The moment a child is conceived, so is a mother. As a woman transforms, her once familiar world changes. She emerges on journey of self-discovery.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
The monkey on my back...
As far back as I can recall, I remember the intensity of my emotions. The was a time when my emotions would be so overwhelming that I would ask God to take it away. Over the years, the way it presents itself has been different, but it always has to be cared for... its the monkey on my back.
I am not a sad person, just someone with very deep feelings. Depression is physiological... I am hard wired to perceive my world differently. There was a time when a very damaged person had the choice between bearing his own burden and sharing it with me. He chose to pass along his pain to another generation and triggered my first battle. Thankfully, I had parents who recognized that the monkey had grown and could see me struggling with life. Over the years, I have learned to harness my unique perception. Motherhood has made me rethink every component of life I once held to be true. Whether it is due to the experience of motherhood, the hormonal changes or complete overhaul to my value structure, life is good not a challenge. My monkey may be smaller, but its still there. Pulling my hair, begging for attention that I will not entertain. She affects my ability to deal with stress, so, I try to slow down and make sure I find the beauty in every minute.
This blog was a way for me to do just that... express my thoughts and and perhaps let my words create something bigger, better perhaps like a raindrop that becomes a rainbow. The challenges of pregnancy, a tough semester at work and my challenges coping with stress made me have to slow down. I have 2 of the most amazing little women who look to me for how to view this world. I need to show them the beauty of this world not my monkey, so, I have to make sure I see it. I had to drop a ball or two so, I didn't have to struggle with the most precious ones that remained. I worked so hard to build this space so, its hard to watch the tumbleweeds roll... hell, even some of my friendships have faded away with misguided perceptions.
I love who I am and do not look to others for validation. I have learned to embrace my capacity to feel and accept that I will always have to work on maintaining balance. It is not about strength. I have held my monkey high and through all types of terrain even in the darkest of moments, I will strive for light. I have come to decide that pretending the monkey doesn't exist is like being ashamed of a part of myself & I am not. I'd like you to meet my monkey... I think I'll name her, Rose. :-)
I am not a sad person, just someone with very deep feelings. Depression is physiological... I am hard wired to perceive my world differently. There was a time when a very damaged person had the choice between bearing his own burden and sharing it with me. He chose to pass along his pain to another generation and triggered my first battle. Thankfully, I had parents who recognized that the monkey had grown and could see me struggling with life. Over the years, I have learned to harness my unique perception. Motherhood has made me rethink every component of life I once held to be true. Whether it is due to the experience of motherhood, the hormonal changes or complete overhaul to my value structure, life is good not a challenge. My monkey may be smaller, but its still there. Pulling my hair, begging for attention that I will not entertain. She affects my ability to deal with stress, so, I try to slow down and make sure I find the beauty in every minute.
This blog was a way for me to do just that... express my thoughts and and perhaps let my words create something bigger, better perhaps like a raindrop that becomes a rainbow. The challenges of pregnancy, a tough semester at work and my challenges coping with stress made me have to slow down. I have 2 of the most amazing little women who look to me for how to view this world. I need to show them the beauty of this world not my monkey, so, I have to make sure I see it. I had to drop a ball or two so, I didn't have to struggle with the most precious ones that remained. I worked so hard to build this space so, its hard to watch the tumbleweeds roll... hell, even some of my friendships have faded away with misguided perceptions.
I love who I am and do not look to others for validation. I have learned to embrace my capacity to feel and accept that I will always have to work on maintaining balance. It is not about strength. I have held my monkey high and through all types of terrain even in the darkest of moments, I will strive for light. I have come to decide that pretending the monkey doesn't exist is like being ashamed of a part of myself & I am not. I'd like you to meet my monkey... I think I'll name her, Rose. :-)
Saturday, March 26, 2011
The end of a trimester...the greener dawn
I am officially out of the first trimester today! Hooray! I am finally starting to feel, once again, like my non-reproducing self. The pregnancy still seems so surreal. Pregnant for months, struggling with symptoms that were my only proof I was pregnant. Knowing that soon I will feel the baby move and be able to cherish our time together. Then, giggle because soon after the discomfort of the next trimester will soon arrive.
