With the end of the school year approaching, books, projects, and yes pet beetles are coming home every day in my son's backpack. I have updated his school scrapbook with various things throughout the year, but the end of the school year brings many additions at once. Last night, I worked on adding these additions to the now overflowing scrapbook. I started flipping through, back to the beginning...
I looked at his pre-school art work. There is a difference between his 3 year old and 4 year old projects. I can tell by looking at them which year they were--although I did mark the backs too. I smiled as I remembered things about pre-school. I can do it, Mommy, he would say when he started using scissors. He'd proudly put his school drawing on the fridge, he would sometimes get upset when they were gone. I had to explain to him that the fridge can't possibly hold everything he does. That's why we send some to family, I told him. That's why mommy has a big scrap book, I thought. Our first trick-or-treat once he started school was full of much older kids yelling across the street, Hey, Gabriel, Hi Gabriel, or walking by us with hi-fives for Gabriel, and girls, older girls, smiling. I was flabbergasted.
Kindergarten seems much more grown up, making of books, the addition of actually writing his own name legibly, a full day of school. I remembered his first day of school, I remembered trying to find tie shoes for his small feet. I remember trying to explain to his teacher that he wouldn't tie his shoes by the deadline because he just got them. We started reading a lot more, I never colored and played with play doh so often. Mom, (no longer Mommy) I worked so hard today at school, I need a drink and the remote for cartoons. Mom, you just don't know how hard it is with all this work we do each day. There are so many different lessons. Together we picked out what projects would get mailed and to whom. He started understanding things only stayed on the fridge for a few weeks or months, depending. I remember when he graduated from Kindergarten, he was so proud as he held up his paper certificate.
The first day of 1st grade I cried, much to everyone's dismay, as I didn't cry for Kindergarten. I think it was the uniform, seeing your little baby in chino pants, polo shirt, a belt, and dress shoes with a backpack as big as him, well anyone with half a heart would cry too. He is now reading the 2nd Harry Potter book on his own, whizzing through his math flashcards, he gets upset on days he can't take speed tests at school, he argues logically--- much to my dismay. I am certain my mom prayed for this to happen. I find myself explaining things to him probably more than I should. Last week, he informed me he really was old enough to ride his bike around the block alone, and that, well, I'd have to just accept it. I know you don't want to, mom, but it's true, he said. He put his own speed tests on the fridge. I designated a spot for them. At the grocery store last week, a woman approached me and said, excuse me, you are Gabriel's mom, right? I said yes. She said he's just the most adorable sweetest kid.
You see the thing about parenthood is that it doesn't come with a syllabus. You get a generic form of what to expect from books, you get advice from friends, who have been there done that, you get a list of school supplies each Fall. You are left to figure the rest out on your own. I know I have made mistakes, I have lost my temper when I shouldn't have, I have sometimes not put my foot down because I was too tired for the crabbiness that would follow. But I know I have done a lot of things right too. I know because my son is happy, healthy, and smart.
...and now he's going to be in 2nd grade. When did that happen??
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Monday, May 30, 2011
Some Gave All
During a break from a grad class years ago, I walked into the bathroom to find a classmate in a black suit crying over the sink. The black suit didn't necessarily mean anything, most of us came from work. It was the tears. I asked her what was wrong, could I help? She confided in me that her cousin had been killed in service and she had come from calling hours. Her cousin, it turned out, was a Marine. At this time my cousin was serving in Afghanistan, a Marine as well. Suddenly, that seemed very real. Her cousin's funeral, along with many others from his unit, would be picketed by anti-war protesters. I don't always agree with politics, or policies, or wars, but I always support our military men and women, who allow us to continue to benefit from the freedoms we take for granted, like freedom of speech. Somehow, I can't help but think there is a special place in hell for those who protest a funeral. Even though they have freedom of speech, there is such a thing as decency, respect, and empathy.
Years later, I was on a flight to Atlanta for work. When we landed, the pilot announced there would be a slight delay as the plane had carried home a fallen soldier, and he would depart the flight first. There was complete silence. I looked out my window and I watched the coffin being removed and I felt my heart grow heavy. Then I saw, who I can only assume was his wife and parents waiting. I saw the woman, who I assume was his mother, fall to the ground as the man next to her (his father?) held on to her. The tears streamed down my face just like they are as I type this. The Atlanta heat didn't seem too bad that day.
