Merrry Christmas From Heaven

Something I read each year at Christmas:

Merry Christmas From Heaven

I still hear the songs
I still see the lights
I still feel your love
on cold wintery nights

I still share your hopes
and all of your cares
I'll even remind you
to please say your prayers

I just want to tell you
you still make me proud
You stand head and shoulders
above all the crowd

Keep trying each moment
to stay in His grace
I came here before you
to help set your place

You don't have to be perfect
all of the time
He forgives you the slip
If you continue the climb

To my family and friends
Please be thankful today
I'm still close beside you
In a new special way

I love you all dearly
Now don't shed a tear
cause I'm spending my
Christmas with Jesus this year

I miss you so very much Mom and Dad and this Christmas has such an emptiness without the joy that you both brought to this holiday. Once upon a time Mom, you decorated your house in Santa's year-round. I can't say I miss that, but I do miss you. Although I have to feel the loneliness and sadness of being without you this Christmas, I do find comfort in knowing you are spending your Christmas with each other and Jesus this year. I pray that you are so very happy. I think of you everyday, every hour, some day's every minute. Thank you so much for making all the Christmas's you were here for so memorable and beautiful for me. The memories with be with me until the day I see you again, and for now, that will be enough. Love you more than you know, Kris.

I Fell Off The Burp Cloth Wagon

First let me recap the past few days. 3 days ago I decided out of the blue to test Sawyer. I put her down for bed to see how long she would cry for her beloved burp cloth aka burpee. As I closed the door I heard her cry, "bee-bee Mom, bee bee." I was fully prepared to run in there and save the day and give her one, but her cries only lasted about a minute. So, I went to bed-but first I set out a burpee in my room to grab when I heard her middle-of-the-night cries for it. They, my friends, did not come. It was then that I realized I wanted her to have this fixation. She holds onto her cloth, intertwines her fingers within it just so, then puts her right thumb in her mouth. To me, it is the cutest thing; it may not be in 5 years, but right now it just really is. I don't know if it's proof that she still "needs" something which means she still "needs" me. I didn't know it would hurt this much. Moving on with my story, the next morning I heard her cries letting me know she was awake. "MOM, I unt out!" over and over...I proceeded to go into her room to get her dressed. When I took her out of her crib she cried, "bee-bee!" over and over...she threw herself a nice sized fit and I waited it out thinking her behavior wouldn't get any better and eventually I would give in and give her the darn thing. I was counting on that. Surprisingly, for the next two days she didn't mention it. Today, however was a different story. Today was a set back. She, er, I, fell off the wagon. I was in the living room folding laundry, I had 3 basketful's sitting around me and I was elbow deep into my folding when I came across one of my, er, her, safety nets, security blankets, lovies...burpees. I hesitated; should I bury it quickly so she doesn't have time to see it? Should I act as if nothing has happened and just go about folding and see if she notices? I sat there pondering my decision, knowing that it could directly affect the next several months or years of our lives. On one hand, it would be great to not have to make sure we have burpee's every time we leave the house, but on the other hand, it's so sweet, it makes her, well...babyish. Not that I want another baby - Hell no. It's not even that I want her to stay little. I don't know what it is, that's the problem. I never envisioned myself being one of those types to coddle the "baby" of the family. So, to end, I'm ashamed to admit my behavior, but I'll tell it all the same. I laid it carefully on top of a basket, called her over and asked her for a kiss. She runs over, kisses me, looks down, sees "it", hesitates, exclaims "BEE-BEE" like she'd found a long lost friend, picks it up, laces her fingers within it and pops that thumb in her mouth. Ahhh...relief, more for me than her, I'm sure, but relief all the same. I may regret this decision a couple years, but for now, I'm going to let her take all the time she needs (I need) and when we're both ready, we'll go about the journey and recovery together.

