Posts Tagged With: mothers

cheer up cheerily

Posted on March 19, 2014 by robynbird

It has been a…what’s the word…curious(?) couple of weeks. I have been completely overworked at school, and editing that book, as well as finishing up my school term, not to mention still trying to process my personal feelings about my little friend whose mother died.
But(!) the curiousness is actually the best part!

Robin birds in the spring are a SUPER big deal for me, (Gee, I can’t imagine why.) but since my mom died, I’ve not seen them anywhere near as frequently or in as great of numbers as it seems I always have in the past….and if I have seen one, I’ve been with either Thing 2 or YBW only.
A part of me was relieved I wasn’t seeing them in great big amounts because it was painful, made me miss my Mommie, but a part of me was disappointed, because it is one of my favorite “rites of Spring”. My theory was “God” (by whatever gender or name) kind of knew I wasn’t ready, that was why the sightings were so few and far between, or I was with those particular people.
This year however, I have seen more robin birds than I have been able to count! They’re EVERYWHERE! Even with all this snow, they’re flying and chirping and skibbling all around on the lawns. My joy is immense at hearing their “cheerily cheer up cheer up cheerily”!
It must be time. Either I’m finally healing on own, or Mommie is ‘up there’ pulling strings to make me heal (Of course she would still be trying to boss me around.)

The second ‘wonderful’ aspect of the curious is YBW. I had a total crap day yesterday and he just happened to be home when I came home for lunch, I honestly can’t remember the last time I was that happy to see anyone. He hugged me and I just breathed in his scent and felt so much better straightaway …I was instantly safe and comforted and so very grateful. I was just enough to bolster me to get through the rest of my day.

I went to see the holistic doc and he was worried about my appearance, when I told him I was just worn out, he was worried it was the book. No, my job…the strangest thing…he offered me a job right on the spot! I thought and thought about it…made the pro and con list in my head, talked with Sundance and YBW about it then went to school this morning and met with my director (For three hours!) discussed where my ‘heart is’, made plans for positive changes. I walked into her office completely devoid of hope and walked out three hours later quite full.
Got an email with a new chapter for the book with a note asking me to let him know about the position. I’m going to decline…I know how to run the office because I did it for my doctor before I came here, and it is very seductive to receive all that free healthcare, and there are so many positives, but there are negatives, too…but ultimately, it isn’t where my heart is.
If I am going to leave my school I need to do it in a mindful way, not a reactionary way. I’m not ready yet, my time there isn’t finished.

The robin birds are singing just for me, “cheer up cheerily”.

Oh! P.S. YBW and I are going to the beach the day after tomorrow! Hello, Jewish Mother for breakfast! Yay for YBW and yay for the mini break!

Categories: me | Tags: beach, birds, blessings, book, come to Jesus meeting, early childhood education, early morning, editing, feelings, healing, hope, job, love, mindful, mini break, mothers, new chapter, new job, overworked, peace, reactionary, robin bird, robins, sadness, school, song, spring, the Jewish Mother, VA beach, weekend getaway, where your heart is, worn out | 2 Comments

happy birthday, Thing 1

Posted on March 2, 2014 by robynbird

I completed my second decade of motherhood today.
Thing 1 is twenty, but not until 7:21 this evening to be precise. This is the first year I will not be with her on the anniversary of her birth, I thought it would make me feel more sad, but I guess I’m growing too, accepting that she is a pseudo-adult and her birthdays are no longer about her family of origin, but the new family she is beginning to create for herself with friends and fiancee. (That word still gives me pause.)

I was up very late editing the book and slept until 9:00 waking in a momentary panic that I hadn’t yet called her. In addition to not being with her on this day, this year marks the first time I was not the first person to tell her, Happy Birthday. That fell to N this year, as I suspect it will for years to come.
It doesn’t matter though, for she will always be my baby…my very first girl, the one who was given to me to challenge me to be the best possible me. She and I have had some dark times, but the light was always lit just waiting for it’s time to shine again.

