

Little moments in life are cherished. First steps, first words, the first loose tooth. These milestones are ones we gladly mark down in baby books or record on film.  With each of my children, I hold onto these fading memories and mourn their passing. Before we are ready, those sweet moments are overshadowed with ones that make us cry and cringe.

 Having College Child, Middle-Child and Diva Child 5 years apart, gave my husband and me a breather. Over a year ago, we completed our first teenage voyage. We visited hell and thankfully made it back. I don’t recommend this trip, but I know it is inevitable in the vicious cycle of parenting.

I do not want to make this trip again. I keep trying to refund my tickets, but I find that no one wants them and sadly I don’t blame them. The ulcers are about healed….but now the next kid is up to bat and we are going to be yanked back out into the game.  And there will be another to follow that one.

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The Middle Child is taking a course, through his school, called “Worth the Wait”. Between this  and Diva Child questioning comments from pharmaceutical commercials, I feel like I'm walking the plank. I guarantee that  shark infested waters are safer than the questions about hormones and the facts of life. 

 

Finding the Humor

The other day, I picked my son up from school.

Me: “So, how was your day?”

Middle Child:  “Good.”

Me: “Do you have homework?”…..hopeful for more than the one syllable answer.

Middle Child: “No, but today we had to go to the Library with the other class and learn about STD’s, AIDS, and Herpes. Did you know you could die from Stage 4 Herpes?”

Me: Silence……as I dig in my bag of tricks to find a proper response…….I confess that I would have been happy with a one syllable answer. (It’s called denial and wonder why these conversations ALWAYS occur while I am driving.)

Middle Child: "I also failed 2 assignments because I did not finish on time. We had three days, but I did not get it done."

Me: "What were the assignments?"

Middle Child: "We had glue the body parts on Male and Female Anatomy diagrams."

Me:  Silence.....Thinking to myself...the female anatomy will always be a mystery to you, bud.

 

The kicker to all of  this is, he earned a 69 on both assignments.  I literally laughed till I cried. Yep…….quite comical, right?! Finding the humor in the beginning of this long road will help me.  I learned this the first time around.

 

Marking Your Territory

With my son, I find that I am the territorial one. Whereas, with our daughter, it was my husband. I honestly thought he would “mark his territory” to prevent the boys from invading.

Now, I find my husband giving our Middle Child high five’s and smiling like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. It is a little unsettling how the double-standard is alive and well in our home.

As the mother of a boy, I still see him as my baby…..my 1 and ONLY male child. He is very precious to me and I feel I should interview any little girl that crosses his path. My husband thinks this is a bad idea, but I am currently constructing a questionnaire. God help the woman who breaks his heart.

 

Face Reality.....it'll be here before you know it.

Watching my children grow up is intriguing, heartbreaking, and downright exhausting.  They are faced with adult decisions way too early.

All I can do is be honest, welcoming, and open to anything they need to discuss……after they pour me a glass of wine.

The Pen & Paper Side: There is No Magic Left in My Kingdom

I am not a person that reads the news every day. Of course, I lightly glance at the headlines and get updated on the current events. But sadly, I find it easier to not dwell on the reality that is playing on the morning news, the radio, or the colorful headlines that flash across our homepages.

I was given the assignment of creating a poem based on a current news article.  Typical me, I skipped over pieces regarding war and politics. My attention was drawn to a small title, snuggled below the flashy pictures of the major headlines.  I clicked on the link, In Disney's shadow, homeless families struggle. Everyone loves this magical place and it confused me why families would struggle there. I needed to know more.

As I read the piece, I felt disillusioned. I never associated the Happiest Place on Earth with homelessness. Of course, I see it on our street corners every day, but a person’s mind plays tricks. It covers up the truth and allows us to keep blinders on.  As I kept reading, I felt the urge to tell a story of how all things magical are not always what they appear to be.

 

There is No Magic Left in My Kingdom

 

Smashed in the backseat, between my sisters,

I dream of magical creatures, princesses and roller coaster rides.

My sisters say I’m silly and that I don’t understand.

I tell them to shut up and ward them off with my small 8 year old stare,

A quiet scolding comes from the front, my head then turns to meet my mother’s gaze.

 

Mom and Dad whisper, a quiet mummer that I cannot make out.

I know it’s never good when their whispers somehow reduce the hope that once filled their hearts.

My Dad’s smile stopped reaching his eyes a few weeks ago.

This was when I was told we were leaving the only home I’ve ever known.

I was sad, lonely even…until they told me we would live close to the Magic Kingdom.

 

My magical dreams carry me to our first stop.

A small motel on the side of a road my dad calls U.S 192.

My sisters grumble, I push my way past and unload my small suitcase from the back.

It’s like a vacation I tell them, it’ll be fun.

They don’t believe me, I can see it in the way they avoid my stare.

 

Four weeks have flown by, as we load back up the car.

I still have not seen the castle that I read about in my books.  

I sit in the same spot I sat only a month before, squashed between them, but this time I understand.

Understanding because my sisters no longer make fun of me, they realize I see a glimpse of our reality.

My parents look tired and their smiles are few and far between.

