Posts Tagged With: love

cardinal rules

I have a friend who’s second unbreakable life rule or, “Rule # 2” is that no one is permitted into his home.
I find this fascinating. No one in his home. Ever. (my suspicion is that emergency medical providers are the only exception)

I don’t know that I could ever have his second rule. Let us disregard for a moment the fact that I share a dwelling with YBW and his children (part time).
I need that energy that people bring…and I like to be in my own space. So, that would never work for me. I occasionally want to be around people while also remaining in my own physical space.
And that’s OK. I’m me, not him.

That got me thinking: I’m so me. Like, all the freaking time! And that me is an unholy mess of a girl, as well as put together AF.
I like that about me.
I embrace it, and I celebrate it.

It occurs to me that so many people don’t embrace and celebrate the “me” they are. Folks are so busy trying to be something they may not be because of any number of outside influences, societal rules, or even to impress a potential mate.
In trying to become something else, bits of the me get lost.
Some of those could be OK to lose, crap bits to bid a “good riddance” to. But some of those are important pieces. Invaluable and irreplaceable.
The me is the best and most important piece of the puzzle. Even if you haven’t completely figured out your me.
I learn about the me I am every day.
I learn stuff I love, and want to keep, I learn stuff I feel ambivalent about but realize may have value. I learn stuff I know I can chuck in the bin because it’s bad for me and anyone I come in contact with. But even the chuck it in the bin stuff can be embraced, because I learned something from it. At the very least, I learned I didn’t need it…at most, I may have even learned why.

Some folks are so concerned with improvement they don’t stop first to examine what’s there that might be handy. They just dump it and begin searching for new stuff to fill the void.
That will never get anybody anywhere!
If folks are externally motivated, they’re never going to experience the all-important A-ha! moments. Never experience the all-important I did it! moments.
I believe you lose the most important aspect of the me when you’re externally motivated. When you need to be filled up by other people, or things. It doesn’t seem to me that you’re even aware of the me inside you, much less embracing and celebrating it. That makes me so sad. I cannot stress enough how much that (those) someones are missing out!

Embrace and celebrate what you have within you. Learn it and learn from it.
Accept and release some of it. Accept and embrace other of it.
But, above all, celebrate the “me” inside you.

I’m me.
I’m a hot mess and a tight ship. And that is the way I like it. I’m so over trying to be what external influences expect me to be.
I’m just the me I expect me to be.
I’m amazing and wonderful because I’m flawed.
Each lesson I’ve learned, the good, the bad, the indifferent have made and continue to make me this wonderfully flawed woman.

I think that’s the most important of my Cardinal Rules.
If I decided to create unbreakable rules for my life they might look like this.

1. Embrace and celebrate the me I am.
2. Live my intention.
3.

(yeah, I sort of borrowed that one, but I feel it keenly)
4. Communicate with honesty.
5. Know my limits.

That’s just off the top of my head…I might mix it up a little, I might keep it the way it is. But, over all, that’s how I intended to live my life.
Cardinal Rules.
It occurs to me that I already lived them, just never stopped to write them down.

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my girls

After being here with me for nine days, Thing 1 left Thursday to return home to her sweet husband, N.
I woke Friday to an empty house.
Normally I’d love that, but after Thing 1 being here, I didn’t. I was sad. No, not really sad, more disappointed. Kind of empty feeling.
But it was fleeting.
I got to work. Only I was missing someone to talk with. Even missing her crazy habit of following me everywhere.
I’m feeling that nagging sense of missing out. I know they’re meant to grow up and leave home and all that jazz. But I’m selfish! I want to spend more time together.

The way I’m feeling reminds me of that Abba song Slipping Through My Fingers.

That’s what it feels like to have grown girls.
I miss them in ways that cause me physical pain.