A few months later, I was traveling to DC and there was an Army man behind me (he was young and hot, I noticed, don't judge). When we landed, the pilot made an announcement and the young man seemed very embarrassed. He was on his way out for his first deployment. However, everyone around him had words of encouragement and thanks. People gave him magazines to read, offered him prayers, words of encouragement, thank yous. I saw two people give him money, which he tried to refuse and they insisted he use it for his lunch or a cup of coffee at the airport. I was proud of those around me, I had an increased hope for humanity. I hope he made it home safely.
I have worked part time at a well known mall store that specializes in personalization for a few years. I started when my husband went to nursing school as a way to add to our income after the loss of his. Years later, I am still there, I want to be. People always think of it as the wedding store, or the baptism store. What people don't realize is it's very much a death store. People suffer a loss, and they come in and tell you a story. Last year, a couple came in to get a flag box engraved. Their son, a Marine, had died in service. They didn't know he wanted the Marine sword until his girlfriend made mention of it post death. Apparently, these swords are special order and take months to make. The company who does them is owned by a former Marine. When the owner found out the circumstances of this order, his staff worked overtime for days so this fallen soldier could be buried with his Marine sword. As I was listening to this story, it occurred to me, that this show of gratitude, of thanks, was making this soldiers' parents smile as they prepared to bury their son... and people say mall jobs are not important...
I had a great holiday weekend, and I was happy for the warm weather and time with my family. I never lost sight of why we celebrate this holiday, what it means. I thought of my friends who have deployed husbands, of my family members, who gave their lives in past wars, who served and came home. I thought of that woman's cousin, of the soldier brought home to Atlanta, of the soldier deploying, of the couple who buried their son. My son asked me this morning what holiday today was. I told him, it's the holiday of heroes, the holiday to celebrate those who have maintained our freedoms, kept us safe. It's the holiday to be thankful.
Years later, I was on a flight to Atlanta for work. When we landed, the pilot announced there would be a slight delay as the plane had carried home a fallen soldier, and he would depart the flight first. There was complete silence. I looked out my window and I watched the coffin being removed and I felt my heart grow heavy. Then I saw, who I can only assume was his wife and parents waiting. I saw the woman, who I assume was his mother, fall to the ground as the man next to her (his father?) held on to her. The tears streamed down my face just like they are as I type this. The Atlanta heat didn't seem too bad that day.
A few months later, I was traveling to DC and there was an Army man behind me (he was young and hot, I noticed, don't judge). When we landed, the pilot made an announcement and the young man seemed very embarrassed. He was on his way out for his first deployment. However, everyone around him had words of encouragement and thanks. People gave him magazines to read, offered him prayers, words of encouragement, thank yous. I saw two people give him money, which he tried to refuse and they insisted he use it for his lunch or a cup of coffee at the airport. I was proud of those around me, I had an increased hope for humanity. I hope he made it home safely.
I have worked part time at a well known mall store that specializes in personalization for a few years. I started when my husband went to nursing school as a way to add to our income after the loss of his. Years later, I am still there, I want to be. People always think of it as the wedding store, or the baptism store. What people don't realize is it's very much a death store. People suffer a loss, and they come in and tell you a story. Last year, a couple came in to get a flag box engraved. Their son, a Marine, had died in service. They didn't know he wanted the Marine sword until his girlfriend made mention of it post death. Apparently, these swords are special order and take months to make. The company who does them is owned by a former Marine. When the owner found out the circumstances of this order, his staff worked overtime for days so this fallen soldier could be buried with his Marine sword. As I was listening to this story, it occurred to me, that this show of gratitude, of thanks, was making this soldiers' parents smile as they prepared to bury their son... and people say mall jobs are not important...
