Watch Out, Boys
“Mommy, today a boy called me dumb.”
“Why did he call you dumb?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I was just standing in line at lunch time, talking to my friend and he told me that I was dumb.”
She continued.
“But don’t worry, I looked right at his face and said ‘OH NO YOU DI’INT!!!'”
I held back my laughter because she was dead serious.
“What did he say?”
“He just looked at me and turned his head and didn’t talk to me again. I stood up for myself, Mommy, just like you told me to! Aren’t you so proud of me?”
Oh, yes little girl of mine. Always so proud of you.
My New Tagline?
This morning I woke up and sat up in my bed. My daughter was in my room, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, combing her hair. I saw her face in the mirror and said “Good morning!”
“Mommy, you look SO pretty!” She said.
That sweet compliment from my daughter made me feel so good.
“Really?” I said.
“Yes!” She responded.
What a nice thing to hear first thing in the morning. I definitely do not feel pretty when I wake up with my puffy face and my messy hair.
She wasn’t finished with her compliment.
“You look prettier than a rat. Because you know how rats look kind of scary and evil? You definitely look prettier than a rat.”
She wasn’t trying to be funny. She wasn’t trying to be mean. She was simply stating a fact. I am prettier than an evil, scary rat.
If only every day could begin with such an awesome compliment.
Missing Her
Yesterday I watched a birthday video made for a friend of my parents. Towards the end of the video, my Grandmother appeared to give her birthday message.
Seeing her face, hearing her voice, took my breath away.
I began to cry.
I couldn’t stop crying.
And I’m crying again as I type this.
I’m going to write through it.
Writing. Crying. Crying. Writing.
I miss her.
I miss her voice, I miss her face. I miss her yelling at me. I miss her complaining about how technology is ruining the world. I miss her scolding me for not going to church. I miss her telling me I buy my daughter too many shoes. I miss calling her to ask for cooking advice. I miss her ABC soup. I miss talking to her while she knitted booties for kids in orphanages. I miss the way she used to answer the phone. I miss her telling me the story of how one time I got completely naked and ran through the sprinklers in her front yard. I miss her asking how Tony’s job was going. I miss her telling me how much my Grandpa loved me. I miss hearing her talk about how much her dad loved her.
I miss everything about her.
I’m angry that her last days on this earth were spent suffering with pain while cancer poisoned her insides. I’m angry that I didn’t know that the cancer would take her so quickly. I’m angry she suffered so greatly in her life, miscarrying twice, burying two adult children, and oh, so much more. I’m angry that her suffering would continue in the last days of her life.
Cancer? Really, God? My Grandma spent her entire life serving you, serving others. She was selfless in every sense of the word. She worked hard, every day of her life, caring for others, for a sick husband. She trusted in you, she loved you, she honored you. I never once heard her complain, NOT ONCE. She only spoke of your goodness, your mercy, your love. Even as the cancer was taking over her body and she was in obvious pain, she never once cursed your or questioned you. Well, I’m questioning you. I’m telling you that I don’t understand this “plan” my grandmother spoke. Why would you plan such an awful ending for your good and faithful servant? Help me understand.
The experience of watching my Grandmother die has changed me. One day, I’ll write about it because I need to write about it.
But for now, I need to remember her before the cancer, before she was bound to a chair and a hospital bed and a tank of oxygen.
Her kind soul.
Her loving hands.
Her beautiful voice.
Her wise words.
I don’t want to forget a single thing about her or the moments we shared while she was alive.
We’re On a Crafting Spree!
(Materials: unfinished wood frame (Michael’s $1.00) Martha Stewart Craft Paint (Holly Berry, pearl.) Painted wood accents (Michaels, .99 each.) White paint for polka dots, tacky glue.)
Friendship Rings For Valentine’s Day
Tonight me and my daughter did a few Valentine’s Day crafts.
This one found on Disney Family Fun is so simple, but so fun. I thought I’d share how Gabby’s turned out.
I bought pre-cut heart shaped foam because I am a lazy crafter.
So easy, Gabby could do it all by herself. Which of course, makes it my favorite craft ever.
What the back looks like.
Happy girl, adorable rings. Crafting WIN!
My Soul Has Been Fed
One thing I tend to do when I’m feeling low is isolate myself from friends and family. I don’t want people to see me when I’m down and my eyebrows are bushy and my roots are gray because I haven’t been taking care of myself. It’s really the worst thing I can do when I feel this way. And yet, I do it.
So, last night I made a date with a friend to meet for coffee this morning.
I had a great time catching up with her, just being out of the house. (I wish I could say “not wearing my black sweats” but I was totally wearing my black sweats. Baby steps.)
It was exactly what I needed.
When I got home, I was feeling good, better than I’ve felt in days. My daughter greeted me at the door. “Hi Mommy! There’s a surprise for you on the table.”
I walked over to the kitchen table. There was a plate of fruit with a handwritten note.
Today was a good day.