 

Our new place has a view…of the parking lot that holds buses that take others to the kingdom.

I sit and stare and wonder how I can sneak aboard, just one time is all I need.

Our belongings have piled around, but I make sure my view is not blocked.

I make sure of this because it’s the only hope around.

I continue to draw to keep my young brain busy, as my mama likes to say.

 

Dad is gone for long hours and never seems to find what he goes out to search for.

Mom cries at night, behind the peeling bathroom door.

I can hear my dad, always whispering…..that we will be ok.

My sisters disappear for long periods at a time and I feel uncertain of tomorrow.

I am scared that there is no longer any magic left here to find, as I sit alone and wait for another move. 

 

Enjoying the View

In my past life, visits to the park were something I only read about. Other parents would spend meaningful, quality time pushing their kiddos on swings and chatting with other moms, forging relationships and allowing their children to soak in some Vitamin D. I never ventured to that side of mom-hood. Since I worked, I found it quite easy to brush off requests due to limited hours of daylight, school activities, sport activities, and just because I was too freaking tired.

Also, with living in BFE, we do not have a community park. This meant the closest one was 30 minutes away. With that being said, I had to admit that I was now in a position to fulfill such desires. Since I have the honor of spending all my waking moments catering to my lovely household and their demands, I acknowledged Diva Child’s request and headed to the park.

Granted, we had a time limit of 45 minutes….but I felt that baby steps were in order.

Before I even parked the car, I was rewarded with the biggest smile and a chattering that did not stop for another 4 hours. She led me to the big kid’s area and I went to park my rear on a shaded bench. Between timing how long she spun on a spinning disc contraption and watching her scale a rope wall, I decided that this wasn’t so bad. I could handle this park thing. No biggie.

That was until she requested my presence on the other end of a teeter-totter. Laughing, I suggested that she might need to find a person 30 years my junior…….and maybe a few pounds lighter. She said no, she wanted ME on the other end of this daunting piece of equipment.

 Needless to say, I climbed on……knowing this would not be a boost to my self-esteem and I should not have had that cookie at lunch…….or eaten anything……EVER.

With my daughter laughing, as she was lifted towards the sky, I realized that I do this every day. I teeter between life, motherhood, supporting my husband, starting a writing career, strengthening friendships, being an attentive daughter, and trying to be an individual…….all at the same time.

My writing ideas don’t conveniently arrive when I am on the up side, they happen when I am sitting on the nasty playground sand, staring up at my life. They sneak in when I am gripping the handle trying not to sink in whatever is below.  

I enjoy seeing Diva Child laugh. I find peace with her amazement of simply….just playing.  As a mom, I am teetering all the time.  I try so hard to keep my kids on the upside, where they can enjoy the sunshine and laughter in life. I am accustomed to sitting below watching and being prepared to catch them if they fall. There are times when I want to desperately climb up into their seat and soak in the freedom. But who will balance them if I do this?

Life is a giant teeter-totter, where I try to find my balance. Some days are harder than others. Some days, I barely remember if I ever stopped teetering. But in between, I know there will be more Park Days and those passing moments that consist of pure happiness.

I realize that I am enchanted with the view of what balances me. Whether it’s a toothy smile, mounds of writing, or mountains of dirty clothes……I know I am not ready to get off.

I think I’ll continue to enjoy my view and keep teetering.

 

Spring Cleaning

I shift through the cobwebs of my thoughts. Sticky, jumbled and convoluted…..each one holds a memory. Some light, easy to store. Many are dark and heavy and unwelcome. Untangling intruders is complicated. Once I free them from their confinement, I quickly move forward. Never looking back to see where they fall.  

 

 I have no excuses for hoarding the heavy baggage that only served as a magnet. Pulling in unwelcome sadness, contempt, and self-pity. 

 

How long can one walk in silence before surrendering? Waving that pristine, white flag seems like an easier option. I find myself turning emotions on and off, like a radio dial. Pleasing others. Saluting the masses. These spear-like vices saw away at the bitterness that seems to hold tight.

 

 

Let the Sticky, Yucky Crap Go

With the new found space, I discover my craving for solace and contentment. Balance is essential. However, a road map to peace does not exist. A destination that erases all reality is only a fantasy.

Walking around in life, I am alone in the middle of a muted, grey storm. The wind carries hints of sadness and hopelessness, grazing my skin. Urging me to move on. I can’t resist watching each of my emotions crash into me, much like waves colliding against protruding rocks at the shore.



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With each step, I listen. My bruised, bare feet feel numb as I travel the haggard terrain. My steps echoing a harshness straight through to my soul. Spear-like vices sawing away at the bitterness that seems to hold tight. 

 I resist the urge to stop. Gathering strength to see and feel all my emotions is consuming me, yet I continue to place one foot in front of the other.

 

 Realizing the storm will lift when I take control...

 I turn up my tear soaked face, allowing nature to dry my tears. Turning my view inward, I recognize my destination. It is my today, my tomorrow and my forever that I have misplaced.

It is clear. I must accept what I have been fighting so hard against. My map is for me to create. For no one has the same destiny.