N entered her into a contest in which she won tickets to a bridal show in Savannah…so that is how she’ll spend her 20th birthday…how precious, and how appropriate for her.
My sweet girl is no longer stubbornly fighting her Aunt Sundance and me to wear too small shoes. She is no longer swimming in the pool when the water is 50 degrees simply so she could be the first one in and the last one out at the start and close of our pool season. She is no longer that lost girl trying to understand what to make of her world when I changed it by leaving her dad. She is no longer the girl who hurt herself and came to me desperately begging for help. She’s not even the girl we dropped off at college with her most precious lovey, the little pink doll, Emily who had seen her through all her scariest moments.

She is a woman, one who is beginning to make a real plan for her life, to go back to school and study something she is passionate about, to find a job and make a home, and plan a wedding. She is able to open up and be honest with me about who she is and what she thinks and feels.
She sparkles once again, the way she did when she was small.

Sometimes I worry that she is too jaded, so quick to assess and pass judgment because it can come across as unkind…she’s going to have to learn to temper this, perhaps time and maturity will aid in that. I believe she feels safe enough to be who she really thinks she is, even if she’s a bit brash because I trusted her to make her own opinions and express her creativity…it is very hard to have a strong mother, I suspect she felt she had to fight to be heard instead of trusting in me to hear. Perhaps that is why she is quick to express her opinion without thought of how it might make those around her feel.

She is so bright, and interested in things that boggle my mind, she loves science and math, even though she wasn’t terribly successful in those courses. She is truly an artist who has yet to find her medium.
She has made me so proud, not simply because I’m her mom, but because I know her. Yes, I raised her, I did my best to give her a solid foundation upon which to build her life, but I am savvy enough to know that she has impacted her own character and destiny, and I can honestly say, I am proud to be her mom and proud to know her as a person.

Today is bittersweet for me, that little girl is still inside the interesting woman she’s become, but those times are gone, nothing but nuggets of precious memory, old photographs and an indelible imprint upon my heart.
I accomplished and survived her.
My love for her is knows no bounds.
I am still her “Mommy” but I am also something new.

Categories: love, on being a mom | Tags: adventure, birthday, blessings, celebrate, celebration, daughters, grown women, happiness, happy, happy birthday, joy, little girls, love, motherhood, mothers, parenting, relationships, second decade, twenty years, unconditional love | 4 Comments

missing Mommie

Posted on January 25, 2014 by robynbird

I’ve been experiencing above average feelings of missing my mom the past week or so. I find it sits rather ill with me, this feeling of missing her. I had a…peculiar relationship with her to say the least…with an entire baggage carriage of unresolved issues accumulated over my lifetime. The thing I need to remind myself the most is that these bags would still be packed and loaded in the baggage carriage even if she was still living.
Mommie was not inclined to examine or converse any subject she found distasteful, which could include anything from how to apply eyeliner to why she sent me to live with my absentee dad when I was 15.
YBW always asks questions like, why didn’t you ask her about these things? I’m like, DUDE! What part of me saying she wouldn’t answer a direct question if it somehow displeased her did you not understand?
Oh did I ask questions…like when Thing 1 was in kindergarten and would come home to her mommy and baby sister every day as opposed to when I was in kindergarten and wore a key around my neck on a ribbon and came home to an empty house because I had no dad and a mom who worked fulltime to support my little brother and me.
So one day I said to her: You were really brave, that must have been really scary for you to be so far away at work when I was home by myself in kindergarten.
She replied: I did what I had to do.
Me: Was that hard for you?
Mommie: I had no choice.
Me: No, I guess you didn’t, but I can’t imagine Thing 1 coming home by herself in the middle of the day and not worrying about her. I’m not sure I could be that brave.
Mommie: I knew you were capable.
Me: But you didn’t worry, you weren’t scared for me?
Mommie: I had no choice. I knew you could handle it.
Me: Well, I think you were really brave.
Mommie: I didn’t have a choice.
(Notice anything interesting about this conversation? Like, oh I don’t know, it’s completely one sided?)