The Man With Half A Face

So, there's this man. I see him almost every Sunday in church. He usually makes his way in after I'm already seated, but almost always sits where I can directly see him, his profile anyway...the part that matters. His face is never hidden behind people. This man is always in plain view to me. He's always in front of me, but to the side. Although he sits in different spots every Sunday...it's always the same. I look...stare actually, my heart swells, my eyes smile, then I reprimand myself for letting myself go there, at which point my eyes burn, and my stomach turns. I don't want to get caught, surely that would make me seem insane, I just want to look, to take it all in...to let myself pretend, if just for a moment. I know it's not healthy, it hurts, but in some sick way it makes him feel closer too. It's bittersweet, to stare at this man. I wonder what he would do if one day I raised my hand and touched his face, or wrapped my arms around him and laid my head on his chest. The differences are subtle, subtle enough that if I purposely blur my vision when I'm looking I wouldn't be able to tell the difference, that is, if I didn't know the difference. His hair is the same color, but straight. The cut and length are the same. His skin, a little less weathered and whiter than it should be. His nose, HA...his nose. When he smiles or laughs, I smile, because it's a smile I know, although when I knew it, it wasn't this man that was wearing it. The resemblance is uncanny. And I know each time I'm staring at him, the person I'm imagining him to be, is probably staring at me, shaking his head, telling me to invest in a good shrink. But to him I say, "I know Dad...I know I'm crazy, but I really do wish it were you."

Motherhood

Whew! Just reread my last blog and didn't realize just how angry I came across, but then when I think about it, I think it came across that angry because I was that angry. Being that it was only last night I can't say at all that I'm fully recovered. It's subsiding, coming and going only when I give myself enough time to think about it. Oh well, it is what it is & I guess all I can do is pray that it gets better, or that I figure out how to deal with it.

New Subject...

Mother's Day is this weekend, and it's got me thinking about my kids...how much I love them and then at other times how much I want to ring their little necks. I can't believe the school year is almost over. Madyson sailed through 6th grade in what seemed like 2 months time. God Bless her for being such a good student, because Lord knows I cannot help her with her homework. That stopped around 4th grade when her math homework became too much for me to understand. She gave band a shot this year and it quite remarkable on the clarinet for a first timer. I don't know if she will continue on with it through 7th grade and beyond though. She is such a go-getter. Great at anything she tries. She was inducted into Beta Club about a month ago which is a great honor and is also active in Student Counsel. I can't say I'm too excited about these 'tween' years we're dealing with. I've just never been at the same level of understanding or thinking as a middle schooler, & in all honesty they annoy me. I can't compete with that level of enthusiasm they have about things like High School Musical, The Jonas Brothers, etc. I wish I could be that free, that giddy. To feel that I can let loose and just 'be' without a care in the world. I'm afraid I've become one of those stiff old ladies we think we will never become. One that doesn't crack a smile. When did I become that way? What changed? I can't even roll the windows down in my car and jam like I used to, that's depressing. Could have something to do with the fact that I drive a minivan, who knows? I want to be more like that, but how? Anyways, back to my kids. Onto the subject of Ryder...aka 'the middle child'...aka 'the angel with devil horns'...aka 'my biggest challenge in life thus far'. What do I do with this child? "He's so cute," is what strangers say. My reply is "he darn well better be because that's about all he's got going for him!" No, that's harsh, I have a flare for the dramatic sometimes. In all reality he is adorable, and when he's sweet he's OH SO SWEET, but EVERYTHING is a fight. He's too smart for reverse psychology. Right now our goal is napping in underwear without peeing so we can get his butt to preschool a couple days a week. Preschool or military school, whatever comes first. ;) Really, he needs that. I NEED that. I mean, you give the kid a spoon, he wants a fork, you give him a blue cup, he wants the green cup. He's asserting his own independence, which is fine, but he can't pick and choose! He has to pick out his clothes but then to try and get him to wipe his own butt (another prerequisite for preschool) he is not having ANY of that! The other day I tried to show him, with both my hands and his wrapped around 20 plies of Double Charmin, as I'm reaching his hands back near his butt he starts shaking and whimpering. Mr. Big Man he is, huh? I'm thinking, "oh, you're all big and bad when you're yelling at me because you want goldfish crackers instead of cheese-its (friggin same flavor, but different shape, but I'll tell you the kid will pick a fight about anything) but to hell if you're going to wipe your own butt, huh? Sissy." Lord knows I love him, though. Ahhhh, now onto Sawyer. Sawyer is well...Sawyer; still very sweet and cuddly. Dainty as all get-out and seriously the baby of the family. She has her way with everyone. Although she isn't a baby you would go ga-ga over when you first see her you can't help but fall in love with her when she gives you a glimpse of her super sweet personality. You give her a 'burpie' and she's got that thumb in her mouth and her head on your shoulder. So sweet. She is looking a bit hillbillyish these days though, I gotta say. She's got her two bottom teeth in about halfway but on top she only has one front tooth coming in so far. When she smiles at you she looks like something off of The Beverly Hillbilly's. God Love her though, she's so sweet, I just pray she stays that way. There are plenty of days I go to bed and realize that I didn't do all I could have done to be the best mom that I could have that day, and I just pray that everyday He helps me to be a little bit more like the mom they deserve. Either that or that I can brainwash them well enough to never know the difference.

