Post Christmas blog stalking

Hi, my name is J, and I blog stalk people. There I said it, and now you know. I go online everyday to check out what my family, friends, and other folk are doing on Facebook every day but once a week I go to Blogger and check it out to see if there are any new blogs. I average a blog entrance every 3 to 6 weeks myself, because I don't feel there is anything going on to blog about in my life. I prefer not to share every boring thought that flits through my mind and trust me, they are so boring they are deadly. But I adore checking out blogging of those I love because to me, their thoughts are fascinating. It's particularly fun to check out Donna's friends blogs because Donna has a particularly entertaining group of friends. The are truly a very witty and articulate group. And since they are digital natives, their blog sites are updated with a new look every so often and they post photos to accompany their blogs.

That's my favorite part, it adds such a wonderful visual aid to what they are blogging about. I treasure the antics of Tiffany and her grandma, the musings of Lauren and Michelle, the insights of Pear, the sheer beauty of Heather P's photos, and Allie's playfulness. These girls are all very delightful in their own unique way. They make me feel old and young at the same time and appreciate that our children have grown into thoughtful, sweet, and incredible young women.

So forgive me if I stalk you, I'm not a creeper, I just love laughing and pondering at the wonderful thoughts you all share from your hearts.

Brava, ladies! Keep the blogs coming.

This blog bears witness

To a claim that my daughter Jo has made.  I just had to put this down for posterity (12/8/09) for when I can prove she actually said this and meant it.

We were having a discussion about her work (at Macy's) and how it's cemented her distaste for children.  She wants to have her own, she just can't stand other people's kids.  Anyway, apparently there was this devil's spawn that was causing an issue and at the end of it I said, if I was the child's mother I would have taken her to the closest bathroom and paddled her bottom. You can't do that Mom, it's different now.  I said, even when I have grandkids, if a spanking is necessary in public, I'll do what I did when they were little and take them to the bathroom or the car and swat them.

Oh, it won't be necessary to do that with my kids, they won't be like that.  Oh ya, the clock is ticking.  The only way she is getting out of this is if she never has kids.

So, we'll see faithful reader, and you know, I'm patient, I'm her mama.  

Here I am again

Sometime I feel like I live my life in the same pattern over and over again.  Not a rut exactly, it's not the same every day like if it's Tuesday it's meatloaf (although there are some in my family who would enjoy that particular rut!)  It's more like, wow, really, am I doing this again?

I thought I was over the getting my feelings hurt when people try to "gently" tell me things that they feel they need to.  I feel misunderstood and insulted because, well...that is simply not how I see it.  I guess I just invest too much of my heart in people or maybe I'm just way too sensitive for my own good, I dunno.

I just wish that things would stop changing so rapidly, you know?  So I could get my head wrapped around things, then they happen instead of the constant S-pattern I live my life in, dodging the boulders in the road that appear out of nowhere.

Can't people just accept the fact that I love them and I want to know what is going on with them because it truly interests me not because I'm being nosy.  I'm not trying to get all up in their business, not idle curiosity, I want to know because I want to share their life.  I want to be involved not a peeping tom.

Someday, in the not so far future, I will be wanted again.  And whether it's idiocy or faulty memory, I'll allow them to suck me in again, just to be tossed aside when they no longer have need of me, like a pair of old shoes. 

All I know is that when you are those old shoes in the back of the closet, waiting to be taken out and hittin' the road again, it's awfully dark and lonely.  You fondly remember the times when you were out and about and hope those times come again soon.

This program was brought to you by Self Pity, Inc., makers of Whine and Complain

Didn't see this coming

Donna and Aaron are home for their first visit since moving out. If you notice I use the words visit and home in the same sentence. How do you visit your home? It's like an oxymoron, picked apart it doesn't make any sense why they are together. Because this is their home, and yet it isn't.

I'm having a tough time with this weirdness this morning. Two of the people I love the most are sleeping on the couches right now like refugees instead of their bed in their bedroom across the hall from me. It's been a while since I've felt palpably upset that they are all moved out and on their own.

I gotta say that I am a smidge bitter that of all of the parents of the multiple couples that married this summer, we are the only ones that don't get to have the opportunity to make easy plans to see our lovebirds on a whim or even easily. It's like a military campaign-okay men, let's synchronize our watches...now!

But I am grateful that they are down here, even though they are still sleeping from their evening of shenanigans and tomfoolery with their friends. That sounds more craven that it actually is, their group has a tendency to be sillier rather than worldly.

Heather Pepin (nee Ozuna) said it best, (and I paraphrase) the Lord is not through with me yet. He is still ever stretching me, molding me, and making me grow. Mainly because, if left to my own devices, I'll sit here like a lump, hiding under a blanket, happy with my status quo and fearful to stick a big toe out into the cold cruel world. My mother taught me in action and attitude rather than word that if you don't go looking for trouble, it may find you but it takes long and it needs to find a map first to get there.

I know that's not true and God is waiting for me to look up and take claim to His promises and enjoy the gifts that He has to offer me. I only have to flip that blanket back and take the first step. So no more feeling sorry for what I don't have, but be happy for what I do.

They are here and they are spending the whole day with me until they have to go home tonight to get ready for work tomorrow. And we will be together for Thanksgiving and Christmas as well this year. We will be making presents together for others and...well, let's just say we have plans.

Thank you Father, I'm here in my "home" visiting You for the moment. But soon I'll go back to where I dwell most of the time, in mine. I like yours better, Daddy.

I must be weird

It has been a week since Donna and Aaron have moved out and I haven't shed a single tear in two days. In fact, I walked into their old bedroom and instead of ghosts of them, I saw possibilities of how I could set up the room to better serve my needs.