Or when I was 17, the time I got a call from a church mom whose little girl I babysat, she wondered if I was still willing to sit for her even though I lived so far away at my dad’s house now…at the end of the call, she asked me if I was excited for my mom… I replied, about what? Then she did that age old dance called the “hem-haw” and finally told me that my brother had stood up in church the week before to share a joy…the joy that his mom was to marry another church member. (I didn’t know the phrase WTF then…but I can assure you I experienced the sensation.)
So I called over Grandaddy’s (my former home) and got my brother on the phone: Anything interesting you want to share?
And for the second time that day I was treated to the “hem-haw” dance…until finally I said: E, I’m not mad just tell me what’s going on…I know what happened in church on Sunday.
He whispered: they made me swear not to tell you. Then out loud he said: Mommie just got home you want to talk to her?
His face must have told the story because she got on the phone: I wanted to tell you in person.
Me: But not before you let E tell the whole congregation. You can’t pick up the phone?
Mommie: I wanted to tell you in person.
Me: But you didn’t. Who are you even marrying?
Mommie told me and I was only vaguely aware of this human being…then she decided I should come over for that weekend and then I could meet him. And then she dropped the big bomb…she wanted me to be her maid of honor when they got married.
To her it was OK that I was in the dark, E knew…E was permitted to develop a relationship with this man…E was asked for his opinion and approval before she decided to say yes. E was to “give her away” to this man. But I was not even given the consideration of a phone call. (I suspect I sound petulant, I didn’t feel petulant or even slighted, I just didn’t understand.)

And the time I dared to ask the most important question…seeking the answer to the event that changed my entire life. (I asked this as an adult.)
Why did you send me to Daddy’s?
And she said: I thought you needed your father.
Me: The father who left me when I was five?
To which she said: NOTHING.
So I went on: What about Grandaddy? What about E? Did they have a say? Why didn’t you talk to me? Did you even talk to Daddy about it or did you just decree it? How do you just kick someone to the curb like that?
To which she said: NOTHING.
Me: Mommie, don’t you think I should finally be allowed to understand what happened?
Mommie: No. It’s over now so there’s no need to bring it up.

All I know is how it happened, after spending a week of so at my dad’s the summer after my freshman year, I called my mom and said, I’m ready to come home, will you get me on your way home from work?
All she said was: you’re not coming home.
She unceremoniously packed up by belongings in big black garbage bags and had them waiting on the front porch for me to pick up. I wasn’t even allowed to go into the house. I never got to hug my Grandaddy or E.

Daddy has since told me that she called him and said: if you don’t take her I’m sending her to a home.
There is a part of me that considers this could be the truth, but my dad has an affinity towards exaggeration so I’m not sure I’ll ever know.

My mom was sick for a long time before she told anyone. She was hospitalized for 18 days with pneumonia before she would “let” her husband call me to tell me they found cancerous cells in her lungs because “she didn’t want to tell me unless they knew what it was”. She died seventeen days later. Seventeen days.
I was able to go see her, to be with her for a few precious days between the two phone calls. I was shocked to see her so sick, it was the first time in my life that her body was not bigger than mine, the first time in my life that I held her and she didn’t hold me. The first time in my life I realized how stupid I’d been thinking things would always be one way and never considering they would be a completely different way. I was desperately clinging to my concept of myself as child even though I am a parent, thinking that 40 simply wasn’t old enough to not have a mom anymore.
I was blessed with that time with her, none of our baggage was unpacked but I got to love her in an entirely new way. I was blessed because she was still her, I made a snide remark and she shot me her ‘mom look’ the one that used to frighten me so, but this time I laughed and said, you don’t scare me, you’re dying and you’re still trying to scare me into submission. She intensified the look and I smiled, at her leaned over and kissed her emaciated face and said softly, OK, maybe you scared me a little. She nodded her head and made a little “hmph” noise. She was Mommie even though she was sick and frail and could hardly breathe she was that terrible, tyrannical admiral who was the irrefutable boss of us all. She told me to go home and be a mommy.
(Things 1 and 2 had three nights of play at school, and their dad was going to his Goddaughter’s wedding out of state, and even though Thing 1 could cook and drive, nobody was comfortable with them being home alone.)