Happy Mother's Day!

I Stopped To See A Weeping Willow, Crying On His Pillow

So I've survived another week...sort of. I have a lot of distractions, which is nice sometimes, but other times I would really like time to pout. To crawl into bed and pull my nice fuzzy blanket all the way up to my face and just be. I try to think at night, because you need to think, it's healthy you know? But my thoughts branch out like a huge tree, and as exhaustion takes over all those thoughts spiral down like the branches of a weeping willow until I am jolted awake and forget what I was thinking about in the first place. Is it healthy that I cannot finish a full thought? I believe some are on medication for similar problems. Anyhow...back to what I was saying; I've compared this grief to an addiction of some sort, or should I say an addict trying to break an addiction. I find myself so many times a day, at times before when I would have called my mom, having to change my course, or distract myself. They say if you're a smoker, and you are trying to quit, to not do things or go places that you associate with smoking, and that is how it is for me right now. Hmm, could it be that I was addicted to my Mom? Doubtful. I think that even though many times I took on the parent role and she the child, that in my head I knew she was still my mom. When you have parents you know you always have someone to fall back on, someone to catch you when you fall. It's a scary feeling to have lost all that. It's incomprehensible to think that in the past 5 years my family tree, my weeping willow, has gone from flowy and flourishing to practically a stump.

Hello Grief, can't say that I've missed you...

Hello Grief - I was almost afraid you wouldn't come
I was patient and I waited
Your delay made me wonder why it felt so different this time
But you came, of course you did...and now I remember
Remember all too much how you feel
You hurt
You slice through me like a dull, ragged edged knife
Your fire burns down to the deepest depths of my soul and lashes outward making even my fingertips feel the pain
My limbs seem as heavy as granite
To move is work
To blink takes thought
The tears you produce within me seem as destructive as all Mother Nature's creations combined No hurricane of the strongest force can muster up the same amount of rain turned tears that I have cried
You kill me Grief, but I welcome you
I need you
For I know the pain I feel is a neccessary pain
A pain I will have to endure to heal
And I know how bad I hurt is but a testimony to how much I have loved

A poem from Madyson to me ;-) Too cute

I know many women,
though some not well.
but there is one special woman,
who i think is especially swell.

i call her my mommy,
as do my sister and brother.
we think of her,
as the very best mother.

she is pretty and smart,
and many other things.
including funny and awesome,
fun is what she always brings.

she is strong and mighty,
and does her very best,
to help us through appointments,
and all the rest.

we can count on her,
through the thick and the thin.
because we all know
she will be with us till' the end.

i just wanted to say, mom,
that i love you very dear.
and i am very lucky,
to have you here.

p.s. always remember that i love you and you will always be very close in my heart. I know that no matter what you and i will always stick together through anything. you mean the world to me and this whole family. you have done so much for this family and we can't thank you enough. Just always remember that no matter what i say or do, i will always love you and support what you say even if at the time, i roll my eyes and disrespect you and i am sorry when i do. I love you! :)

Where Can I Find Scrooge McDuck?

I just need to know who's bright idear it was to have taxes due in December? Obviously not someone with children...or any family for that matter. It must have been a millionaire...or billionaire. Scrooge McDuck, maybe? As I sit here and ponder these thoughts I wonder why Scrooge couldn't have made them due in June or July maybe? Was he too busy jumping off the diving board of his 3 story high piggy bank, swimming through his money to think about us little people? Must be, that's the only good answer I can come up with. And where do I contact this Scrooge to give him a piece of my mind? Explain to me why we have to pay them anyway? I can sort of understand the house taxes, but the car? Let me get this straight...we are paying for the house (which includes the driveway) and we are paying for the car (which sits in the driveway) so why are we paying for our car to sit in the driveway? Doesn't that mean we are paying like 3 times for the same thing? Hey, I've never claimed to be a genius.