I get my hackles all up and think, I shouldn’t have to miss them. Only that would be impinging their natural development. But it’s funny, it seems to me that in my natural development, they should still be mine and not yet their own.
Children grow at their own pace. Parents are left in the dust.
Logically, I get that. I understand that I did my job. That I gave them the best foundation I could and now it’s up to them to build upon it.
Emotionally, I want to still be active in their lives, I want to listen to troubles and joys and giggles and have great snuggle-fests in my bed.
Parents should evolve at the same rate their children do. That they don’t doesn’t seem quite equitable.
Alas, it was always thus. (or was it?)

Thing 1 is an amazing woman. I don’t say this because she’s my daughter. I am truly awestruck by her. She is smart and funny. She is more strong and capable than she actually realizes. She speaks of not feeling “adulty” enough and looking around for someone more “adulty” than her. But she’s got this. She’s absolutely “adulty” enough to successfully live her own life. And really, what more could a mom want for her child?
We had such wonderful conversations, some seriously examining our relationship and life, some just plain silly. We talked about raising children and healthy relationships. We talked about baseball. (She’s a convert! She decided to love baseball after her first trip to Nats Park!) Oh happy day!
Spending that time with my firstborn was precious to me. No, more than precious. Our time together was sacred.
At one point in our lives I wondered if we’d ever truly be a part of each other again. Yet, here we are.

At the ballpark, the couple behind us told us that we were a “precious family”. That we were “so blessed” and it was obvious that Thing 1 was “adored”.
That moved me so. I’m not sure Thing 1 believes she is adored. I hope she learns to remember that more each and every day.

Before Thing 1 came here, Thing 2 and her boyfriend J spent two weeks with Thing 1 and Husband N.
One thing that makes me happy is that the girls being together seems to have been especially good for Thing 2. Though, it was really good for Thing 1 too. And I enjoyed listening to her talk of their time together while she was here.
Thing 2 is dating a guy that Thing 1 absolutely adores! That’s a big deal for Thing 1. Those external relationships must function successfully within their internal sisterhood.
She’s said that if Thing 2 hadn’t liked Husband N, she never would have married him. She expressed that she’s closest to Thing 2 over anyone else in the world, and that is her most valued relationship. I know not with certainty if Thing 2 feels the same, but I sure hope she does.
It seems the time they spent together was healthy and positive for both of them.

Thing 2 is becoming so much more aware of herself. I love that for her!
She is a tricky sort of girl…filled with acute self-awareness, yet seemingly unable to put it into action. This causes her much trouble. To know, yet be unable to do much about it is a tricky place to be.
But, I think she’s making some positive changes for herself. I also believe the time with her sister was beneficial to reinforce that.

We had an interesting text conversation late last week.

Thing 2’s friend Anna was critically injured in a car accident last summer, in all honesty, we’re lucky that she’s still with us. She just had a follow-up surgery to assist in the healing of one of her legs that’s a bit shorter than the other from the accident.
Anna lives with Thing 2 at her father’s house. Thing 2 has been her primary care giver since the accident. It took a toll on their friendship, but it seems as though they’ve been able to come out the other side stronger.

This one came immediately after the first one, before I even had a chance to respond.

“I was full of shit.” Yes, my darling, you were. But, owning it is the first step to changing it.
I told her that communication is difficult, but becomes simpler with practice.
She wondered if it was “shitty to say I’m proud of me?”
I assured her it was not, that she should be proud of her accomplishments.
Then I told her ‘life = perpetually learning more about yourself’.

Y’all, I’m forty six years old and I do that every single day! My twenty year old daughter is wondering if she should be proud of learning more about her self.
Um, YES PLEASE!

Being a mom is the most gut-wrenchingly painful experience of my life.
Being a mom is the most joy-filled, awe-inspiring, rewarding experience of my life.
It’s no wonder I feel like I didn’t evolve at the same rate as my girls. How could I possibly?

I find it hard not to focus on “missing out” when they continue to become such unbelievably cool human women! But, I have their lifetime of love and joy and being together deep within me. It sustains my sadness at being apart from them. It keeps me from missing them more than I can bear.
But we’re lucky enough to have a love that is unshakable. We’re lucky enough to be able to call each other out on her shit. We’re lucky enough to carry on real conversations about important issues with love and compassion, and even a bit of understanding.
Communication. Who knew?