The heightened emotions made me think a lot about finances and life. At the same time, we discover that my husband has high blood pressure. In an effort to control that, he has to eat more fruits and vegetable.My husband is quite particular about what he eats. He'll tell you he just expects it to be fresh, but the supermarket is never fresh enough. We found this site online Suburban Organics that delivers farm fresh organic produce to your door for a reasonable price. I know I sound like an advertisement, but it just fit our needs. It really does make me feel good. If my family is eating more fruits and vegetables, its nice to not have to worry about the pesticides and how it can affect us. Strangely enough, or food bill went down. Not dramatically, but without the chips and prepared foods, the food bill lowered even with the expense of organic fruits and veggies.
Do you see the chain reaction? My husband needs to improve his health (Hell, we all do!), so, we start eating organic fruits and veggies. This got me thinking of what other changes I would like to make that I haven't done before... I started cutting up old towels for rags and using my dish towels more. I have a dishwasher, so, I should use the dishes more frequently. Cutting down on paper plates and paper towels has to lower our spending. Then, it dawned on me. Cloth diapers. Can it really be that hard? I know myself and this is up my alley. I have always wanted to use them, but I didn't know where to begin and it seemed to fit to a personality that was not me. Today was my first day. I went well. It was almost exciting... if the intrigue doesn't wear off, baby#3 will only know cloth.
Somehow when I listen to a description of myself, I did not think THAT woman would ever be me. Yet, here I am: breastfeeding, co-sleeping, recycling, organic-eating, cloth diapering, pregnant mother of 2 going on 3. Not quite the dedicated environmental person I envisioned with Birkenstocks and hemp skirt with a carbon footprint of zero, but a Mom just trying to do what she thinks is best for her family and hoping in the end, it was worth it.
The heightened emotions made me think a lot about finances and life. At the same time, we discover that my husband has high blood pressure. In an effort to control that, he has to eat more fruits and vegetable.My husband is quite particular about what he eats. He'll tell you he just expects it to be fresh, but the supermarket is never fresh enough. We found this site online Suburban Organics that delivers farm fresh organic produce to your door for a reasonable price. I know I sound like an advertisement, but it just fit our needs. It really does make me feel good. If my family is eating more fruits and vegetables, its nice to not have to worry about the pesticides and how it can affect us. Strangely enough, or food bill went down. Not dramatically, but without the chips and prepared foods, the food bill lowered even with the expense of organic fruits and veggies.
Do you see the chain reaction? My husband needs to improve his health (Hell, we all do!), so, we start eating organic fruits and veggies. This got me thinking of what other changes I would like to make that I haven't done before... I started cutting up old towels for rags and using my dish towels more. I have a dishwasher, so, I should use the dishes more frequently. Cutting down on paper plates and paper towels has to lower our spending. Then, it dawned on me. Cloth diapers. Can it really be that hard? I know myself and this is up my alley. I have always wanted to use them, but I didn't know where to begin and it seemed to fit to a personality that was not me. Today was my first day. I went well. It was almost exciting... if the intrigue doesn't wear off, baby#3 will only know cloth.
Somehow when I listen to a description of myself, I did not think THAT woman would ever be me. Yet, here I am: breastfeeding, co-sleeping, recycling, organic-eating, cloth diapering, pregnant mother of 2 going on 3. Not quite the dedicated environmental person I envisioned with Birkenstocks and hemp skirt with a carbon footprint of zero, but a Mom just trying to do what she thinks is best for her family and hoping in the end, it was worth it.
Friday, March 18, 2011
The Irony of Pregnancy
Is it just me or is there a certain irony to being pregnant? Pregnancy is this beautiful and precious thing that is to be cherished and loved. I am bringing a child into this world. Depending on what you believe, this child may seen as the ultimate in divine gifts. I am special for being able to do this three times and my biggest worry is for the pregnancy to not be perfect. There are so many who are unable to feel the amazement of her own biological child grow in their womb. Feeling and experiencing pregnancy makes you privileged. Pregnancy is awe inspiring and magical.
Is it just me or does it feel quite the opposite sometimes? I was just about to write "women," but the truth is some women have great pregnancies. Some are almost unaffected by the overall process. This woman is thoroughly affected. I do not do well overtired and I'm tired all the time. I have spent weeks on end feeling nauseated and struggling to just get through a day, better yet, just get through a meal. (This has gotten much better) My hormones are in full gear. I can almost feel them wash over me at times. If I wasn't pregnant, I would be begging for Prozac, but since I am, I remind myself that its the hormones that have grasped my sense of reality. My 4 year old has just entered the stage of crying over everything just to see if she can get her way. It has never worked before so, it actually feels like she is testing my boundaries to see how hard she can push and if she can reach a new level, perhaps the level where I will cave. My 2 year old has begun the, "I love you Mama" stage where she cannot spend a minute without me and it breaks my heart that I won't be able to dote on her the same way in 6mths. The class I teach had doubled in size from last semester and the level of reading/grading has done the same just as my attention span has had decreased and my ability to concentrate.