When I left my Mommie, I knew it was for the last time and I hugged and kissed her and laid in her bed all snuggled up to her and I said: I’m going to come back next week but if you’re not here, that’s OK. You go where you need to go because you’ll always be my Mommie and I’ll always love you. (And that was when the tears finally came even though I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cry in front of her.)
She put her hand on my face and said: Don’t cry, baby.
I took a big breath and held it for a moment before I said: You go where you’re going and when you get there you tell my Grandaddy I miss him.
She smiled and nodded and for the last time she said: I love you, baby.

That was Tuesday, I was planning to go back down on Sunday after the show closed and the Things dad came back from the wedding, but I got the call at 8 that morning from her husband who was so broken up I almost didn’t understand him. I was all ready to get in the car and go when he requested he be able to be with her alone when she died. I respected their love and did as he asked. This is the one thing in my life I regret. I know now I should have been there when she died. Not really for her, though partly, but for myself. I needed to do that for both of us, but didn’t because I was trying to be kind to him.

The one thing that comforts me about those two phone calls is YBW. I was up here for the weekend when I got the first call, and though I left messages for Sundance and the Things dad, YBW was the first person I told live. I was here for a few hours before he got home and already in bed, when he got into be he hugged me and kissed my hair, and I said: my mom has cancer. I can’t talk about it right now but I had to say it out loud.
He held me close and let me fall asleep.
He was down there with me the weekend the second call came, he had come to see the play and we were just waking up when the phone rang. He was helpless and I was manic, but he was there and I will always remember the importance of that.

My “Mommie” baggage carriage will never be unloaded but I’ve parked it in a siding so I don’t have to haul it around with me every single day. Sometimes I allow myself to go into it and rifle through the bags, because there is good stuff packed in there along with the not so good.
I miss her because I want to tell her things only she will find amusing, like how Good Guys is closed and the building is up for lease…Sundance and I are the only ones left who understand the humor in that. I want to tell her things about the Things. I want to share how wonderful my life with YBW is…she never even met him.
My two year old friends at school always reassure each other that mommies and daddies ALWAYS come back when they’re suffering separation anxiety. I agree with them saying: yes, mommies always come back. But I always think: except mine. (Perhaps you’re never too old to experience separation anxiety.)

I’m much older than my mom was when her mother died and I’m older than my beloved sister-in-law was when hers died. I guess I really miss the idea of having a mom.
That concept of comfort a mom provides. It’s funny because I would experience moments of “I want my Mommie” when she was still living even though I knew full well she wouldn’t bring me any comfort.
She was critical and bitter and she was closed off and she fought for constant control, but she loved me. I’d stake anything on that. She loved me and I felt and continue to feel it. I didn’t know her, I surely don’t understand her…but I love her.

I have worked to show my girls who I am, so they never experience the same feelings about me that I have about her.
Thing 1 was probably her favorite of her three granddaughters. Thing 1 was her first grandbaby and I believe the most precious, she loved Thing 2 and my niece Thing D, but I’ve never thought she loved them the way she loved Thing 1. One day, years ago while riding in the car Thing 1 asked me a biblical question which I could partially answer, then I suggested she call Grandmommy and ask her. She did right there in the car, got the rest of her answer and when she hung up she said: Grandmommy is awesome. I’m sorry you don’t really like her.
(WHOA!)
I said: I love Grandmommy very much it’s just a complicated relationship. I don’t really know her very well so it feels kind of hard to like her. She doesn’t really comfort me like I hope a mommy would comfort her child which is hard, but I know she loves me and I love her.
Thing 1 was quiet for a moment and then she said: I’m sorry Grandmommy doesn’t comfort you Mommy, because I can’t imagine how awful it would be if you didn’t comfort me. You always make me feel better when anything is bad. You’re very good at comforting.
Then almost under her breath she said: Thing 2 and I are really lucky you’re our mommy.