This is what Husband N had to say in response to me thanking him for helping celebrate Thing 2’s birthday. But more importantly, expressing to him how much it means to me that he loves both my girls.

Amen to that!

Categories: on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

love-filled, lemon-scented paradise

Y’all know I am absolutely obsessed with porch life. This spring and summer have afforded me loads of time to spend on the back porch.
Currently it’s just too damn hot to even consider going out there. We hit a heat index of 105 yesterday, and it’s not much less today at 101.

Over the weekend and earlier in the week though, I was out on the porch a great deal.
Monday afternoon I went out with my journal and sat writing for the longest time.

I was having a really lovely day. I was productive and felt fully present in my life. I was truly living my intention that day. And while I was writing, the most amazing (albeit obvious) thing occurred to me.
My love of porch life is me living my intention!
I feel like there should be a great big, “Duh!” at the end of that statement. Only I’m not going to judge it. I’m just embracing the hell out of it.

Little reminders. Little things. Little pleasures. That’s the love.
When I’m writing about how I’m feeling, what I’m thinking, and how it impacts my daily life, I experience the love.
More times than not, it’s about paying attention.
When I’m present in my life, I mean actively living, and open to the world around me, I’m living my intention without even trying.
Enjoying porch life is a way I can express love for myself. It’s a way of living my intention of love for me.
Life on the porch is a peaceful, love-filled, lemon-scented paradise and if that’s not living my intention, I don’t know what could be.

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twenty years of muchness

Thing 2 is twenty today!
Twenty years of the muchiest muchness you ever saw!
That girl.
Sometimes she’s the most precious angel. Sometimes she’s the devil incarnate. I suspect that could be said about many girls on the planet, only this one is my girl.

At the Udvar-Hazy there, is a missile with Thing 2’s name on it. Whenever I see it, this is what I think, ‘Thing 2 missile, blowing shit up with sass!’
Because that’s kind of what she does. She just goes around blowing ship up with her sass. I actually love that about her.
She wears a bit of an armor, going around like a bad ass, but she’s got a kindness to her that she keeps close to the chest.
Like Veronica Mars, Thing 2 has a marshmallow center.

We’ve had a tricky time of late. She’s trying to figure out how to be a more grown version of herself. I’m trying to feel connected to her as she develops this new version of herself.
It’s easy to let miles and time create a hole in our relationship. We both do it.
The hole in our relationship doesn’t mean we don’t love each other, but it sure feels icky to have to traverse that hole to connect with each other.

Five years ago, she wrote this:

Truth is: You are the best mom I could ever ask for, even when I’m all messed up-you fix everything! Love you.

I want to be this mom still. Only that ship has sailed. I can’t fix everything for her anymore. I know that. Knowing it and accepting how that feels are two different things. I will always be her Momma. Only in an entirely new and less active way.

Last month she wrote this:

Oftentimes it feels like you’re reaching out to and calling for a Thing 2 that I’m just not anymore. Be it that you want different things for me, or just different things in general. I can’t be “your Thing 2” anymore. I have to be the person that I am, even if that’s still flaky right now.

You will always be my mom and I will always be your daughter. I need you to respect that your role in that isn’t going to be as active as it used to be. That doesn’t mean that I don’t need you, and it’s ridiculous that I don’t want you in my life–I just want you to let me go a little.

In my response I wrote the following:

As for being “my Thing 2”, well, you will always be “my Thing 2”, that’s just because I’m your Momma. The Thing 2 you are is a constantly growing and developing Thing 2, that’s natural. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

What you don’t know is that I don’t judge you. I believe you think I do. But in all honesty, I don’t. All I want is for you to get your muchness fired up and be the Thing 2 you want to be. That might look like something I never even expected. And that is OK! I know the Thing 2 you’ve been isn’t the Thing 2 you want to be, I know you want more for yourself. Only you can decide what that looks like.

We will always be connected because you are my daughter and I am your mother. I wouldn’t change that for anything in the world. I long to be connected to you as a human being. I want to know the Thing 2 you are now, the Thing 2 you are becoming. Not only because I’m your mom, but because I have a burning desire to know you as a human being.