I want this baby more than anything and I am so blessed to have this opportunity, but sometimes I think why is something so wonderful sometimes be so horrible? Then, I knock on wood and feel guilty for the thought. Next, I pray for the second trimester when the pregnancy is a little less ironic.
Is it just me or does it feel quite the opposite sometimes? I was just about to write "women," but the truth is some women have great pregnancies. Some are almost unaffected by the overall process. This woman is thoroughly affected. I do not do well overtired and I'm tired all the time. I have spent weeks on end feeling nauseated and struggling to just get through a day, better yet, just get through a meal. (This has gotten much better) My hormones are in full gear. I can almost feel them wash over me at times. If I wasn't pregnant, I would be begging for Prozac, but since I am, I remind myself that its the hormones that have grasped my sense of reality. My 4 year old has just entered the stage of crying over everything just to see if she can get her way. It has never worked before so, it actually feels like she is testing my boundaries to see how hard she can push and if she can reach a new level, perhaps the level where I will cave. My 2 year old has begun the, "I love you Mama" stage where she cannot spend a minute without me and it breaks my heart that I won't be able to dote on her the same way in 6mths. The class I teach had doubled in size from last semester and the level of reading/grading has done the same just as my attention span has had decreased and my ability to concentrate.
I want this baby more than anything and I am so blessed to have this opportunity, but sometimes I think why is something so wonderful sometimes be so horrible? Then, I knock on wood and feel guilty for the thought. Next, I pray for the second trimester when the pregnancy is a little less ironic.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Channeling Supermom... please come-in Supermom... Supermom where are you?
Ok, so, seriously, how do other moms get it done and appear so effortless? I have been struggling through my days with constant indigestion and nausea. I am tired and trying to balance part-time work with full-time mothering. My part-time work requires so much mental energy. Most work does. We all know that deep thought while taking care of kids is almost impossible. Let alone truly provide for the amount of time actually necessary to complete the tasks. Yes, I am pregnant, but I am not the first woman to be pregnant while raising two kids and balancing work and well, more work. Just getting over a stomach virus looking at how far behind I am... wondering... almost desperately...
I can't be the only one that feels like I'm always two steps behind. I once compared being the mother of two to running up two separate moving stair cases at the same time and feeling the momentum. Its just fast enough that I am only on the tips of my toes, deciding which stairs I can miss without falling on my face. Other moms have clean homes, kempt children, plan meals in advance, know how to coupon and budget, all the while working, working out and may even write in a Blog on a regular basis. I know Supermom does not exist, but it seems like she's everywhere I'm not. I am an overweight, not very eco-friendly (but would like to be), over-extended momma who is trying to figure out how to get out of my habit of shopping at box stores (double carts fit 2 kids) out of convenience and begin my learning to strategize our food since the new family member will tighten an already tight budget. I know I can do it. I have faith I can, but am I scared that I may not be able to keep it afloat? I used to cringe when I heard "its the economy," yet, since my husband works in the service industry and every price has gone up while money has gone down, it IS the damn economy. I soon get scared since we are adding to out family. Yes, I said it. Fear pulses through my body every so often on a stray thought not just about the health of my child in my body, but of my ability to provide, mentally, physically and monetarily for my child. It is soon swatted away by the pure confidence that my family is not yet complete and life is better when shared and lived thoroughly. We can get through anything as a team.
So if there is a way to channel a spirit or conjure her energy, I need to be Supermom or at least be her student if only for a little while. I want to excel in everything I do or at least learn how to appear like I am.