I realize this has been kind of chaotic jumping all over the place but that’s how it goes when I think about my mom. The feelings of love are inexplicably linked to the feelings of pain and disappointment. I have worked to raise my girls in a more authentic environment…one where they see that I’m a real person I’m not a dictator, though I’ve held ultimate veto power, I’m a real woman who was a real girl who made mistakes and good choices and tried to learn from each. I’m flawed and that doesn’t matter because I’ve worked to be the best mom I can be, to give them the best of me but not keep the worst from them. I have been more intimate with them than my mom probably ever was with anyone in her life. They know me…at least I hope they do, I’ve tried to help them learn why and how I’m me. Perhaps they have baggage carriages labeled with my name, but they know we can unpack them together or they’ve been given the tools to unpack them by alone. Perhaps.

I’d like to miss my mom in a less painful way. I’d like to just miss her because I’m selfish and no longer have her in my life. But that isn’t how it is for me. I miss her for every opportunity we lost to become close, I miss her for every time she chose to “protect me” instead of trust me.
I miss her for all the silliness we experienced together, dancing to Elvis records when I was a tiny girl, the crazy ER doctor when I broke my fingers, the infamous road trip involving cows, changing clothes while driving, and Lucy Ricardo’s saxafifatronaphonovich, or the penis shaped popsicle mold she just had to have because she was amused by it.
I miss her for the moment she actually did comfort me, when she held me in her lap in the rocking chair when my beloved kitty of 16 years died.
I miss her for the relationship she didn’t let us have…and for the one we did have.

I’m indulging myself by feeling sad, by missing her.
She wouldn’t have the patience for this. She would yank me up and hiss in my ear: stop this! Be strong. Keep your head down and just go.
I fight the impulse to say those words to myself. I’ve learned I need to be talked to differently. I’ve learned it’s acceptable to indulge myself. I keep my emotions under constantly tight control because that’s what I was taught. But I asked why one time too many and learned only I could answer that.
So occasionally I indulge myself and open the baggage carriage and spend time unpacking…I let the tears come. I allow myself to feel every little thing I feel I accept these feelings and honor them. Then I pack everything back up in what I image are beautiful antique steamer trunks and gorgeous old traveling bags then lock the baggage carriage behind me and just go.
(It is not lost on me she would be horrified I’ve written all this, but she would enjoy the train carriage analogy and it makes me smile.)

Categories: death, loss, love, me, on being a mom | Tags: baggage carriage, blessings, daughters, death, feelings, grief, loss, love, mothers, mothers and daughters, relationships, sadness, saying goodbye, silliness, unconditional love, unpacking | 6 Comments

walking on eggshells

Posted on January 15, 2014 by robynbird

Thing 2 has been here since Thursday…I’ve experienced feelings alternating between “pants-peeing” happiness and bone crushing anxiety.
There are moments when she’s engaged and her sassiness is a joy to behold, we’ve had serious fun together…

Over all I’m honestly glad I got to see her after all this time…but it feels icky.
As though something has broken between us and is irreparable. We will never be the way we were…I can only hope we’ll be able to find a new way to be together.
I’ve broached the subject with her about the awkwardness between us and she begins her response with something to the effect of: I can see some of your points, but I just think we should let it run its course. So I asked if was that she just didn’t care enough to try to fix it or was it just not that important to her.
And then there was no more discussion. So after a while I asked if the conversation was over and she asked what I wanted her to say.

I’m so tired of feeling anxious, I wonder if she also feels anxious…and if so, is she tired too?
When something is broken it must either be fixed or…well…thrown away, I guess. I’m unwilling to throw away my Thing 2…but I can’t fix it all by myself.
So I wait…and trust that one day I won’t be the only one who wants to fix what’s broken.