 

 

 

 

All Because of the Hair......

In January of this year, I met Katie Mehnert at MOMCOM 2014.  I commented on her hair and our conversation flowed from there.
Ironically, we found out that our husbands work for the same company, we both loved writing and we are busy moms.

An instant friendship was made........all because of the hair.

I reached out to her after the conference and began reading her blog, Pace : Life is a Marathon. She offered encouragement and advice that I quickly gobbled up. I am not sure how I can ever repay her. A thousand thank you's will never be enough.

When she reached out and asked me to share some of my story with her readers, I could not turn this opportunity down. It is my honor to be a guest blogger on her Remarkable Women Series.

Please take a look my first-ever Guest Blog piece:
Unlocking My Dreams in BFE.

Take a moment after reading to comment, share, post, email......or whatever you can do to help me celebrate!!

 

Just Writing......The Unknown

This week has greeted me with a bang. I stumbled through day one and know more experiences are ahead. I am busy playing chauffer, travel agent, and house keeper but I can never deny my urge to write. So, as I sit waiting for one of my children to finish with their day, I thought I'd share with you some of my free-writing.  Next week, I will have some more surprises for you! Keep posted.

The Unknown

 

The comfort of his old t-shirt, tattered and thin attempts to soothe out the wrinkles caused from the day.  Fighting my focus and battling the awareness of my beginnings. Frazzled thoughts and twinges of yearning seem to collide as a thunderstorm of chaos.

 

A greed nestled so deep astounds me and is why I cannot sleep.  Wrapping the blanket around me I venture outside, maybe gripping it a little too tight. A second skin yielding protection from the chill in my heart and the effects of the night. The swing creaks with each pass, as I push on. Crisp air stings my face and I stop.  Eyes closed, facing the brightness of the moon. Denying it the confession it already knows.  

Scents of the night pass. Lavender, rosemary, and the scent of his cologne. Causing a whirlwind of reminders, one can never forget. A road less traveled, awaits on the other side of dawn. A mystery of curves and turns will lead into the unknown.  

Leaves whisper as they scatter around this resting spot. Crickets sing in sweet harmony. A tempo of melodies, tempos, and a tune only nature can produce. A song of my own, touches a secret place and causes a yearning of home. 

 

A silence rests as the wind takes a break. A silence defining a true meaning of wistfulness. An attempt to live on, when one has left.  

 

The Gift Series - Our Dance (Thank you #4)

Author's Note:

This is the 4th & final story in this series.
 If you missed the earlier posts, please take a look back at  The Shoes and Life Deserves to be Lived, & No DNA Required

****

 

I will start out by being brutally honest…..It’s not easy to be married to me. I admit that and own it. At times, I act truly spoiled. I still pout when I get upset and I bet, if I tried, I could throw an Earth-shattering temper tantrum.  Even though at my age, I would probably pull something and need medical attention. My husband claims that there are other admiring aspects of my personality that overshadow my only child tendencies. Who am I to argue? 

When I met the man, I now call my husband, I was on the verge of being on my own again. I had just left an abusive relationship and had a child. Needless to say, he had no idea what he was stepping into. Fortunately, he has never ran away and for that I am forever grateful. He has always accepted my life, my past and has stood proudly by my side.

 
Here is our story and how a single dance can lead you to the love of your life.

 

 

Our Dance 

Others circled,

But all I saw was you.

Looking at me with

Curiosity.

I gladly let you lead.

Stepping swiftly….

Two leaves testing the breeze.  

You had a plan.

And tempted me with your smile.

The touch of your hand.

A tender plea,

To dance another. 

I followed you afterwards,

Your group merging with mine.

My hand still in yours, we didn’t care of the time.

 At our goodbye, you attempted a kiss….

But all I gave was my cheek.

I didn’t think I’d hear from you

Because of this.  

Time passed and we grew.

Dancing around with

“I LIKE you” and “I want you, too.”

Neither knowing the right time.

Both afraid of nothing in return.

Until one day,

Dancing as we do

you had the courage first...

to whisper,

“I love you.”

Leading me through laughter

And a softness I had never known.

Drawing me closer.

Tender moments of grace given.

We have been steadily increasing momentum

 Since that New Year’s Day. 

The gentle placement of your hand

On the small of my back

Filled an empty spot in my heart

That I never realized I lacked.  

Confidence and strength

Shown with each step.

Keeping up with the tempo

Of life is easy to do,

 When I am with you.  

Our dance has led us through 16 years.

Some painfully fast but most comfortably slow.

The way we still move as one

Gliding through our day to day.

 

Holding hands,

Always equal.

For you taught me to be

Confident and strong.

 

I am always amazed

This journey began

With only a simple song.

A dance is what brought me to you.

A simple melody, a casual glance,

Helped build our life.

Without your heart,

I would have never learned to truly dance.

 

****

 

As I planned the Gift Series, I had written numerous stories about people that have, in one way or another, made me a better person.  Having to choose which stories I posted was difficult, but I hope to share others with you soon. This experience had been eye-opening and a great experience. Thank you for allowing me to share these with you.