I can't be the only one that feels like I'm always two steps behind. I once compared being the mother of two to running up two separate moving stair cases at the same time and feeling the momentum. Its just fast enough that I am only on the tips of my toes, deciding which stairs I can miss without falling on my face. Other moms have clean homes, kempt children, plan meals in advance, know how to coupon and budget, all the while working, working out and may even write in a Blog on a regular basis. I know Supermom does not exist, but it seems like she's everywhere I'm not. I am an overweight, not very eco-friendly (but would like to be), over-extended momma who is trying to figure out how to get out of my habit of shopping at box stores (double carts fit 2 kids) out of convenience and begin my learning to strategize our food since the new family member will tighten an already tight budget. I know I can do it. I have faith I can, but am I scared that I may not be able to keep it afloat? I used to cringe when I heard "its the economy," yet, since my husband works in the service industry and every price has gone up while money has gone down, it IS the damn economy. I soon get scared since we are adding to out family. Yes, I said it. Fear pulses through my body every so often on a stray thought not just about the health of my child in my body, but of my ability to provide, mentally, physically and monetarily for my child. It is soon swatted away by the pure confidence that my family is not yet complete and life is better when shared and lived thoroughly. We can get through anything as a team.
So if there is a way to channel a spirit or conjure her energy, I need to be Supermom or at least be her student if only for a little while. I want to excel in everything I do or at least learn how to appear like I am.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Stream of consciousness...
It only stands to reason that each experience adds to the richness of your world view. So as we get older, we have a more comprehensive understanding of life and everything in it. Since it is limited by our experiences, the path you walk, the things you interact with all shape your truth. Even your physical capability to engage affects your reality. Its as simple as a color blind person not being able to see the color difference between a leaf on a tree and a bright red shirt, but also that fact that you cannot absob everything in a room or in an moment at one time. You almost triage the room. You determine what is important in understanding the room. Cause that's what its all about, right? Understanding. So you can feel comfortable and safe and have some sort of ability to predict and quite possibly control you environment, your next moment, the future. Its probably, in part, because we are animals who have an instinctual drive to survive. It is also in part because the only true control we have is over ourselves and that is pretty scary. Well, we control our behavior, but not our health or death and that is even scarier if you thought about it we rarely do... it just drives our understanding. Through understanding we make connections with others and if you suspend your own reality for just a moment, you can see throught the eyes of another. Not competely, but we could empathize and take on the emotions of another with our own personal twist. That's why we're so strategic with what we encounter because they forever become apart of us. Not just a shared path but part of the essence of us. Cause that's what we are. We are the unique combination of energies from everything we have ever encountered that is us. That's the energy that transcends death. The image we leave with those who took with them part of us.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
The ever-changing journey....
Finally, after 2 years, I have adjusted to being a mostly stay at home mom of two girls. It was quite a change for me to transition from one child to two. When it was just my oldest and I, there were moments of peace and privacy. Not as much as before kids, but all the same I had moments. However, having an infant and a two year old, those moments disappeared. They never seemed to sleep at the same time, complicated by post-partum hormones and a lack of sleep. I knew it would be a challenge, but the knowledge did not ease the transition. Going back to work for the first time presented new hurdles that I overcame and now, are almost routine. I have finally found the balance and it seems so far away how overwhelmed I once was. Seems like the right time to change things up, doesn't it? That might explain the positive pregnancy test... here we go again!
So, I begin my metamorphosis into "Mommy of 3." I am consumed with excitement, fear and wonder. I am ever so grateful for this opportunity, yet scared of what the future holds. The one good thing is I know I will do amazing. It will be challenging and the transition will be hard, but I can do this. I can't wait to meet her/him. I am going to cherish every moment on this journey even the hard ones because one day I will miss these moments. As I continue on this journey, it evolves and so do I. Here's to a healthy pregnancy, to meeting the final piece of my heart and to the woman I will become.
So, I begin my metamorphosis into "Mommy of 3." I am consumed with excitement, fear and wonder. I am ever so grateful for this opportunity, yet scared of what the future holds. The one good thing is I know I will do amazing. It will be challenging and the transition will be hard, but I can do this. I can't wait to meet her/him. I am going to cherish every moment on this journey even the hard ones because one day I will miss these moments. As I continue on this journey, it evolves and so do I. Here's to a healthy pregnancy, to meeting the final piece of my heart and to the woman I will become.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Mommiversary
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| My First Born, now Four Yrs Old |
The moment I saw two lines appear on the pregnancy stick, I was in sheer euphoria with the dreams of the life that was to come. Pregnancy is so surreal. More than likely, you have done "the act" a million times of no consequence yet, this once, a miracle occurs. Right after euphoria, follows the very different feeling of fear. Will the pregnancy make it? Will the child be healthy? Will I be a good mother? The existence of contradictory emotions in the same moment is your first introduction into the complexities of being Mother.