Categories: on being a mom | Tags: angst, anxiety, daughters, love, motherhood, mothers, mothers and daughters, parenting, relationships, teenagers, unconditional love | 4 Comments

the giving of thanks

Posted on December 1, 2013 by robynbird

I’m not the biggest fan of Thanksgiving…some people say that makes me un-American…I say whatever. I’m thankful every single day for what I have in my life, the people, the love, the joys, even the sadness…they’re mine, you know? And I’m grateful.
So that one day, that day of giving thanks, well I feel as though I’ve got that pretty much covered. To me Thanksgiving Day is simply an excuse for gluttony…and I don’t really eat all that much.

That said, I have to tell you I had the most wonderful holiday weekend! With YBW’s family on Thanksgiving Day, Sundance, Girlie Thing, and Boy Thing on Friday, and my cousin and her family today. Best of all, my own precious Thing 1 has been here with us and Thanksgiving is her absolute favorite holiday! (I suspect because of the gluttony.)
Thing 1 reverted to her goofy child-self around her cousins and Girlie Thing and Boy Thing, she and Boy Thing have always had a special relationship, and when they were together it’s as though not a moment has passed since they saw each other last. She was so smiley and kind of jumpy and very much like she was when she was a little blonde pigtailed girl. So precious to see!

She’s followed me around the house like she’s done since she began to walk…interestingly enough, it doesn’t annoy me, I’m so used to it even though we’ve not been in the same house for so long. She literally follows me everywhere I go, just far enough behind me that she’s not touching me but close enough that I can occasionally feel her breath in my hair. She has always done this, and it amuses me more than anything.
I’ve been so pleased to have my girl with me…she been here 12 days and just stared to annoy me…a reminder of how much better she and I get along when we’re in different places. I think the thing that annoys me about her is that she spends so much time talking about how she’s a “grown-up” but behaves like a little girl…I’m not sure what that means exactly, but I’m not ready for her to leave just yet and that makes me happy.

Sundance has decreed we three must go on a wedding dress hunt…that Sundance and I will eat peanut M&M’s al la Sally Albright while Thing 1 models wedding gowns. Honestly the very thought of this makes me queasy, but Thing 1 is nearly “pants peeing” excited about this little field trip. How can I say no? Perhaps this is…what? Shock therapy? (Whatever it is I vote for champagne and not M&M’s!)

Thing 1 had her Christmas yesterday morning since she’ll be down with her fiancé’s family for Christmas…YBW was kind of tickled that she got so much My Little Pony stuff. (Yeah, my Things and I are Bronies…no shame in our game.) She got new sassy boots and some clothes, funky socks and an antique perfume bottle, and American Girl doll and pony things…she is that peculiar combination of little girl and woman.

Having my girl here in my new home with me has reinforced my gratitude and made me oh so happy!
I don’t need turkey and all the trimmings to celebrate my thanks…just folks to shower with love.

Categories: love, on being a mom | Tags: daughters, family, fun, gluttony, happy, home, love, motherhood, mothers, parenting, sharing, thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Day, wedding dress shopping | Leave a comment

so…Thing 1 has a ring on her finger

Posted on November 9, 2013 by robynbird

Sundance called me Wednesday evening, “so your daughter is getting married.”
“What?” (I may have actually said, shut the f@*k up! but I just can’t remember.)
“She changed her Facebook status to ‘engaged’.”
“Yeah, I’m going to call you back.”

Ring ring…
“Hi Mommy!”
“Uh…anything you want to tell me?”
She giggled. (She FREAKING giggled!?!) “I sent you the picture.”