Today, as we celebrate the twentieth anniversary of her birth. I’m reminded of the sick baby she was. I’m reminded of the precocious preschooler she was. I’m reminded of the sweet girl she was. I’m reminded of the sassy teenager filled with “wizard angst” she was. I’m reminded that through every illness, joy, sadness, laugh, tear, hair color, and fight, she is my baby.
She is the love I never even knew I needed.
She is my heart outside my body.
I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Woo Hoo! Birthday Birthday! Happiest day to you, Moo! I love you more than the moon and the stars.

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flying by the seat of your pants

Here’s a random thing I like about YBW: his ability to fly by the seat of his pants. That’s isn’t a trait I’m especially good at and he’s teaching me how to…be inclined to try it. Isn’t that fortunate? Flying by the seat of your pants isn’t as anxiety inducing when you’ve got somebody holding your hand.

Yesterday we went out with the plan of visiting a (new to us) winery, with the possibility of stopping to take photos as we might be moved.
Turns out we had old information because when we pulled up to the vineyard, the gates were locked and a sign told us the hours of operation were Friday – Saturday – Sunday 11 to 5. So much for open daily 11 to 5.

In that moment we had a choice.
Let disappointment suck the air out of our sails, or quickly regroup and come up with a plan.
When I suggested we go to “our” winery, YBW asked if I really wanted wine. Not so much.

So we drove along route 55 for a while and found this abandoned barn.

Only this farm wasn’t abandoned, it was just dilapidated. It was actually home to some cows, and a (fairly) modern tractor was parked near the fence.

Since we were nearly there and neither of us had recollection of ever actually being there, we decided to check out Front Royal to see what the little town had to offer.
We ate a yummy lunch before wandering Main Street. It was mostly antique shops, but we had fun. You never know what you’re going to find.
I bought an old glass phone line insulator.

I haven’t yet decided what I’ll do with it, which should always be the first step in purchasing something you don’t really need. But I love the color of it. The history. The fact it has the company name on it.
It’s probably just something that will need to be dusted, but I don’t care. I wanted it. And I spent less than $20 from my babysitting money to own it.
(Is it funny that a grown ass woman talks about her babysitting money? Yeah, it kind of is. But two of my sweetest friends both celebrated their wedding anniversaries the end of June and needed someone to look after their children.)

Anyway, my sweet husband and I had a lovely day together just flying by the seat of our pants.

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sisters

My heart is full of love.
I got a snapchat from Thing 2 late last night.
She’s at her sister’s!

The idea of my two Things together makes me so happy!
They have a uniquely precious friendship. It’s been through it’s share of troubles, but what sister relationship hasn’t?

They’ve lived through every moment of their lives (well, Thing 2’s life anyway) together. Every joy. Every sadness. Every fear. Every love. They’ve been each other’s best friend and worst enemy. Though they are quick to get at each other, each girl would kill or die to protect her sister from an outside threat. Even now, after time and events and miles have created a distance between them.

Am I jealous?
No, that’s not the right word.
Do I feel like I’m missing out?
Absolutely!
But not in a selfish way.

Being able to witness their complicated love of the last (nearly) twenty years. To see how their relationship has evolved as they become women. To listen as they speak their own personal language, when they finish each other’s sentences. To laugh at age-old jokes, or family stories they love to share.
I love the relationship my daughters have with each other. They are so blessed to have it. And they know it.
Sure, they take each other for granted. Sure they annoy each other if they’re together for too long. But when it comes down to it, they belong to each other in a way they belong to none of the rest of us.

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don’t f**k with Mr Zero

Years ago, I adopted a saying from the movie When Harry Met Sally.
“Don’t f**k with Mr Zero.”
I am Mr Zero.
Do not f**k with me.
And for your own good, do not f**k with my kids.