I had a great holiday weekend, and I was happy for the warm weather and time with my family. I never lost sight of why we celebrate this holiday, what it means. I thought of my friends who have deployed husbands, of my family members, who gave their lives in past wars, who served and came home. I thought of that woman's cousin, of the soldier brought home to Atlanta, of the soldier deploying, of the couple who buried their son. My son asked me this morning what holiday today was. I told him, it's the holiday of heroes, the holiday to celebrate those who have maintained our freedoms, kept us safe. It's the holiday to be thankful.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
On This Day, in a Year That Shall Not be Disclosed
Like most little girls, I was precious, sweet, smart, and a little, shall we say, opinionated. Hmm, reminds me of a little boy I know...My mom really never had to tell me to clean my room or do my homework. I just did. Like most teen age girls, I battled my mom occasionally on rules, and there was one incident that resulted in me being grounded for a month w/o driving privileges. For the most part, I didn't really become a hard, stress causing, heart attack causing potential until college. Then, I really made up for a pretty well behaved childhood.
I think most mothers and daughters have their rocky years. I do not know if my mom and I have more or less than normal. I do know she is the best mom anyone could have, even if I didn't always know it.
When I was young, my mom worked 2nd shift as a RN in ICU, and often picked up every OT shift offered. I was about 13 when she switched to the Same Day Surgery Unit, and 1st shift hours. My mom often says she wishes she had those hours when we were younger. I don't feel I missed out on anything, but I am sure she has mom guilt about time spent. She shouldn't, she raised two outstanding (well, pretty good) kids.
Needless to say, I remember my mom coming home at midnight only to leave again at 5am for another shift. I remember Kelly (our babysitter for at least a decade) just heating up our dinners. It wasn't until I was much older, that I realized my mom cooked those meals in the early morning hours, so Kelly just had to heat them up. I am pretty sure my mom cried when Kelly found a "real" job.
I guess when you have two small children and you want to give them the best, your work ethic takes over, so your checking account can do what you need it to. My brother and I were spoiled, although at the time I don't think we knew it. I don't remember wanting for anything: I had the "in" shoes, the "in" back pack, the "in" headbands, we went clothes shopping every summer, and I don't remember "Santa" disappointing. Actually, to show you just how good "Santa" was to us, I know I didn't get a Cheer Bear Care Bear because "Santa" couldn't find one. I remember this to this day, because in all honesty, it's probably the only thing I wanted that I didn't get. My mom remembered it too, because several years ago I received an over sized Cheer Bear Care Bear.
I became fully appreciative and fully aware of my mom's sacrifices when I became a mother. I had always known what a good mom I had, but I didn't realize what an exceptionally outstanding mom I had until Gabriel was born. I remember having so much pain after my c-section (I prefer pain to the nausea prescribed pain pills cause me) that I told my mom I was afraid I wouldn't be able to move quick enough, if say, the house caught on fire. My mom just folded the baby clothes she had washed for me and said: "yes, you will because that's what a mother does. You won't think about the pain if you have to protect your baby." I realized for the 2nd time in a week that I was her baby. The first time I found myself doing laundry at 2am, I wanted to call her and say guess what I am doing? I knew she had done the same.
When I applied to graduate school the essay topic was simple: Why Do You Want To Attend This Program? My response started: Each generation wants to do better for the next, each parent wants to provide more than they had. Let me tell you about my mother.
Happy Birthday, Mom! I love you.
I think most mothers and daughters have their rocky years. I do not know if my mom and I have more or less than normal. I do know she is the best mom anyone could have, even if I didn't always know it.
When I was young, my mom worked 2nd shift as a RN in ICU, and often picked up every OT shift offered. I was about 13 when she switched to the Same Day Surgery Unit, and 1st shift hours. My mom often says she wishes she had those hours when we were younger. I don't feel I missed out on anything, but I am sure she has mom guilt about time spent. She shouldn't, she raised two outstanding (well, pretty good) kids.
Needless to say, I remember my mom coming home at midnight only to leave again at 5am for another shift. I remember Kelly (our babysitter for at least a decade) just heating up our dinners. It wasn't until I was much older, that I realized my mom cooked those meals in the early morning hours, so Kelly just had to heat them up. I am pretty sure my mom cried when Kelly found a "real" job.