“Yeah, you always send me pictures of you trying on rings while you’re out piddling around…how was I to know what that was? Dude! Aunt Sundance just called me because she saw it on Facebook! You don’t think this news warrants a phone call?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re SORRY!?! I’m your mommy, you don’t send a picture via mass text and change your Facebook status, you pick up the phone.”
“I’m sorry, Mommy.”
“Well, tell me all about it!”
More giggling, “what do you mean?”
(I might kill her.)
“How did it happen? Was it a surprise? How do you like the ring? I don’t know, something more than…nothing.”
“Well N said, “(Thing 1’s full name), will you be my wife?” and I said yes!” Then she described the ring in great detail.
“Holy shit.” (And not just once.)
“Mommy, why do you keep saying holy shit?”
“I’m so sorry bear, I’m in shock. When that goes away the excitement will kick in, you just gotta give me a minute.” (I knew I needed to rope it in a bit so I didn’t freak her out.) Are you happy, baby?”
“Yes!”
“I love you, and if you’re happy, I am happy too.”
(Can hear the smile in her voice.) “Thank you, Mommy.”
“Is there a date?”
“Oh at least a year.”
(Thank God!)
“And I’m going to go back to school before we get married too, you’ll be proud of me, I made a good plan.” (My Thing 1 is a ‘dive right in’ kind of girl so for her to have a plan is a seriously big deal.)
“I have to say this because I’m the mommy, and mommies have to say the things nobody wants to hear, you are very young and that worries me.”
“I know, but we’re waiting, so it’s OK.”
Then there was the, I’m so glad you’re happy and excited and can’t wait to see the ring next week…blah blah blah. Then the I love yous and good bye.

HOLY SHIT!
My 19 year old daughter is engaged to be married! I’m going to throw up!

Sundance said Thing 1 told her at least a year, maybe two…this eases me a bit.
YBW said, “This is the beginning of her living her own life.” (Easy for him to say…his 20 year old isn’t coming home with a girl who’s got a ring on her finger.)

I am so happy my Thing 1 is happy. N is doing a really good job showing that he wants to love her and take good care of her and she is really happy.
He is her first real boyfriend. He is the first person she’s ever slept with. He is more than 10 years older than she is.
I have absolutely no control over any of this.
She is me all those long years ago, marrying a man so much older than me, who was going to take care of me and give me babies to raise…until the world fell apart.
I want better for Thing 1 than I had…
YBW reminds me that she isn’t me and N isn’t the former husband.
I remind myself she is blissfully happy and who am I to try and damage that with my anxiety.

Interestingly enough, I was flipping channels at lunchtime on Friday, (I almost never turn on the TV.) and Say Yes to the Dress (Atlanta) was on…it was tyrant/dictator mom day…nasty, hateful moms who were just horrid to their bridey daughters and I thought I will not be that mom, I spent the last 20 years trying to do what was best for her and part of that is letting her decide what she likes and what pleases her.
I will trust that I did a good enough job…that she’s got the ability to make decent choices…and I will simply find her joy and participate in it.

Here’s the thing, she might be happy from now until the end of time…or it might blow up in her face, but she’s the only one who can decide.

Is this the choice I would have made for her? No. I would have wanted her to live a bit more…to become the woman she’s going to be first before she attached her life to another person. Only it’s not up to me. It’s her life now…the days of little blonde pigtails and Eloise books are long gone, she’ll hit her second decade in a few short months and she is going to make the decisions that shape her adult life. I can only love her and smile at her happiness.
And fight the overwhelming urge to vomit.

Think there’s such a thing as “happy for you vomit”?
God I hope not.

Categories: love, on being a mom | Tags: anxiety, daughters, diamonds, engaged, engagement rings, happy, love, mother of the bride, motherhood, mothers, parenting, wedding bells | Leave a comment