We were at the U.S. Capital building on Monday. A tour with YBW’s cousin, her husband, and their three year old daughter, who are visiting us from out of town. Joining us, YBW’s brother and Thing G.
All was well until YBW’s brother displayed a bit of “hangry” behavior. Y’all know what hangry is, right? Means you act like a great big dick with the excuse that you’re hungry. (note: that’s my definition, not Webster’s or OE’s)

Now I know something about hangry…only I never actually called it that. Thing 2 is hypoglycemic and can become grouchy when her blood sugar is low. A quick protein-rich carbohydrate snack to bring her blood sugar up quickly and keep it up, and boom! She’s right as rain.

Anyway.
YBW’s brother needs to eat. Like, yesterday.
So Thing G offers him a piece of gum to tide him over. Well, the gum is declined. Not rudely, but not exactly with politeness either. Thing G being the Thing G he is, is happy to accept the decline of his offer, but wants to explain why he offered the gum. His uncle doesn’t want any part of hearing it. He turns to the kid and just shouts, “NO!”
And that’s when my hackles go up.
Don’t talk to my kid like that, mother f**ker! (Only I don’t say that out loud.)
What I do say is, “Whoa, how about no thank you?”
I take Thing G by the hand, who is still trying to explain…
His uncle says, “I’m just hungry!”
I reply, “I understand that, but don’t take it out on us.”
So I hold Thing G back a moment as his uncle keeps walking.
Thing G says, “I just want to explain why I offered the gum.”
I got close to his face and said, “Let it go, bud. He doesn’t want to hear it. But you can tell me instead.”
By this time YBW has caught up to us, I signal to him that I’ve got it.
Thing G explains that sometimes when he’s hungry, chewing a piece of gum will tied him over until he can eat.
Makes a kind of sense.

I’m freaking livid.
Don’t you talk to my kid like that. I don’t give a damn if you’re hangry or not.
But I calm my heart and take Thing G’s hand and we go down the stairs together.

Meanwhile, YBW’s brother has eaten and has returned his normal likable self. So instead of letting this eat me up inside, I let it go. I protected the kid when he needed back up and he’s safe so I can retreat from momma-lioness mode. And we talk and joke and move on about our day.

A bit later, YBW comes to me and says, “Thanks for defending my kid.”
I look him in his eyes and say, “He’s my kid too. But, you’re welcome.”
Thing G sees this. He has a little smile on his lips as he takes his next bite.

Now, I ride that kid hard, and sometimes we don’t see eye to eye.
But I will cut you before I let you be unkind to that kid, or treat him with disrespect.
I love him.
He is part of my brood. Therefore under my protection. Now, I might kick his ass, but I’ll go down swinging before I let somebody else do it.

Of course, Thing G will eventually need to learn that he won’t always be able to express his own point of view. He’ll have to figure out how to accept that and function through it. He’s grown so much in the last four years. And I don’t just mean he’s now taller than me. I mean he’s beginning to advocate for himself. He’s beginning to show how capable he can be. He’s beginning to figure out his place in the world. This is trick for any seventeen year old, but especially so for one with his diagnosis.
But Thing G isn’t his diagnosis. It’s taken his family quite some time to really understand and accept that. It’s taken him a bit longer to understand and accept that. He’s a work in progress. (Like every single one of the rest of us.)

When it comes to the children in my brood (however grown), listen well. All of you.
I am the Mistress of All Evil and I. Will. Cut. You.

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occasionally I burst into song

Standing in the bathroom yesterday morning. YBW is shaving and I’m doing my hair.
I begin to sing about what I’m observing. Just belting it out, making it up as I go along. The tune comes from nowhere, the words are silly and mostly make a kind of sense that doesn’t.
He chuckles.
I say, “See! Real people sometimes burst into song in their daily lives!”
He nods, “Yes, but you’re not singing verse after verse.”
“Neither do I have a choreographed dance number.” I say with a wink.

Folks really do sing at random as they go about their day.
Sure, huge orchestral music and background dancers aren’t involved. (At least not in my random song bursts.) But there are times that life really is a cabaret, old chum, and one must burst into song.

