The Week That Was

 
May is always a super busy month. I mean, every month is busy but May is especially hectic. There are the band, gymnastics and dance obligations for the children but also the end of the year celebrations, award ceremonies, doctors appointments and parties. My calendar is upsetting. This upcoming week should be the last REALLY bad week and then I should get a little bit of a reprieve.
Me at the start of the month vs. me at the end of the month:

Our youngest scored a 23 on the science portion of her ACT so she was eligible for Duke Tip which is a academic talent search program. She got an invitation to go to the state ceremony at Furman University which is a little over 3 hours away. It was during the school day and we went back and forth about it. We decided to go. In your life, there are few times that you get celebrated. They are few and far between. We could do it so why not?

We were going to take our oldest too but she had a spring concert. SHIT! We looked at the timeline. The ceremony was a 2. If we left by 3:30, we could make it back in time for her 7 pm Spring Concert if traffic cooperated. That's what we were going to do.

It was nice to have a special day with our youngest. We drove up and we all took turns picking songs. One of her songs was "Sex Bomb" by Tom Jones. She knew all the words to it. Weird choice for a 7th grader living in this decade but whatever.

                                      
We went to my favorite Thai restaurant in Greenville, which she was so excited about. She ordered a dish with squid in it. Again, weird choice for a 7th grader but okay. The child has expensive tastes. I think she liked having her mom and her dad all to herself.

We got to the venue and when we walked in, staff was setting out cookies and lemonade for the reception after the ceremony. "I'm getting a cookie," I told my husband. "We're not going to have time," he replied. "Yes, we will," I insisted. Our daughter was ushered down to the floor and we took our seats. We looked around. We were definitely the youngest parents by like, 10 years. That happens to us a lot, which is fine - we did it to ourselves. But sometimes it gets kind of old.

I hate when my kid's friends parents ask how old I am because when I tell them, I feel like they look at me like I'm an actual infant:
                                           
                                          Hey! I'm a mom too. Our kids are in the same class.

They started the ceremony a few minutes late. A speaker came up and spoke to the children about academics and their future. They were saying things like, "These are the future doctors and lawyers. These are the bright minds of the future that will solve the world's problems. These children will one day be our leaders." Wow. No pressure. Meanwhile, my child is like, "I want to join the Air Force and learn how to shoot a gun."

My child is the quintessential GT kid. Super bright, straight As without even trying but it's a blessing
and a curse at the same time. I think kids that are very smart sometimes feel different and they have very high expectations of themselves. They are told that they are "special" from a young age and there is a lot of pressure associated with that. It's been an adventure.

                        
After the speech, they called the kids up to give them their medals. We watched them all line up and they called names. It was kind of like graduation. We watched our kid go up and we were so happy for her. The time started creeping to 3:00 pm, then 3:05  and now I'm starting to get anxious because we need to leave and also, I wanted my cookie.

They are calling these kids names and they are slowly sauntering up to get their medals. I'm like, C'MON Oliver and Laura, let's have a sense of urgency!!!! It ends at 3:18. My husband turns to me and says, "We don't have time for refreshments." What the hell did you just say to me? "I paid $80, so I'm getting my damn cookie," I replied. There was an Indian guy sitting next to my husband who gave me a look like I was white trash. Jokes on him, I am white trash and do not care AT ALL.

We met up with our youngest to congratulate her and she was happy. We go out to the lobby and it was packed. I looked at my husband, "You grab the cookies, I'll grab the lemonade and I'll meet you outside." I got the lemonades and waited outside for my husband.

He shows up and hands me an oatmeal raisin cookie.
                 
I was enraged. I'm sorry but only old people and serial killers like oatmeal raisin cookies. We've been together for more than 18 years, COME ON. You know I hate oatmeal raisin. I said, "I'm going back in." He looked at me like I was crazy. "We don't have time," he said.

"Go to the car, I'll meet you there," I replied. I went back in and there was a hoard of people. I'm small, tiny, child-size. I was going to use it to my advantage. It's gotta be good for something. I bobbed and weaved through the other, much larger adults and grabbed a sugar cookie and then ran out of there. It only took me 3.5 seconds. I was proud.

We got to the car and we drove straight home. We weren't going to stop, we were going to make the concert just in time. When we got into town, we were hitting every red light. My husband was stressing out. "It'll be fine. The director will talk for 5 minutes before anyhow, so we have a buffer." The concert started at 7:00 pm and we parked at 6:58 and RAN in.