I guess when you have two small children and you want to give them the best, your work ethic takes over, so your checking account can do what you need it to. My brother and I were spoiled, although at the time I don't think we knew it. I don't remember wanting for anything: I had the "in" shoes, the "in" back pack, the "in" headbands, we went clothes shopping every summer, and I don't remember "Santa" disappointing. Actually, to show you just how good "Santa" was to us, I know I didn't get a Cheer Bear Care Bear because "Santa" couldn't find one. I remember this to this day, because in all honesty, it's probably the only thing I wanted that I didn't get. My mom remembered it too, because several years ago I received an over sized Cheer Bear Care Bear.
I became fully appreciative and fully aware of my mom's sacrifices when I became a mother. I had always known what a good mom I had, but I didn't realize what an exceptionally outstanding mom I had until Gabriel was born. I remember having so much pain after my c-section (I prefer pain to the nausea prescribed pain pills cause me) that I told my mom I was afraid I wouldn't be able to move quick enough, if say, the house caught on fire. My mom just folded the baby clothes she had washed for me and said: "yes, you will because that's what a mother does. You won't think about the pain if you have to protect your baby." I realized for the 2nd time in a week that I was her baby. The first time I found myself doing laundry at 2am, I wanted to call her and say guess what I am doing? I knew she had done the same.
When I applied to graduate school the essay topic was simple: Why Do You Want To Attend This Program? My response started: Each generation wants to do better for the next, each parent wants to provide more than they had. Let me tell you about my mother.
Happy Birthday, Mom! I love you.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Confessions
In true blog etiquette, I have decided to make a few confessions...so here goes...my very important confessions.
1. I have never watched American Idol, nor do I ever plan to. Yes, I know who Kelly Clarkson, Carrie Underwood, and Jennifer Hudson are. Did I see them perform on the show? No. Can I name anyone else from the show? No. Do I care about any of this? No.
2. Sometimes when I blast the stereo, I feel bad for some of my music selections since there are two young kids that live next to me...and maybe they shouldn't hear Sublime...Eminem, Jay Z...
3. I only know who Snookie and Pauly D are from reading People and US Weekly. While channel surfing, I stopped on the Jersey Shore show, and after 20 seconds, quickly changed it as I couldn't believe this is what television has become...or that people actually live this way.
4. I normally wash my hair every 3-4 days because it is very thick and curly, washing it more often dries out my scalp and my hair. So if I ever tell you I can't do something because I have to wash my hair, I am lying.
5. Real Housewives? Puhlease! I understand this is quit an entertaining train wreck. But I refuse to watch because the name of the show is misleading. Are any of these women actually taking care of their own kids? Scrubbing floors? Cooking dinner? Do they even do community work or serve on the PTA? The show should be called (with maybe a few exceptions) Trophy Wives Gone Bad.
6. Even though I have a dog, I can't stand barking. It drives me insane. That being said, I talk to my dog all the time and yes he understands me. Really, he does. Why are you making that face?
7. At first, I thought the Teem Mom show on MTV could be a good thing, open up some dialogue between parents and kids that otherwise may not have happened; let kids see how hard this thing called child rearing really is. However, it seems that instead it has managed to bring to light a very troubling epidemic: girls with such low self esteem and self worth that they purposely try to get pregnant to have a chance to land a spot on a MTV show. Makes me miss the days when MTV just had videos.
8. I brush my teeth for entirely too long, but I just can't stop. If I don't brush for at least 2 minutes, I feel like my teeth are dirty. However, I rarely floss. Oops. I also still have nightmares that a bridge that was put in when I was in 9th grade (I didn't have my two front bottom adult teeth) is going to come out. I make the dentist check it at every cleaning.
9. I don't watch The Biggest Loser anymore because I cried at least once during every episode.
10. I love the E-Trade commercial where the baby is in timeout for riding the dog. I sometimes rewind it and watch it a few times.
1. I have never watched American Idol, nor do I ever plan to. Yes, I know who Kelly Clarkson, Carrie Underwood, and Jennifer Hudson are. Did I see them perform on the show? No. Can I name anyone else from the show? No. Do I care about any of this? No.
2. Sometimes when I blast the stereo, I feel bad for some of my music selections since there are two young kids that live next to me...and maybe they shouldn't hear Sublime...Eminem, Jay Z...
3. I only know who Snookie and Pauly D are from reading People and US Weekly. While channel surfing, I stopped on the Jersey Shore show, and after 20 seconds, quickly changed it as I couldn't believe this is what television has become...or that people actually live this way.