Making Me Proud Since 1993
When your kids are little, one thing you can’t help but wonder is what are they going to be when they grow up?
A teacher? A fireman? A veterinarian?
When my first born was little, I would ask him what he wanted to be when he would grow up and he always had a different answer. He never had a passion for a specific career. “He’s little. He’ll figure it out as he lives his life.” I’d tell myself.
When he was a junior in high school, he had to make up credits for failing a class. He enrolled in a criminal justice course. After week two of the class, he decided he wanted to be a police officer. Of course, that made me both proud and also kind of sick to my stomach. Such a courageous choice– to protect and serve– but one that comes with great risks. But, I was happy that my son finally had decided on a path for life after high school.
He had a plan.
And then, one day after graduation he went with a friend to the Marine Corp’s recruiting office.
The next day, he informed me that his plans had changed.
“I want to join the Marines.”
My heart sank. I tried not to panic. I told myself once he researched and talked to people who had been through boot camp, he’d change his mind!
He started going to physical training at the recruiting office every day with his friend.
One thing I’ve learned is that when you tell people that your kid wants to join the military, they tell you that you should be proud! How brave! SUPPORT THAT BRAVE SON OF YOURS! The truth is that was not my first reaction. My first reaction was “No. Not my son. Never my son.”
Over time, it became clear to me that my son wasn’t going to change his mind. In fact, he became more sure with each passing day. We had many conversations about why he wanted this for his life. He articulated “why” in a thoughtful, intelligent manner. After one particularly intense conversation, I decided that I would stop saying “not my son!” and support the hell out of him.
Earlier this month, he went to LA for two days to go to MEPS. He passed his test and the physical. He was sworn in as a Marine Reserves recruit. He’s just waiting for an official ship out date for boot camp. Yesterday, he was told it’s very likely that date will be March 19th. (But possibly as late as August.)
So, how am I feeling about his decision at this very moment?
I’m a mixed bag of emotions. I feel proud– My son is courageous and brave. I feel nervous– My son will be away for 13 weeks at boot camp where he will be challenged physically, mentally and emotionally in ways that I can’t even begin to comprehend. I know he is strong and that he is smart, but I can’t help but worry about what he will go through during those 13 week. I feel sad, I feel excited, I feel unsure, I feel SO MANY THINGS.
The other night I was sitting on the couch with my husband watching TV. During a commercial, my husband turned to me and said “can you believe our son is going to be a Marine?” I could see that he had tears in his eyes. “STOP IT.” I said. “JUST STOP IT.” We both just sort of lost it. We started to cry and talk about how quickly our first little baby grew up and remember how we used to just hold him and look at him and be in awe of him and kiss his fat little cheeks and sing to him and rock him and just LOVE OUR SWEET LITTLE BABY?
That baby is all grown up now and in a few weeks, he will be a changed man. I am looking forward to the day I can say that I am The Proud Mom of a Marine.
A Birthday Wish for Cole– Will You Help?
Last night, a friend posted a link on twitter asking for help for a special little boy in her life. I clicked on the link and read this post.
Go read it. I’ll wait.
I cried. I couldn’t stop thinking about it all night.
Today, I read that post to my daughter. As I was reading it, I started to cry again. When I was finished, I looked at my daughter. She had tears in her eyes.
A few minutes later, she handed me this.
I’ll be mailing it first thing tomorrow morning.
I hope you’ll take a few minutes to do the same and help make his last birthday the best birthday he ever had.
(Hurts to type that.)
Six. Teen.
The last time I wrote about my health I had just completed six weeks of boot camp. (One of the best things I’ve ever done for myself!) I was feeling strong, fit, capable of doing anything I put my mind to! I was on my way to my goal weight and to being my healthiest self.
I was so proud of myself, not for the weight loss, but for my dedication and hard work. For making my health– myself-– a priority.
Just after I finished up boot camp, life got a bit complicated. There was a new job with new hours that caused a shift in our daily schedules, making it difficult for me to find time for exercise. I dealt with the emotional trauma of watching my Grandmother die from Asshole Cancer. The time issue caused a grocery shopping issue which caused a Eating Too Much Fast Food Issue, which caused a Feel Like Crap and Gained Sixteen Pounds Issue.
Sixteen pounds is a lot of weight. The weight gain is evident, clothes don’t fit, my body looks different. But more importantly, and the thing that bothers me the most is how unhealthy I feel physically.
Why did I allow this to happen to myself? I have an auto-immune disease. Eating right and staying physically active are both vital to my overall well being. I know this and yet?
Sixteen pounds.
I’m struggling to rebound from this personal health set back. I feel shame for failing, for letting this happen. I know that getting back on track will be a matter of taking small, practical steps (going grocery shopping weekly, planning meals, setting a specific time to workout every day.) And yet, I feel so overwhelmed, questioning whether it’s possible to get back to that Good Place of health and happiness again.
One day at a time, I tell myself. One day at a time.