There was a time when I thought I was a horrible mother, not because I truly was, but because thoeretically, I knew what a mother was "supposed" to be and I failed to meet my expectation. That's the fun of "supposed to's" you can imagine just about anything even if it is impossible to actually exist. Each day that passed and every mother I met, reinforced that I was the perfect mother for my daughter. Nobody else cared as deeply or knew her as well as I. I learned that every mother has insecurities in her ability since our love is so deep and we are scared to ruin this precious life we have created. I used to look towards others for validation that I was doing ok, but soon I realized there are a million ways to mother and I should look towards my daughter's happiness as an indicator.
These past four years has taught me that I am stronger than I ever perceived myself to be, a better mother than I gave myself credit for and that motherhood is a blessing. Not only do I have two amazing daughters who fill my life with pride and joy, but also this path has taught me more about myself than any previous journey. I have emerged a more beautiful person than I could have imagined and cannot wait to see what tomorrow brings! So, today, I celebrate my mommiversary.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Vacation?
Disney World is a magical place where dreams come true and pockets empty. LOL. Just as my parents did, my husband and I honeymooned in Magic Kingdom. Since the number seven is of great significance to my husband and I, we wanted to return for our seventh anniversary with our girls. You only live once, right?
I am very blessed with generally well behaved children. My youngest's favorite word is "no" and she even yells it at strangers, but she and her sister are easy to manage. I didn't realize the perfect storm that was about to happen. The stimulations of new environment, coupled with the excitement of their fantasies manifesting in front of their very eyes, lack of sleep and routine, all melded together to create two of the most amazingly challenging children I have ever dealt with in my life. I swear there were moments that my daughters grew horns and tails and cackled at their mother's inability to understand. Thankfully, there was always an adult beverage to help me keep things in perspective. Tantrums, screaming, running, oh my!
Although there were moments of sheer frustration, there were many more moments that brought tears to my eyes. When each of my daughters met their favorite princess or the moment I learned my youngest prefers Donald Duck to any other character or when Aladdin gave my girls a flower, I could feel the happiness well in my eyes. I would not have wanted to be anywhere else, but in that exact moment sharing that experience with them. Having my husband by my side for an entire week as a united team returned the magic to full force.
It is a week since I came back from vacation and I am still exhausted. I thought vacation meant relaxation. What happened?
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Our Story
My aunt lived up the block, yet I never saw him. During high school, I had friends that lived on the same block as his, but we frequented the same location at different times. While he went to school, I worked nearby and watched with my friend the good looking men that came and went from his building. He could have been one of them, but he was just part of the scenery at that time. Insignificant... at least, not yet significant.
Our lives seem entwined since the moment we were conceived. We had the same due date. I showed up a little early. He arrived just 20 days later. Our paths seem parallel; similar experiences shaping similar people creating similar understandings about the world around us. Far from the same, we take different roads to get to the same place, but we seem to want to be in the same place. We are both left-handed and we can't purse our lips to whistle, only a smile will do. Just mere coincidence, yet, uniquely shared.
"A diamond in the rough," was what he called me when our paths finally crossed. I had to laugh... silly line, but he was not chasing me. He just took notice and went along his way. Did he know I wished to meet a guy like him one day in the future so, I could spend the rest of my life with him? I knew that it was you that I wanted, but I had no idea it was YOU. The gravitational spin just kept throwing us back together until shortly when it never let us part. We had both come out of long relationships with those who were not for us. He told me he just wanted to be friends... I agreed, but we have not spent a night apart since that moment.
My grandmother, before she passed, had told me that I would know "the one" when I met him. Little did she know what a skeptic I was. In hindsight, I know she brought us together. We met in Palisades Park, the town with the same name as the amusement park where my grandmother first met my grandfather at all those years ago. Our first apartment was a short block from the town she lived in when she met her love. The day we were approved for a home loan, my uncle/her son changed the locks on a house for sale for the same amount (no houses were going that low at that time). Our future home. Shortly after, we found out that my grandmother's life started in the same town and she had gone to school at the school where her great-grandchildren will go. Actually, no one knew until her sister heard where I lived and shared their story.
Stories of soul mates and love at first sight always seemed ridiculous to me, but yet, I have now seen the wellspring of these fanciful tales. Who knows if its happily ever after or just happily right now. What does it matter? With him, I want today to last forever.
Happy Birthday my love. Thank you for being exactly you. You make this journey more than I ever thought could be. You took my tear drop and showed me the rainbow inside, you are my soul's prism.