4. I normally wash my hair every 3-4 days because it is very thick and curly, washing it more often dries out my scalp and my hair. So if I ever tell you I can't do something because I have to wash my hair, I am lying.
5. Real Housewives? Puhlease! I understand this is quit an entertaining train wreck. But I refuse to watch because the name of the show is misleading. Are any of these women actually taking care of their own kids? Scrubbing floors? Cooking dinner? Do they even do community work or serve on the PTA? The show should be called (with maybe a few exceptions) Trophy Wives Gone Bad.
6. Even though I have a dog, I can't stand barking. It drives me insane. That being said, I talk to my dog all the time and yes he understands me. Really, he does. Why are you making that face?
7. At first, I thought the Teem Mom show on MTV could be a good thing, open up some dialogue between parents and kids that otherwise may not have happened; let kids see how hard this thing called child rearing really is. However, it seems that instead it has managed to bring to light a very troubling epidemic: girls with such low self esteem and self worth that they purposely try to get pregnant to have a chance to land a spot on a MTV show. Makes me miss the days when MTV just had videos.
8. I brush my teeth for entirely too long, but I just can't stop. If I don't brush for at least 2 minutes, I feel like my teeth are dirty. However, I rarely floss. Oops. I also still have nightmares that a bridge that was put in when I was in 9th grade (I didn't have my two front bottom adult teeth) is going to come out. I make the dentist check it at every cleaning.
9. I don't watch The Biggest Loser anymore because I cried at least once during every episode.
10. I love the E-Trade commercial where the baby is in timeout for riding the dog. I sometimes rewind it and watch it a few times.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Will the Defendant Please Rise
I have made no attempts at hiding my immature and lost early adulthood. I've made no attempts to be deceitful regarding bad decisions I previously made, or irresponsible behavior. I often site examples from my early 20s when talking a friend through a bad time or trying to remind someone that things can and normally do work out--if you learn from your mistakes and try your best. Those of you who went to college with me, probably remember some examples. Some of you probably think you were privy to most of my downfall, but let me tell you, you only saw the tip of the iceberg. It was far, far worse.
I've clawed my way back up from my rock bottom only to find myself falling again. Only this time, it was out of my hands. So why do I feel like I constantly have to defend myself? It's hard enough to have to keep standing up when you are broken, bruised, and battered from falling. It's even harder when you have to defend yourself while standing up.
Yesterday, I was informed that perhaps my two lay offs were my own fault. Maybe something I did caused my particular lay offs. I had no idea I had the kind of power necessary to cause law firms nationwide to cancel summer programs. Or the power to cause a company, which never adjusted to the economic downturn, to hit a downfall when many were rebounding. I wish I had known about this power, maybe I could have used it to find a job already?
Now had this conversation taken place 10 years ago, 8 years ago, I would say absolutely would it have been my fault. Of course 10 or 8 years ago, I wouldn't have said that, but you understand my point. You see, back then I was known to not show up at things, to be irresponsible. It really hurt that as hard as I have worked and as far as I have come in the last 10 years, I still needed to defend myself.
Am I always perfect now? Of course not. Who can say they are? I am, however, a far better person than I was 10 years ago, 5 years ago, even 2 years ago. I could get better at housekeeping. I did it much better after my first lay off. I think because I wasn't having as hard of a time then. Vacuuming didn't make me think about the carpet I wanted to replace, dusting didn't make me think about the furniture I don't have, or the walls I wanted to paint. I was sure at any moment I'd go back to work and I didn't want my house to be dirty. Maybe because I had all these little organization projects I could finally get done.
Do I lose my temper? I am not proud to say, but yes, sometimes I do. Especially now when I am operating on such a short fuse. Stress causes fights. Money causes fight. Stress over money causes household wars. If you think most marriages fail due to a cheating spouse, think again. Most marriages fail due to financial stress.
Do I have days that my bed seems to have magnetic powers as I fight depression? Of course, I am unemployed, I am broke, and I often feel alone. There are only so many times you can say no to Bob Evans before you just don't want to think about bacon anymore (and really I think about bacon all the time, so this is pretty serious).