Thing 1 says

Posted on September 27, 2013 by robynbird

A curious thing happened…

Thing 1 called me this week specifically to ask a question, but also have a chat. We discussed her question and then moved on to our chat. Somehow, Christmas came up…she told me it’s her boyfriend’s family’s big holiday and she was thinking she’d go there with him. I said, “Well your sister has decided not to come here for Christmas like we planned so I’m not sure how that’s going to affect your decision.”
She said she assumed that was what was happening and then VERY quickly said, “I’m staying out of it. It doesn’t have anything to do with me and I don’t want to be in the middle of it.”
I replied, “Oh I understand. It directly affects me and I don’t want to be in the middle of it.”
She told me her daddy called her that first day as soon as he got off the phone with me. (This struck me as odd, but we’ll get to that in a minute.)
She went on to tell me she spoke with Thing 2 to check and see how she was.
I said, “I’m not going to ask you what Daddy said because it’s none of my business, but I am confused as to why he called you.”
She said, “Mommy you need to know Thing 2 doesn’t hate you. She loves you very much.” (This was almost too much to bear.)
She asked, “Do you want to know what I think? I think it was very stressful for all of us when you and Daddy split up, and we were all exhausted. And I think Thing 2 doesn’t want to be stuck in the middle anymore. I don’t think you guys meant to, like intentionally, but you kind of used us to get at each other.” (This is when I almost had apoplexy.)
She went on to say Thing 2 is happy getting to do what she wants because Daddy is never home and you’re not there anymore and she can just chill. (Chill? No, she’s loving the fact her dad treats her like a roommate instead of behaving like a parent and I’m not there holding her accountable. Sorry…I digressed there.)
She said that Thing 2 just needed a break. Then she said, “Mommy, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, this is just what I think.”
I said, “Bear, you are not hurting my feelings. I appreciate your point of view. I need to tell you something very sincerely and need you to please listen equally sincerely.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“I have never intentionally used you or your sister to hurt your daddy. I have never manipulated either of you or him. In fact, I once told your daddy that I would sacrifice everything and walk away from you both to save you from that ever happening to you.”
There was a loooong pause…and then a very quiet, “Oh.” Then I heard her take a deep breath before she said, “I’m so sorry, Mommy, because I know now I did hurt your feelings.”
“No you didn’t. I just need you to know that my intentions have always been pure when it came to you and your sister, I have always put your best interests above everything else.”
“Thank you, Mommy.”

Then interestingly enough…both YBW and her boyfriend showed up simultaneously thousands of miles apart and changed the dynamic. So we said hello to the guys for each other, expressed our love and got off the phone.

Wasn’t that a peculiar bit of insight?

WHY IN THE HOLY HELL DID THEIR FATHER IMMEDIATELY GET ON THE PHONE TO THING 1 AFTER TALKING TO ME???

This has plagued me to no end.
Not to mention the fact that I know who the master manipulator really is. (And it ain’t me!)
Here’s the beauty of the way he functions…he has no conscious clue he does it, he just does! He couldn’t hurt me directly…he had no power to do that…what he had was access to the two people I love most on this planet. And THAT was where he went to work. He was able to manipulate them without their knowledge to hurt me. He used them to hurt me and punish me for hurting him. He was able to watch me suffer and never had to lift a finger.
And why does he get to be with Thing 2 and I do not if she needs a break from BOTH her “manipulating” parents? (I am fully aware I was being immature right there but my kid thinks I did something horrible to her and I DIDN’T!)
Why had I chosen to be blind for all that time? To make a choice to ignore who he really was?
For many long years I have wondered if I could trust him…but now I know I absolutely cannot.

(I didn’t want to shout at YBW about this situation even though it would have been safe to do so, and I didn’t want to talk with Sundance about it because sometimes she and I create a maelstrom that’s hard to escape and I already needed to be less insane about this situation.)

I wanted to write my daughters’ father a letter, one where he could see it in black and white…a letter that said nothing but “I statements”. (I don’t understand this, I am confused by this, I feel sad when I think or hear this…) I was not about to throw accusations or blame…I was going to make it all about me.
But fate intervened in the form of my friend and mentor.
She said, “Do nothing. You raised your girls beautifully and they will see everything one day. They will see you consistently took the high road over and over again. They will see your grace and dignity. He is what he is, a product of his environment, he is somehow emotionally stunted and you can see with your kind heart.”
WOW.
That struck a chord deep within me and I know she’s right.

So I stop and I breathe.
I trust Thing 1 and I trust Thing 2. But most importantly I trust myself.
As much as I hate being on the journey I will admit knowing I’m on the high road makes it a bit less arduous. Surely the high road will get me to my destination sooner or later.