I walked into the auditorium, which was already dark. I could see my daughter on stage. She looked anxious and she was scanning the room looking for us. I held out my arm and waved it, hoping she could see me. She did. She gave me a small smile and immediately exhaled and relaxed in her chair. We had made it. On time.

Some parents don't come to any of their kids events. She has friends whose parents show up to NOTHING but if we are late or God forbid, missed an event, we would not hear the end of it. The band played beautifully and I was so proud.

We got home late. I was tired. I worked, I cleaned. I got ready for the next few days. The next morning my youngest had a doctors appointment and then we had the band banquet and dance recital rehearsal. Saturday my oldest had an audition in the morning and her dance recital in the afternoon.

I loved seeing her on stage. She did a beautiful job. My youngest started gymnastics when she was 7 and loved it. That has been her sport and she has dedicated her years to it. My oldest was not that way. We tried every activity. Karate, recreational gymnastics, cheerleading, a very short softball stint. I will let the kids explore anything they want. If they came to me and said, "I think I want to try basket weaving," I'll be on the Google looking for a basket weaving class. LOL. My oldest tried a lot of things but she never found her place.

She came to me in the spring at the end of 5th grade with a dance flyer. "I want to try dance," she said. So, like everything else, I signed her up and she tried dance. It's hard to go into something like dance as an older kid. Many of the other children had been dancing their whole lives. I was worried about it. But she loved it. She stayed with it and she's good.

Band and music is her #1 but there is a special place in her heart for dance. She enjoys it and it is fun for her. She only dances half the year now because she has really dedicated herself to marching band. That's okay. Every year at recital time, it reminds me of how far she has come as a person and I am proud of her.

I'm exhausted, my kids drive me CRAZY but honestly, I know I will look back on these busy years as a great time in my life. That keeps me going. I love them.

                                     

A Tree Without Roots

                                      
Today is Mother's Day. It has never been an easy day for me. I always feel on edge on Mother's Day and my birthday. Not sad or upset - more like someone came in and rearranged all my furniture. Everything is here but something just doesn't seem quite right.

I do not know my biological mother. I've only laid eyes on her 5 times in over 30 years. I don't know very much about her at all. Only that she was 17 when I was born, that she was beautiful, that she was very smart, that she loved the Grateful Dead, and that she volunteered at the Special Olympics once. I only have a few pictures of her. A handful of us together - all of them when I was an infant. I really have no memories of her at all.

I was raised by my father and step-mother. They were always very careful not to say anything bad about her when I was young. They really didn't mention her very much at all and if they did it was, "She loves you, she wanted you, she just can't take care of you." There were no cards or phone calls. I took their word for it. She was almost like a mythical creature, my mother. Like the Loch Ness monster- there had been sightings but was she even real at all? Did she exist?

My father re-married when I was 6 years old and my step-mother raised me as her own. She is the only mom I have ever known. I have a deep respect for her and I owe her tremendously. It must not be easy to love children that are not your own. My parents did the very best they could to forge some semblance of a family for us. There were three children brought into that marriage. My brother and I, motherless and my step-sister, fatherless. They had one child together.

Looking back, I never remember missing my mother. How can you miss something that you never had? I did not mourn for her but for as long as I can remember, I have felt completely alone in the world. I learned at a very young age that people leave and never come back. I don't think there is anything that anyone could have done to make that reality better. There is nothing that my parents could have done or said to dull the sting. All the love in the entire world could not take that truth away from me.

There is a special pain that comes from having an absent parent. It is a pain that you cannot possibly understand unless you have lived it. You hear about deadbeat dads all the time, but rarely mothers. Mothers love their children differently. They usher life into the world. Their children's hearts beat inside of their body. Mothers are supposed to stay.

The idea of family is complicated for me. My brother looks just like my father. They are a father and son. My sisters look like my step-mother, and people would remark at that. They are tall and pretty and a reflection of her. I would always get comments about why I didn't look like them, or jokes about being switched at birth or being the runt of the litter. It was pretty clear that one of these things is not like the others. And although my family did not make me feel this way, I always felt like I was second-hand, like I didn't belong, like I didn't quite fit. I would see friends with their mothers, and my mom with her own children and I wondered what that was like- to be connected with someone that closely.

I stopped being sad when I was 12 years old. I just accepted that it was what it was. What else could I do? I learned to let go then.  I learned to accept the things I could not change. It was an important lesson and it's served me well in life. I let go of things and people very easily.

