Friday, April 30, 2010


My daughter has always been a competent communicator. Others worried (& made me worry)about her being at a twelve-month ability by almost 2 years old, but deep down, I wasn't worried. She fully understood what I said and responded, not verbally, but no one ever wondered what she wanted or needed. She just preferred to be of few words. Then one day, right after her sister was born, the chatterbox emerged.

It is amazing to listen to your child talk. You spend all of this time with them, but every day you learn a little more about them. My daughter is sweet and kind. She is polite. These are qualities that are not form me. Sure I tell her to say please and thank you, but she uses them. She asks if I am OK after I fall and if I am happy when she thinks I am sad. She tells me her favorite color is purple. Sure, she is a little indecisive as she switches between orange and green and purple, but she always seems to be drawn back to purple. She is attracted to things that sparkle and princess dresses, but will dig in her sandbox, push her trucks and fly her planes while wearing a tiara. My daughter is empathetic. If she thinks she has hurt me, she quickly says I'm sorry. She is amazed with flowers and bugs and thinks string beans are worms.

There was a time that I wondered what was behind those eyes, now, I can't wait to hear more. There is a draw back to this new stage... she doesn't understand secrets, parrots my truck driver language and expresses her opinion at every opportunity, however, I wouldn't have it any other way. I love to hear what she loves and how she thinks and who she is. This is what its all about, getting to know my lil' chatterbox.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Beyond Motherhood

Sometimes I catch glimpses of myself in the mirror and I wonder who that woman is. Tired, unkempt, rounder than I remember, but yet, that's me. The person I was is the person I think I should see, but its not the woman I am. She is different, older and wiser, yet not quite what I envisioned.

There was a time I awoke and immediately showered. A time when I worried how my hair was done and never left the house without make-up. My body was never perfect, but now things just sag and jiggle marked with silver lines. No longer are the days when I put on a bra and didn't have to lift my boob in and adjust it so it rested as if it was still perky hidden underneath an old ratty bra.

What happened to the woman who reveled in the latest fashion? Who wore a new hairstyle every month? Where did all the passion for make-up go? When did I become this frumpy old woman and how do I recapture time?

Does every new mother get lost for some time? They say that good mothers suffer from focusing on others. That we become so consumed by the daily grind that we forget to take care of ourselves. I am going to spend some time on myself so maybe when I look in the mirror I recognize who I see.

Am I the only one?

Am I the only one?

I feel like every one around has figured it out... they seem to know what their doing. I want the best for my kids and I strive to be the best I can be but I just can't seem to do what "they" do.

How do they know what to cook for dinner and have meal prepared every night? How do they manage all of those coupons and sales and know how to catch a bargain? I am a mostly stay at home mom who just can't seem to find the ability to master the simple skills. How do they keep the dust from gathering in the corners of every wall or from hanging like streamers from you ceiling fan? How do they keep the pet hair from becoming tumble weeds across their floor which aren't nearly as dusty as mine? How do keep more clean clothes in their drawers than dirty ones piled on the floor? How do they keep the toys from littering every room? How are their floors not littered with shredded paper and toilet paper confetti? How do they budget their money and even save? How do they look so kept and showered? How do they manage it all?

Some even go beyond the basics and do away with their paper plates and paper napkins and do conveniences that keep me sane? How do they work or study and keep afloat? How do they even manage clothe diapers and homemade baby foods? How do they have the energy to exercise, be healthy and live vice-free lives?

Most days, I am proud of everything I do and how well I do it. Some days, I just look around and wonder how I can do more. Maybe the better questions is how do they hide it so well. I can't be the only one.

Monday, April 12, 2010


"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all." Oscar Wilde

I saw the quote above and it struck me as most profound. What did he mean? What does it mean to me? Why does it strike my very soul.

My mind's eye envisions people stuck in the routines of their day... immersed in the struggles that grace life... losing sight of the beauty in life. I pictured me at times. How does one live as opposed to exist? I think I see the answer in the eyes of my children.

Years have flashed by in my life, I don't think I ever took the moment to savor it or understand the importance of each moment. The significance of time changes the moment my first was born. The first time I laid eyes on her I realized that my mother was once presented with me. Years ago, I was once just as vulnerable. I was once brand new. I promised myself that I would do my best to make each day count and do my best to make memories for her and I. It was a sober realization that this time was limited and that each day that passed she would be one day older. Every time I look at her and say, "wow, she is so big," I remember that this is the littlest she'll ever be. Each day I get to know her a little more. With every word, I get to see her personality unfold. She reminds me of how amazing dinosaurs are, the pure laughter from tickling and the beauty in every day life. The magic that surrounds us that I never quite noticed before she came into my life. She makes me realize that I want as many of these moments as I can have.

There are still moments I catch myself just existing. Parenting is a daunting task. I become overwhelmed and become a buoy on the ocean. Then I remember to just keep swimming because life is good. She reminded me of how to live and I don't ever want her to lose sight of that truth.