On another note-Why do we have to have the time change? Why can't we stick to just one? Screw all this spring forward/fall backwards crap! The person who made THIS rule did not have children, for that, I am absolutely positive. Do you know how much of a pain in the behind it is to try and get the little ones accustomed to a new schedule? By the time you get them used to one, why, it's time to change the clocks again! Who has the authority to make this rule? When I find out who, Ryder is going to go live with them. That way he can wake their happy a$$es up at 4:30 in the morning.

I'll bet that Scrooge McDuck is related to the person who makes the time change rule...I'd bet my life on it.

Gym Class & Cheerleading Bloomers

Oh my, it's just been so long, hasn't it? I love to blog, and so many times something has happened and I've said to myself, "I want to blog about this," but, it just never pans out. Life gets in the way. I've had 2 subjects in my head lately, so today I will talk about both because they pertain to the same thing.

To fully understand we need to start at the beginning…

First grade was a whole new start for me. A new school had been built up the street and I was going to be attending with all my friends, exciting, I know! I remember the smell of crayons and to this day I love to open a box and smell them. My friend Tiffany sat beside me on the first day and we compared school supplies. I believe I had a pink backpack that year with an actual Cabbage Patch head coming out of it. Sounds weird, but I loved it. Unfortunately though, later that year I was diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis and was unable to participate in sports at all. I had my good days and I tried my hardest. I actually got a PE award from good ol' Coach Koelling (which, by the way, was stolen from a boy who pushed me down on my way home from school that day). I'm not sure at what point and time I began to fear gym class, I think it was when I left the security of Truman Elem. & Coach Koelling and moved on to middle school. There, is where a whole new world began and where my views on jocks, coaches and gym class as a whole changed.

So, here we go, this, my friends is my soapbox…
P.E. class is a class of favoritism. The problem I have with it still lingers to this day and bothers me often. Many, many times I have thought about contacting the school district regarding it, and I guess my views have resurfaced and begun to churn again since Madyson just entered middle school. First off, the coaches/gym teachers pick their "favorites" to be captains, at which point their "favorites" pick their fellow jock friends to be on their teams. Who, you ask, is left standing until the very end, sending telepathic messages to the captains, God, and whoever else will listen? Me, kids like me, handicapped kids, fat kids, geeky kids. To me, all that does is make them/us feel littler than they are. Not literally, of course, but mentally, emotionally…Do you know what it feels like to be one of the last kids standing there against the bleachers with your cheeks burning from embarrassment? Now, don't feel too sorry for me, I had plenty of friends, I wasn't necessarily geeky and surely at the time not fat, but who wants the girl with braces on her legs to play sidelined soccer for their team? Schools these days are trying like mad to cut down on bullying to end childhood suffering, suicide, etc. but let me tell you what, standing there was suffering! I would have rather been bullied! The fact that they, the schools, haven't picked up on this type of team selection being hard on kids self esteem astonishes me! I would stand there and act like I didn't care, and thank God I usually had Kelly by my side, (for whatever reason we usually had gym together) we, the rejects that Coach Vanleer's protégée's didn't want on their team. (I'm not doing us much justice Kelly, am I? We weren't dorks, just not athletes.) Anyway, all I'm saying is with the school systems changing things so much to accommodate all children, yet overlooking something, in my eyes, to be so hurtful is nuts. I mean, look at me, all these years and it still bothers me. That's how much of an impact it had on me, and it kills me to know they are still doing that and that there are still kids standing there, like me, wishing to drop dead as they stand against the cold brown bleachers.

Onto soapbox numero dos…

Cheerleaders. Why is it okay for them to wear skirts that their asses hang out of when all the rest of the female (or male drag) population have to wear skirts and shorts that go down to their middle finger fingertip? Seriously, why is that? I have ALWAYS wondered. Once again, don't get me wrong, most of my friends were cheerleaders, but it is such a double standard! Just because they are wearing bloomers under their skirts doesn't make it okay! The dress code these days is hilarious! Madyson actually got in trouble by a teacher b/c her bra strap was showing from underneath her tank top. The tank top, mind you, was not a spaghetti strap; it had inch and a half width on the shoulders. I almost want to send her to school in a mini skirt just to see what they would say, I would put bloomers underneath of course, which I guess would make it okay, right?