I became pregnant when I was 19. My husband was so excited but I was conflicted. The entire idea of motherhood was concerning for me, I had so much baggage attached to word. When I found out I was having a girl, I was so overwhelmed. I had to be a mother to a daughter. How could I do that? I wasn't raised by my own mother, her mother didn't raise her, and HER mother didn't raise her. I come from a long line of women with very complicated relationships with their mothers.

I remember feeling her move inside of me for the first time, and rubbing my belly as it grew. I loved her already. I talked to her, and I sang, and I dreamed all the dreams for her, and I prayed HARD.

She made me a mother on a steamy July afternoon. They placed her on my chest and she cried the tiniest, sweetest cry I'd ever heard.  I PROMISED that I would never leave. I promised her that I would give her everything that I had, I promised her that I would try to make her life beautiful and that she would always feel safe and loved. Always.

She was a part of me. I never put her down, would never leave her. Like NEVER. I needed her just as much as she needed me. Then, my youngest was born. Another girl. That baby made me so happy and complete. I also NEVER left her. The child was on my hip until she was 7 years old.

Because I did not grow up with my mother, I make sure not to take anything for granted. I want to be with them, to know them, to be close to them. I will be there in all their endeavors because in some ways I am making up for lost time. I feel like it is a HUGE honor to be with my children and I will never take it for granted. Just look at me, having custody of my kids and sh*t, I'm really killing it in the mothering department.
                    

My children have brought me so much joy. We've had so many wonderful times together. I have so many great memories of rocking them to sleep at night, bubble baths, reading books in bed, blowing bubbles and pushing them on the swings. We've taken trips, had picnics, laid in the grass and watched falling stars. I've watched them grow up and I haven't missed a thing.

I look at my family- me, my husband, my daughters, and I can see myself reflected when I look into their faces and I know that we belong together. It has healed me tremendously.

There are still times though when it will hit me out of the blue. Like when I tell stories to my children. Even now they LOVE to hear me recall their births and what they were like when they were young. I tell them about the first time they moved inside of me, the way that they smelled when I held them close to me, and the things that made them smile, how we spent our days together. You know, the minute details that only mothers remember. The moments we burn into our memories because we know that our time together is fleeting. There are no stories like that for me.

Or the time I was volunteering in my daughter's third grade class. I volunteered every Monday. I would make copies for her teacher and I would quiz all the kids on their vocab words. One day, as I was packing up, the teacher put on an audio book and the kids followed along at their desks. In the story, there was a little girl whose mother left and she was musing about how she would know if her mother came back because she was afraid she wouldn't even recognize her. I had to excuse myself and I went to my car and cried like a little bitch. It triggered me.

When my grandfather was dying, I desperately wanted to go to him but I could not bear to leave the children. My husband was trying to convince me to go- that it would be okay, that he would take care of everything. "I just don't want them to think I'm leaving them," I said. He was so tender to me. "Honey, they don't know that mothers leave and don't come back."

I admire my husband. I don't think that I'm particularly easy to love. You have to find something to do with those feelings. Some people drown them in drugs, alcohol, food or sex. Others, detach. That's how I cope. I don't let other people get close to me. I am a little disconnected emotionally from other human beings. I don't trust other people or their intentions. When anyone tries to love me or get close to me I am like:
                               
I am a girl with a brick wall built up all around me and he has spent nearly two decades to get to me- taking it down brick by brick. I am grateful for that. When we were young, I think he thought he could fix me. But I am not some broken thing. He is patient with me, he tries to understand. He walks beside me. He reminds me that I'm not alone in the world (I smile, but never agree).  He's made life easy. I am fortunate to have him.

 This "thing" is part of who I am, but it does not define me. I would never want anyone to feel sorry for me because I do not feel sorry for myself. I am not damaged. I am not a mistake. I am here for a reason. I would not change a thing about my life. Everything has happened the way that it should have. My life is good, it has been a beautiful and wonderful adventure. This is my story, my reality and I have accepted it and made peace with it.

I am not angry at my mother. What purpose would that even serve? Surely, she has suffered enough already. A mother without her children is a miserable thing. I imagine her pain is very real. She was young, she had her own struggles, she has her own story and her own reasons. People make mistakes, the world is an imperfect place. I am certain that she wanted me, that she loved me. In some ways, by staying away, it was easier. It allowed me stability when I was growing up. That was a gift. She gave me life and for that, I am grateful.

I would hope that she would find solace in the fact that I am happy. I am okay. My life is better than I ever imagined it would be. I have been loved. Isn't that what we want most for our children? I know that is what I would want for my own daughters.