Does this make me a bad Mom or just resilient? It's not that I don't miss them, I do, terribly! I guess it must be that to continue to mourn their leaving is just as harmful to me as it is for them. I am still sad when there is something I want to tell her and she's not there. I'm not sure when it is appropriate to call or text anymore since I don't know her work schedule and I don't want to wake her. We'll get into a rhythm soon (hopefully) and it won't be so hard, but for now, it feels like being in limbo or walking on sand, the footing is definitely not secure.

Anyway, just thought I'd report this, I guess to make it more real to me.

Tears

It didn’t really hit me until I came home and walked in the door. Their rooms are so empty. I've woke up in the middle of the night knowing my life will profoundly, never be the same. I know you understand the relationship that Donna and I have. You share one the same with Heather, Cyndi.

They are not just our children, they are that first one, that first child. The one who made you understand, come to a revelation that there was someone in this world that you would do anything for to make sure their safety was ensured. The one that made you grow up suddenly and become a lioness and a bear for them. They taught you a love so fierce that it’s indescribable. Once you had them, you knew that your life would profoundly, never be same. They paved the way for the other children, they were that little, helpless being that made you feel such joy, just holding their tiny little bodies in your arms, that you thought you might pass out from it. And each one after that, you knew just how precious they would be to you.

So how do I reconcile my nights and days now? How do I get up in the morning knowing that I'm...I've had literally 4 or 5 words come to mind and they are all inadequate to describe just of what little use I am in her life now. She has to be left alone to become the woman she is meant to be. She is not an experiment to poke, tweak, or adjust so that she is continued to be molded into what I believe she should become. She has to walk this part of the journey apart from me in order for her to solidify into a fully functioning adult, capable of handling all that life throws at her.

Don't get me wrong, she is ready for this, I'm not. I'm not ready to let her go! I accept in my head that I have to, I really don't have a choice in it. But my heart, that traitorous, self indulgent thing, it just refuses to accept that fact. It finds new ways to make me weep and mourn my new status as a bit player in Donna's life.

Right now, I understand why cutters cut themselves. At least then I would have physical pain to focus on right now. That I could channel this ache in my heart into a tangible thing that I could nurse and eventually heal from. I'm way to chicken to ever do it, it wouldn't solve anything. I know that I am a realist and will eventually pull up my mental socks and keep on trudging until I can get over this.

But right now, right now I have the biggest, dullest jagged knife in my heart. That twists and twists, bringing with it new shocks of pain and sorrow with every twist. Bottomless wells of tears slide down my cheeks, and the pain just does not dull. I'm sure it will, I've had more than enough experience with heartache to know that I will be able to move on. That God and time will help to heal my soul.

Now, here in this seemingly endless hour of self pity and despair, it feels like it will never end.

Nearly half way there

Praise the Lord, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost! So far, so good. They made it to Bonnie's last night and were in bed by 9:30 pm. I just got a call and they had a good night's sleep and going out to breakfast with Bonnie before they take off for Oklahoma. So they will have a warm meal and a good beginning before they take off. The ride is much shorter today and at the end, they will stop at Bonnie's for another night of rest before they take off again on Saturday morning. That means, if all goes well, they should be home very early on Sunday.

My head says relax, but my heart says they're not home yet. Plenty of things could still happen. But at least I'm not nearly as anxious as I was before. This is the part of being a parent that is so difficult for me. I know they are not children anymore and I was on my own, mostly, at this age. At some point I have to trust that they are smart enough (they are) to figure things out and that I've imparted enough of my wisdom and paranoia to evade most dangers.

That leaves me with trusting that God has more for my girls to do on this earth. That He's not quite ready to bring them home. Some Christians have a disdain for those who don't fall in line with the idea of, if the person who died is saved, why are you sad and not rejoicing? My personal belief is that God does not expect you to be happy that your loved one is dead. I believe He knows that you cannot help but be monumentally upset at your loss and that the idea that that person is now with Jesus is something that comforts the mourner. In other words, the one true blessed thing out of their loved one being gone. But to not mourn their passing at all, inconceivable! The most callous remark I ever received was from (not current) my pastor's mom. She, in one of those flippant and dismissive tones remarked, "She's better off now, she's with Jesus!" As if I should snap out of my loss and that mourning my mom (who had passed merely 5 days before at the age of 61) was utterly ridiculous. As you can see, it still burns and stings 16 years later. I don't know if she realized just how flip she was at the time or how it was almost like a physical blow when she said it to a new relatively new Christian. But it has always stuck with me, obviously, and you can bet that I'm very careful when and if I say it to anyone who has just lost their loved one.

I have plenty of faith, and if you know me at all, you know that much is true. Faith that my whole belief system is true and I rarely question it's validity. But my faith that God will stop others evil just to save me grief, ummm...not so strong. I'm a good portion of Irish, bad things like rain in Seattle, it's gonna fall, it's just a matter of when and how much. I have total trust that He will see me through my trials, but there will be trials and plenty of them.

I hope and pray that God knows that my children are one of those things that the loss of would be the end of me. I don't think I'd renounce God (never say never) but I think I'd certainly be a very bitter person, or just check out entirely until it was my time to go.

Anyway, I know the enemy is preying on my ultimate fear, and that to allow him that much power is foolish and playing right into his hands. All of this is true, except while wallowing in my fear I also cry out to my God and Savior, the Lifters of my spirit and the Protectors of my girls. I continuously throughout the day pray for their safety and to help me to be strengthened by Their might and not rely on my own. For They are the true power and by seeking Them, and only Them, will I find any kind of relief from my worries.

Praise Jesus that we have Him to run to for safety and and comfort, all else is a weak imitation, unreliable at best.