Not all of us are fortunate enough to have the Sherman brothers

or Stephen Sondheim

be our personal lyricists.
But that’s OK. When you’re moved by the situation and need to create a little music about it, go ahead. Belt it out! Sing as though MGM has created an entire technicolor soundstage as a place for you to stand.
Sing the song of your life.

After I sang about personal grooming, I switched into Libertines mode and sang I Get Along

So sing your song. Sing loudly or quietly. Sing on or off key. Sing with your eyes wide open or shut. Sing the song of your life. Sing the words and tune that happen in your soul at any moment.
It’ll make you feel good and if someone gives you grief or causes you to feel embarrassed, just remember my favorite line from I Get Along:

I get along just singing my song, people tell me I’m wrong.
F**k ’em.

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paying attention to my gratitude

I’ve been thinking about what it means to feel gratitude.
What it means to appreciate what’s important in your world.

These thoughts have been bouncing around for a few days, inspired by my therapy appointment, another with the acupuncturist, and a long-overdo conversation with my beloved sister in law. And though these thoughts are not as fully formed as they might become, it feels to me that they’re ready to hatch.

In living my intention, I’m inclined to believe that in love, all things are possible. But somehow I think it’s more than that. Well, perhaps not ‘more’, as much as ‘in addition to’. (Remember up there where I said these thoughts might not be fully formed?)
Nothing will ever convince me that the word with which I intend to live my life is not love. But…I’m always open to adding new meanings to my personal definition of love. And that’s the pinball of thought that’s been bouncing around in my brain.


A woman I love so dearly commented, “I just love this pic and your life.” in response to this photo.
And you know, for the first time in a while, I stopped and actively thought about it. I love my life too!
I mean I really love my life!
I’m grateful, thankful, and joyful for who and what I have in my life!

I get stuck in my head so frequently. So damn frequently that I don’t actually stop to look around me. And I miss it. I miss all the little things. Sometimes the big things too. And in those moments of recognition, gratitude bursts forth from my heart like a dam breaking.

I don’t think the people in my life experience my gratitude. How could they really, if I don’t?
I told YBW how much I appreciate him. How grateful I am for him. Not only as my husband, but as a human being. His kindness, his patience, his ridiculous sense of humor. My life would be lacking without him.
I’m not sure he feels it. So I’ve charged myself with being more mindful about showing my gratitude, especially to him.

I’m grateful for new and different healthcare providers that have helped me feel well for the first time in years. Thank you for helping me move from a place of being actively sick, to being actively getting healthy!

I’m grateful for my nieces and nephews, none of which are my blood kin. The love we share is sacred. Each one of them is so precious to me. And when I get a random voicemail from one announcing he’ll be in the area with his boyfriend and best friend looking for a place to stay, there is no hesitation. I simply open our home to them. Wherever I am will always be home to my giant brood of children, grown as they are.

I feel gratitude for the relationships I have with my stepsons. My love for them is much bigger than I think any of them understands. Thing C and and Thing G are a blessing in my world. They’re teaching me how to understand boys in a way I have never experienced. And though I’m quick to say I need more estrogen in my world, I’m grateful for the life lessons these guys share with me.

I’m grateful for the women I love. The ones that call me when they need to be talked off the ledge, or that I call for the same reasons. Though we may not see each other or talk as often as we’d like, not a moment has passed in the in between.
That by my precious Sally saying she loves my life, I remember to stop and love it too.
That when Nicole calls me from across the country because she can’t break the cycle of chaos in her brain, I can tell her that she can’t fix it. And it settles her because she knew it, but needed to hear me say it to get there. That Jessica and I can speak of all our joys or troubles with love and understanding.
That Sundance and I are able to communicate oftentimes without even using words.

I’m filled with gratitude when I see my grown girls living their lives. That Thing 1 has become a woman I am constantly awed by, yet retain the feeling of knowing what it’s like to hold her in my arms and keep her safe.
That even though my relationship with Thing 2 feels more like navigating a minefield at the moment, my heart fills with gratitude for all the years of loving each other.