I asked my oldest daughter a while ago what it's like to be with her parents her whole life. That seems like an foreign concept- for your mother and father to be with you the entire time. Every birthday, every holiday, every mundane day. She looked at me like it was the strangest question in the word. Then she shrugged and said, "I don't know. Normal, I guess."

Hmmmm. Normal. I asked her to come to me and hug me. She did. Then she laid down next to me and started telling me about something. I wasn't really paying attention. I just laid my head in her hair and breathed her in. She smelled like vanilla. She belongs to me.

I picked up my youngest from gym last week and as I was signing her out, her coach said, "You're such a cool mom." I was suspicious. I didn't do anything cool. "Why is that?" I asked. "You host New Years Eve party's for your kids friends. My mom would never do that." I laughed, "Well, they want to be with their friends and I want to be with them so that makes everyone happy."

I walked out with my daughter and we chatted about our days. "I think it's hilarious that your coach things I'm a cool mom," I said. She looked up and smiled at me and said, "You're a great mom." That was music to my ears. She belongs to me.

I wish all the mothers a Happy Mother's Day. Not just moms like me but mothers who are missing their children, and stepmothers who are doing the best they can to love children who do not belong to them, and mothers who have complicated relationships with their children, and mothers whose own mothers have passed away. May you feel loved, appreciated and most of all, strong.

First Job

My 14 year old is a busy girl. She's been wanting to get a job. She applied at Publix in December but they were hiring closers. She tried to get a babysitting gig with no success. I don't understand why she is so gung-ho about it. I don't think she needs to work. She's young and has a full plate already but I support her 100%.

She was invited to participate in All-County Orchestra and last month she had a rehearsal on the other side of the county. It was a crazy day and we were pressed for time, so we stopped at Chikfila for dinner. We ordered our food and then sat down to eat and chat. After a few minutes, she just got up and walked off. I thought she went to the bathroom. She came back with an application. "You're applying for a job?" I asked. She shrugged, "Yeah, I just got this feeling like I'm supposed to work here. At THIS Chikfila."
                           
"It would be the perfect job for you since you already know the entire menu," I told her. Seriously, she is obsessed with Chikfila. She does study group at Chikfila, she hangs out with her youth group friends at Chikfila, anytime she wants a treat - she wants to go to Chikfila.

I didn't want her to get her hopes up because she is only 14, plus she'd have to tell them about her crazy band schedule. But, you never know. She handed in the application and off we went.

A few days later, she got an email for a group interview. She was so excited. Then they called her back for a one-on-one interview, and then another one-on-one interview. It was an intense 2 weeks because the waiting inbetween was excruciating. It was like Survivor - will she make it or be voted off the island?

Then they called her and offered her the job and she was OVER THE MOON! I was super happy for her. The next day she came to me and asked if I could help her fill out her new-hire paperwork. She whipped out her social security card. "Where did you get that?" I asked. "I know where we keep all that kind of stuff." Who knew? I'm impressed. I'm not sure my husband knows where that stuff is.

We sat together and filled out the tax forms. It's a weird thing to do with your child. "Well, it's official - you are a tax paying citizen."

She went to orientation and then had her first shift. She looked so cute in her uniform behind the counter. My baby is a big girl, with a big girl job.

She got her first pay check last week. It was $56. She was so happy. She wanted to get a gel manicure with her first check, so she did that. It was her splurge. Later in the week, she asked if we could stop at McDonald's in the morning for coffee. "Why McDonalds? Don't you love Starbucks?" I asked. "Well, McDonald's is only like a dollar and I'm not trying to spend all my money," she said. Interesting how that works. If I was paying, she would have asked for Starbucks.

I'm really proud of her. She is a get-up-and-go kind of kid. I really don't have to be on her very much at all. She is very responsible, very organized. She has her Cozi App and calendar on her phone and she has a calendar on her wall next to her bed. She likes to SEE things right in front of her.

She has her shit together more than some adults I know. That is not to say that she isn't a typical teenager. She is. She procrastinates which drives me INSANE. She pushes me a bit. We got into it the other week because she wanted to sleep over her friend's house on a school night. Ummmm.....NO. In general though, she is a good kid. Very responsible, AB student, nice person. I love her but I also really LIKE her. I enjoy her company. 

Now her plate is VERY full, but that's okay. It will be a good experience for her. She is highly capable and she will do great. Admittedly, it is a little bittersweet for me. She is my baby but she is not a little girl anymore, she is a young woman. 

I picked her up from work yesterday and she was chatting excitedly inbetween bites of chicken nuggets and my heart was full. This is a beautiful time in our lives.