Am I irresponsible? No. If anything I could stand to have a little more fun. To not constantly be thinking in outline form, to stop thinking about point B before I have finished with point A, to not clean up at parties that aren't at my house, to say no when people ask for help or favors.
Am I immature? A few days ago I would have answered this with a no. However, in the last 72 hours I hit a breaking point, which caused me to do and say some very immature things and they weren't exactly said in a nice even tone topped with sugar. Maybe that is not immaturity, maybe it's just breaking. But it seems like breaking causes immaturity.
Every day I spend hours looking for jobs and applying for jobs. Looking for a job, is a job in itself. I schedule all interviews I am offered, even if they are far away locations (hello, Streetsboro and Highland Heights). I go through the process with everything because something is better than nothing, even if that something is 40 minutes away, gas prices are over $4, and I have a SUV. I had an interview Monday, I have another interview Friday, one on Monday, and one on Tuesday. Plus, I am waiting to hear back from 2 places regarding the next interview. I have a lot in the works, the lengthy processes are just not on the side of my checking account. For someone to say I am doing nothing, irks me.
Today, I am going to follow my normal look for jobs routine, but then I am going to do some housework. I am going to start by cleaning the window pains. I am not going to think about the carpet I'd like to replace or the walls I'd like to paint while I clean. That serves no purpose but to further my depression. I will instead think of a sunny day with a high of 80 and the fact that there is bacon in my freezer. I am not going to think about the doubters, I don't have time to waste on people who don't believe in me. I have bedding to wash.
I've clawed my way back up from my rock bottom only to find myself falling again. Only this time, it was out of my hands. So why do I feel like I constantly have to defend myself? It's hard enough to have to keep standing up when you are broken, bruised, and battered from falling. It's even harder when you have to defend yourself while standing up.
Yesterday, I was informed that perhaps my two lay offs were my own fault. Maybe something I did caused my particular lay offs. I had no idea I had the kind of power necessary to cause law firms nationwide to cancel summer programs. Or the power to cause a company, which never adjusted to the economic downturn, to hit a downfall when many were rebounding. I wish I had known about this power, maybe I could have used it to find a job already?
Now had this conversation taken place 10 years ago, 8 years ago, I would say absolutely would it have been my fault. Of course 10 or 8 years ago, I wouldn't have said that, but you understand my point. You see, back then I was known to not show up at things, to be irresponsible. It really hurt that as hard as I have worked and as far as I have come in the last 10 years, I still needed to defend myself.
Am I always perfect now? Of course not. Who can say they are? I am, however, a far better person than I was 10 years ago, 5 years ago, even 2 years ago. I could get better at housekeeping. I did it much better after my first lay off. I think because I wasn't having as hard of a time then. Vacuuming didn't make me think about the carpet I wanted to replace, dusting didn't make me think about the furniture I don't have, or the walls I wanted to paint. I was sure at any moment I'd go back to work and I didn't want my house to be dirty. Maybe because I had all these little organization projects I could finally get done.
Do I lose my temper? I am not proud to say, but yes, sometimes I do. Especially now when I am operating on such a short fuse. Stress causes fights. Money causes fight. Stress over money causes household wars. If you think most marriages fail due to a cheating spouse, think again. Most marriages fail due to financial stress.
Do I have days that my bed seems to have magnetic powers as I fight depression? Of course, I am unemployed, I am broke, and I often feel alone. There are only so many times you can say no to Bob Evans before you just don't want to think about bacon anymore (and really I think about bacon all the time, so this is pretty serious).
Am I irresponsible? No. If anything I could stand to have a little more fun. To not constantly be thinking in outline form, to stop thinking about point B before I have finished with point A, to not clean up at parties that aren't at my house, to say no when people ask for help or favors.
Am I immature? A few days ago I would have answered this with a no. However, in the last 72 hours I hit a breaking point, which caused me to do and say some very immature things and they weren't exactly said in a nice even tone topped with sugar. Maybe that is not immaturity, maybe it's just breaking. But it seems like breaking causes immaturity.