Our lives seem entwined since the moment we were conceived. We had the same due date. I showed up a little early. He arrived just 20 days later. Our paths seem parallel; similar experiences shaping similar people creating similar understandings about the world around us. Far from the same, we take different roads to get to the same place, but we seem to want to be in the same place. We are both left-handed and we can't purse our lips to whistle, only a smile will do. Just mere coincidence, yet, uniquely shared.
"A diamond in the rough," was what he called me when our paths finally crossed. I had to laugh... silly line, but he was not chasing me. He just took notice and went along his way. Did he know I wished to meet a guy like him one day in the future so, I could spend the rest of my life with him? I knew that it was you that I wanted, but I had no idea it was YOU. The gravitational spin just kept throwing us back together until shortly when it never let us part. We had both come out of long relationships with those who were not for us. He told me he just wanted to be friends... I agreed, but we have not spent a night apart since that moment.
My grandmother, before she passed, had told me that I would know "the one" when I met him. Little did she know what a skeptic I was. In hindsight, I know she brought us together. We met in Palisades Park, the town with the same name as the amusement park where my grandmother first met my grandfather at all those years ago. Our first apartment was a short block from the town she lived in when she met her love. The day we were approved for a home loan, my uncle/her son changed the locks on a house for sale for the same amount (no houses were going that low at that time). Our future home. Shortly after, we found out that my grandmother's life started in the same town and she had gone to school at the school where her great-grandchildren will go. Actually, no one knew until her sister heard where I lived and shared their story.
Stories of soul mates and love at first sight always seemed ridiculous to me, but yet, I have now seen the wellspring of these fanciful tales. Who knows if its happily ever after or just happily right now. What does it matter? With him, I want today to last forever.
Happy Birthday my love. Thank you for being exactly you. You make this journey more than I ever thought could be. You took my tear drop and showed me the rainbow inside, you are my soul's prism.
Friday, December 31, 2010
A New Page
December and January are quite a whirlwind for me. There are so many beginnings and endings that happen in such a brief amount of time. My birthday, Christmas, NewYear's, my husband's birthday, our anniversary, and both daughters birthdays all within a 6 week time frame. Each calendar year, from my perspective, represents a year in my life. A clear segment in the evolution of the person I am becoming. The closing of a calendar marks another year since I was born, married, been a mom, been a mother of of 2. I almost envision it in my mind like a chapter in a book and tonight, I turn a page. Tonight, the bold print will be centered on the page and it will say "2011" in large font. I do not know exactly where in this book the chapter appears. Hopefully, it is in the beginning of the book, but it could be near the end. The previous chapter promises of happiness and love who knows where it will take us.
I talk a lot about seeing myself as flawed, but that is not quite accurate. People aren't flawed, they just are... the very nature of being alive is that every quality can be positive or negative depending on its relationship with the particular set of circumstances. I think of human beings as masses of genectic substance that are inherently us. This essence drives use to be a certain way and want certain things, but doesn't dictate our being. This substance is shaped and molded by the world around us. Our experiences, whether we perceive them as being good or bad, result in each of us being completely unique. Through our shared experiences, we gain similar understandings of our world. We cannot survive without those connections to others. Each year, I can feel the evolution of who I am. I am just a little more knowledgeble that the year before. I realize which connections help me to thrive and which are okay to let go. I learn about myself through others. Each interaction gives us the opportunity to choose a reaction. These choices can teach you volumes about yourself and others. I learned a lot this year.
Somewhere in this novel, the protagonist forgot who she was, however as the chapter, "2010" closes, she begins to realize her passive journey does not fulfill her active mind. The protagonist feels the light emerging in her heart, she realizes she has a calling. She does not quite know yet what it is, but the energy, the spirit, is calling her... calling to her essence. She is confident in one fact: she will take each experience as it comes and she can't wait to meet the woman who emerges.
HAPPY, HEALTHY NEW YEAR!
I talk a lot about seeing myself as flawed, but that is not quite accurate. People aren't flawed, they just are... the very nature of being alive is that every quality can be positive or negative depending on its relationship with the particular set of circumstances. I think of human beings as masses of genectic substance that are inherently us. This essence drives use to be a certain way and want certain things, but doesn't dictate our being. This substance is shaped and molded by the world around us. Our experiences, whether we perceive them as being good or bad, result in each of us being completely unique. Through our shared experiences, we gain similar understandings of our world. We cannot survive without those connections to others. Each year, I can feel the evolution of who I am. I am just a little more knowledgeble that the year before. I realize which connections help me to thrive and which are okay to let go. I learn about myself through others. Each interaction gives us the opportunity to choose a reaction. These choices can teach you volumes about yourself and others. I learned a lot this year.
