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!