Every day I spend hours looking for jobs and applying for jobs. Looking for a job, is a job in itself. I schedule all interviews I am offered, even if they are far away locations (hello, Streetsboro and Highland Heights). I go through the process with everything because something is better than nothing, even if that something is 40 minutes away, gas prices are over $4, and I have a SUV. I had an interview Monday, I have another interview Friday, one on Monday, and one on Tuesday. Plus, I am waiting to hear back from 2 places regarding the next interview. I have a lot in the works, the lengthy processes are just not on the side of my checking account. For someone to say I am doing nothing, irks me.
Today, I am going to follow my normal look for jobs routine, but then I am going to do some housework. I am going to start by cleaning the window pains. I am not going to think about the carpet I'd like to replace or the walls I'd like to paint while I clean. That serves no purpose but to further my depression. I will instead think of a sunny day with a high of 80 and the fact that there is bacon in my freezer. I am not going to think about the doubters, I don't have time to waste on people who don't believe in me. I have bedding to wash.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
From Lost to Found
I knew I was a mom, when mother nature informed me with a late cycle. I was late. I was never late. A million thoughts went through my head. We weren't trying, but we obviously weren't doing so great at preventing.
A few days later, while walking in the drug store, I casually walked down the aisle, where the pregnancy tests would be. I shouted behind me, I need a pregnancy test. M said nothing. We drove home, the sun was shining, I looked out the window. I knew it would be positive.
At home we unloaded our purchases and then I went to take the test. It was positive. I shouted from the bathroom to M, who was rooms away: I'm pregnant. In hindsight, I could have at least entered the room he was in. Maybe even taken the test and then handed him one of those "you are going to be a dad cards". I think Hallmark makes them.
You become a mother the minute you know you are expecting. I talked to G (even before I knew he'd be G) all the time in my head. I followed What to Expect When You are Expecting like it was my job. I asked a ton of questions at doctor's appointments. I refused medicine when sick, caffeine when thirsty. I refused the epidural, until a c-section left me no choice but anesthesia.
From the minute I held G (which wasn't immediate due to the c-section--I was actually the 5th person to hold him counting my doctor, a nurse, M, and M's best friend), I wanted nothing but the best for him. His birth turned a lost 25 year old girl into a grown 25 year old woman, who would find her purpose and path in life because her son needed her to. G gave me purpose, he gave me willpower, he gave me hope and desire to figure it all out.
I want G to have all the opportunities and all the advantages I had, I want him to have better. Let's be honest, this is a hard adventure to undertake. I will not give up, not even now. I won't be a lost 33 year old. I lost my job, not my pride (as the song says), not my willpower, not my hope, not my desire. Not my motherhood. I get out of bed everyday because G needs me. I get out of bed everyday because the suit in me likes making waffles just as much as drawing up policies.
I can't even begin to write about the sacrifices my mom made for both my brother and I. I can't even begin to say how she has shaped me as not only a woman, but as a mother. I can only hope that some day when Gabriel starts dating, marries, and has kids that he will look back and think the same regarding me. It doesn't matter what else I accomplish in my life, as long as I do right by him.
A few days later, while walking in the drug store, I casually walked down the aisle, where the pregnancy tests would be. I shouted behind me, I need a pregnancy test. M said nothing. We drove home, the sun was shining, I looked out the window. I knew it would be positive.
At home we unloaded our purchases and then I went to take the test. It was positive. I shouted from the bathroom to M, who was rooms away: I'm pregnant. In hindsight, I could have at least entered the room he was in. Maybe even taken the test and then handed him one of those "you are going to be a dad cards". I think Hallmark makes them.
You become a mother the minute you know you are expecting. I talked to G (even before I knew he'd be G) all the time in my head. I followed What to Expect When You are Expecting like it was my job. I asked a ton of questions at doctor's appointments. I refused medicine when sick, caffeine when thirsty. I refused the epidural, until a c-section left me no choice but anesthesia.
From the minute I held G (which wasn't immediate due to the c-section--I was actually the 5th person to hold him counting my doctor, a nurse, M, and M's best friend), I wanted nothing but the best for him. His birth turned a lost 25 year old girl into a grown 25 year old woman, who would find her purpose and path in life because her son needed her to. G gave me purpose, he gave me willpower, he gave me hope and desire to figure it all out.