Somewhere in this novel, the protagonist forgot who she was, however as the chapter, "2010" closes, she begins to realize her passive journey does not fulfill her active mind. The protagonist feels the light emerging in her heart, she realizes she has a calling. She does not quite know yet what it is, but the energy, the spirit, is calling her... calling to her essence. She is confident in one fact: she will take each experience as it comes and she can't wait to meet the woman who emerges.
HAPPY, HEALTHY NEW YEAR!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Suspension of Disbelief
There is an agreement between actors and their audience. You may not even realize it, but while you are watching others act, you have agreed to suspend reality and accept the world as they depict it. It is their job to provide you with all the tools you need to do so such as a storyline that smudges the lines between the common perception of reality and the perspective of the actor/playwright. It allows you to be swept away by the breeze and immersed into the murky depths of another world. It allows you to experience, for a moment in time, the existence of fairies, goblins, magic and that good always prevails. There is no consequence for buying into these alternate realities for a spell just the possibility of a unique experience where we can transcend the limits the physical worlds presents us.
As children, we do not need a particular situation to agree to believe... children just believe. Through their eyes, the world is full of possibility. They are unaware of its bounds for they have never experienced them. Why can't a snowman survive in the summer? or Santa look different every time he is seen? Children want to believe in the things that give them pleasure and joy. When given a glass with water to the middle line, they are happy to have water and see the promise of fun which may emerge. She sees the possibilities of faith. She wants to live in a world full of mystery because she does not fear the unknown. Her spirit is pure. She does not know pain. She does not worry that life may not live up to her vision of the world.
My journey was like most, long and winding. At the perfect point in time, when I stopped believing in all that made this world extraordinary, my daughters came into my life. They have taught me that even though I have experienced the boundaries of this world and know that darkness can be in light, I can choose to suspend those feelings and remember the magic of the possibility... the possibility born of hope.
As children, we do not need a particular situation to agree to believe... children just believe. Through their eyes, the world is full of possibility. They are unaware of its bounds for they have never experienced them. Why can't a snowman survive in the summer? or Santa look different every time he is seen? Children want to believe in the things that give them pleasure and joy. When given a glass with water to the middle line, they are happy to have water and see the promise of fun which may emerge. She sees the possibilities of faith. She wants to live in a world full of mystery because she does not fear the unknown. Her spirit is pure. She does not know pain. She does not worry that life may not live up to her vision of the world.
My journey was like most, long and winding. At the perfect point in time, when I stopped believing in all that made this world extraordinary, my daughters came into my life. They have taught me that even though I have experienced the boundaries of this world and know that darkness can be in light, I can choose to suspend those feelings and remember the magic of the possibility... the possibility born of hope.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Mythical Creature: The Other Wife
Parenthood. The joys are limitless, but the strains can be as well. The first time we held our daughter we fell in love again... little did we know that the first sound of her crying was the starter gun on our competition for who does the most for our family...
"This isn't quite the way you said it would be." Huh? We're happy. Have 2 beautiful girls. What was it supposed to be like? "I thought I would have less to do around the house." Oh. You are referring to our decision for me to stay home. What chores do you exactly do that overwhelms you? The garbage. Yard work. Car maintenance, I mean, you are an automotive technician. "Well, I know you do a lot." Damn straight I do. 24 hrs a day. "I told a guy at work the other day that I needed to get home to do chores and he poked fun at me cause he doesn't have to do that stuff. His wife takes out the garbage, does the yard work... she thinks he does enough just working, that he should just come home and rest." Silence.
This was mild compared to what I have heard other husbands say of their stay at home wives. I understand that from his perspective he imagines the freedom of Sunday afternoons with his feet up and cartoons on TV. He leaves me in the morning on the computer trying to pry my eyes open to read my work e-mails with a cup of coffee and as soon as he returns, so do I, to the position in front of the computer in an effort to gain back my sanity. Does he imagine the middle filled with much of the same? His thoughts exaggerated by his love and longing for his little girls. Maybe he thinks that I do not understand the sacrifices he makes... funny, don't you think? Let me remind him of the many mythical creatures that help him along the way...