I’m so much more grateful to YBW than he can even imagine. I took a leap of faith all those years ago, and trusted him when he told me he thought he was falling in love with me. That leap of faith has brought me great joy and some pain. But mostly it’s brought me love. A new and different way of loving. When I think “hashtag love my life” so much of that is because of him. I’m the me I am now because of my relationship with him.
Now, I’m the first to admit this me is still me in progress…but I’m a pretty damn good me.

Huh! Looks like Destination Girl is learning to be grateful for the Journey after all.

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pinball machine thoughts

I’ve been sick since we got home from NYC. Is it allergies? Is it a virus? I don’t know, but there is enough mucus for several people sloshing around in my head.
The coughing is even worse. Because after two babies my pelvic floor isn’t what it used to be and I’ve had more “accidents” in the last two weeks than when I was a toddler.
TMI?
My apologies.
I’m just keeping it real here in my nest.

I still haven’t gone through the photos I took in New York. I mean I moved them from the camera to the computer, but there they sit. No edits. Nothing in my ‘to be printed’ folder. I’m either really taking my time or I’m just not up to it. Either way, I’m about to have loads of time on my hands. Only eight more days of school (including this day).

We did have a lovely time. We walked everywhere! All the way down to the Brooklyn Bridge, half-way across, and back.
We ate delicious food. Drank good wine and spirits. People watched in Washington Square Park. And even got shouted at by a creepy homeless guy.

Vintage shops were a disappointment.
But the bookshops were not!
At Strand (18 miles of books, don’tcha know) I found some very cool used books, a brand new one I’m pretty excited about, and bought my very first Moleskine notebook à la Dash and Lily. Only mine is navy instead of red.
At Books of Wonder I drooled over the books in the rare collection. (22K for a first ed. of Where the Wild Things Are signed by Maurice Sendak with a Wild Thing doodle.)
I spent a goodly bit of time choosing a couple books I couldn’t leave without. If I still had a preschool classroom I would have bought more. There were (are) so many books to use as the jumping off point for lesson plans!

I’ve been thinking a great deal about the Thing 2 situation. We still haven’t spoken, though we have exchanged texts. I’m not sure how I can help her in her journey. I’m not sure it’s my place to help her at this point. I do know that “getting yourself together” shouldn’t be a reason not to be together.
I wonder if children have any idea how hurtful the things they do really are. I believe they know instinctively that nothing will make a mother stop loving her child…but I wonder if they understand that one can only bend so long before there is irreparable damage. I wonder this because I don’t know the answers. I wonder this because I know I hurt my mother in my growing up.
It’s hard for an adult child to believe her mom is still protective of her “baby”. That makes sense to me. Only, Thing 1 and I have come to a new place in our relationship. One of mutual love and respect as adults, with a bit of “I need my Mommy” and “I want to protect my baby” sprinkled on top.
A mother’s love has many forms. Looks many ways. Is unpredictable yet constant. That will never change. But it doesn’t mean a child’s words and actions aren’t hurtful. I think even adult children don’t understand that their parents are just human and get their feelings hurt. That realization didn’t really resonate in me until I became a mother.
I don’t know. I love that little girl (yeah, she’s my “little girl” even though she’s about to celebrate her twentieth birthday) but I feel like this must be one of those times of ebb in the great ebb and flow of our love in this life. I hope the tide changes. It hurts more than I ever expected it would.

In the category of ‘getting yourself together’ I’m working on that too. Starting back to school after a three month term break.

Nah, it’s cool. Two more terms and I can wash my hands of this foolishness. Not that a degree is foolish…just I’m so over it. It’s taken much longer than I’d expected and I don’t want to be in this degree program anymore. Only it’s too late to switch to anything else without more courses…
I feel a bit like Marlon Brando in Guys and Dolls. “Stick with me baby I’m the fellow you came in with.” Only it’s not luck…it’s a degree plan.
Whatever. At this point it’s fulfilling a commitment to myself and a means to an end to move into a M.Ed or MSW program.

It seems my thoughts are bouncing around in my head like a pinball today.
You know what? That’s OK.
Let ’em bang around bouncing off each other for a little while.
It might be a great way to start the summer.

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