I want G to have all the opportunities and all the advantages I had, I want him to have better. Let's be honest, this is a hard adventure to undertake. I will not give up, not even now. I won't be a lost 33 year old. I lost my job, not my pride (as the song says), not my willpower, not my hope, not my desire. Not my motherhood. I get out of bed everyday because G needs me. I get out of bed everyday because the suit in me likes making waffles just as much as drawing up policies.
I can't even begin to write about the sacrifices my mom made for both my brother and I. I can't even begin to say how she has shaped me as not only a woman, but as a mother. I can only hope that some day when Gabriel starts dating, marries, and has kids that he will look back and think the same regarding me. It doesn't matter what else I accomplish in my life, as long as I do right by him.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
If you can survive here
I was speaking with a headhunter today regarding a possible position in a very interesting atmosphere. I use the word interesting for lack of a better word and also to save confidentiality as the replacement is confidential. She said: "what I like about your resume" and I interrupted and said "is that I have worked at many law firms and like the saying goes--if you can survive a law firm, you can work anywhere." She laughed and said exactly, and you have worked at more than one firm. You are obviously strong." No, the job is not at a firm.
We had spoken for about 20 minutes prior to this revelation and I had a good feel for what she was thinking (call it the recruiting intuition). She was direct, to the point, and very business like. Plus, she called me at 9pm. I liked her.
However, the conversation and what she said got me thinking. If you can survive working in a firm (and several in my case), you can work anywhere. You are obviously very strong.
While I do feel I could probably work in any environment in which I found myself, I don't necessarily want to. Just like, I can (some days better than others) deal with the bad hand life sometimes deals me, but I don't really want to. While I know that life is not always easy, and that it has its challenges, I can't help but wonder does it ever end? Is there such a thing as normal? With everything that has happened in my last 2 years, I am beginning to doubt such a thing as normal exists. Perhaps, this is my normal?
If this is my normal, what lesson am I supposed to learn? What more am I supposed to give? Accomplish? Realize? To be honest, the lesson of life is taking its tole on me. The circles under my eyes are becoming ingrained into my otherwise very nice skin. My already thin patience is becoming anorexic.
I am trying very hard to meet success with humility, to encounter misfortune without bitterness or defeat. But it is very hard. Some days I feel like all my strength is gone and all I want to do is go back to bed. I've been at war with the "higher being" for some time now. I am not sure such a being exists. I have been questioning this in a very agnostic way. It's hypocritical in some ways--my son attends a religious school and attends church most Sundays. I still have icons in my house and every now and then I find myself praying.
I am a very stubborn person. I am not ready to cave. Lately, I have been wondering, if perhaps, life is waiting for me to cave before it turns around.
We had spoken for about 20 minutes prior to this revelation and I had a good feel for what she was thinking (call it the recruiting intuition). She was direct, to the point, and very business like. Plus, she called me at 9pm. I liked her.
However, the conversation and what she said got me thinking. If you can survive working in a firm (and several in my case), you can work anywhere. You are obviously very strong.
While I do feel I could probably work in any environment in which I found myself, I don't necessarily want to. Just like, I can (some days better than others) deal with the bad hand life sometimes deals me, but I don't really want to. While I know that life is not always easy, and that it has its challenges, I can't help but wonder does it ever end? Is there such a thing as normal? With everything that has happened in my last 2 years, I am beginning to doubt such a thing as normal exists. Perhaps, this is my normal?
If this is my normal, what lesson am I supposed to learn? What more am I supposed to give? Accomplish? Realize? To be honest, the lesson of life is taking its tole on me. The circles under my eyes are becoming ingrained into my otherwise very nice skin. My already thin patience is becoming anorexic.
I am trying very hard to meet success with humility, to encounter misfortune without bitterness or defeat. But it is very hard. Some days I feel like all my strength is gone and all I want to do is go back to bed. I've been at war with the "higher being" for some time now. I am not sure such a being exists. I have been questioning this in a very agnostic way. It's hypocritical in some ways--my son attends a religious school and attends church most Sundays. I still have icons in my house and every now and then I find myself praying.
I am a very stubborn person. I am not ready to cave. Lately, I have been wondering, if perhaps, life is waiting for me to cave before it turns around.
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