Where does all the hair go that falls off all of our pets? (2 Golden Retrievers and 2 cats) or the wrappers and stuff that you and the kids scatter around through the house? How do the toys always seem to end up back in the spot they began? Perhaps an elf. I imagine him high strung with red hair and a beard cursing at his once clean path to a never appearing pot o' gold. Is that a fairy I saw with the toilet wand who made it so sparkling clean? The spots that you leave every morning on the mirror disappear into thin air by the time you return in the evening perhaps she lent a hand there too. I can only imagine an ogre would be picking up all your dirty clothes & boxer shorts lugging them down to the basement below. However, once fresh and clean, an ogre wouldn't do, maybe its another fairy who returns them to our room. Who does the dishes? Changes the diapers? Dusts the walls? Oh my, maybe we'll never know. Better yet, "the other wife" might live here, a creature who is most rare. She can do it all in a single day while singing a song and dancing the jig telling her husband how she wouldn't exist if he wasn't so big and brave. Oh wait, cannot be for the lawn would also be trim.
My husband makes me happy. He is a good Dad and works very hard for us girls. I would never let him think less, but I slowly leaned over and whispered in his ear, "The grass is always greener in fantasy land. Does your friend live next to the jolly green giant?"
"This isn't quite the way you said it would be." Huh? We're happy. Have 2 beautiful girls. What was it supposed to be like? "I thought I would have less to do around the house." Oh. You are referring to our decision for me to stay home. What chores do you exactly do that overwhelms you? The garbage. Yard work. Car maintenance, I mean, you are an automotive technician. "Well, I know you do a lot." Damn straight I do. 24 hrs a day. "I told a guy at work the other day that I needed to get home to do chores and he poked fun at me cause he doesn't have to do that stuff. His wife takes out the garbage, does the yard work... she thinks he does enough just working, that he should just come home and rest." Silence.
This was mild compared to what I have heard other husbands say of their stay at home wives. I understand that from his perspective he imagines the freedom of Sunday afternoons with his feet up and cartoons on TV. He leaves me in the morning on the computer trying to pry my eyes open to read my work e-mails with a cup of coffee and as soon as he returns, so do I, to the position in front of the computer in an effort to gain back my sanity. Does he imagine the middle filled with much of the same? His thoughts exaggerated by his love and longing for his little girls. Maybe he thinks that I do not understand the sacrifices he makes... funny, don't you think? Let me remind him of the many mythical creatures that help him along the way...
Where does all the hair go that falls off all of our pets? (2 Golden Retrievers and 2 cats) or the wrappers and stuff that you and the kids scatter around through the house? How do the toys always seem to end up back in the spot they began? Perhaps an elf. I imagine him high strung with red hair and a beard cursing at his once clean path to a never appearing pot o' gold. Is that a fairy I saw with the toilet wand who made it so sparkling clean? The spots that you leave every morning on the mirror disappear into thin air by the time you return in the evening perhaps she lent a hand there too. I can only imagine an ogre would be picking up all your dirty clothes & boxer shorts lugging them down to the basement below. However, once fresh and clean, an ogre wouldn't do, maybe its another fairy who returns them to our room. Who does the dishes? Changes the diapers? Dusts the walls? Oh my, maybe we'll never know. Better yet, "the other wife" might live here, a creature who is most rare. She can do it all in a single day while singing a song and dancing the jig telling her husband how she wouldn't exist if he wasn't so big and brave. Oh wait, cannot be for the lawn would also be trim.
My husband makes me happy. He is a good Dad and works very hard for us girls. I would never let him think less, but I slowly leaned over and whispered in his ear, "The grass is always greener in fantasy land. Does your friend live next to the jolly green giant?"
Monday, December 13, 2010
MY FIRST BLOG AWARD
Thank you so much to *Muddy Feet* for awarding me with my first blog award. It was exactly what I needed at the perfect time... thank you.
1. Thank & link back to the person who awarded you this.
2. Share 7 things about yourself.
3. Pay it forward to 15 recently discovered great bloggers.
4. Contact those bloggers and tell them about their Blog Award!
7 Things about Me
1. I have 2 daughters who will be ages 4 and 2 just after the new year begins.2. My best friend is my husband and life has been a dream with him in my life.
3. As a mostly stay at home Mom, my main job is to manage my home and raise happy kids.
4. Two days a week, I become my alter ego... a Professor who teaches at a local University.
5. Born in CA, raised in NJ... I love where I live.
6. Life is good... bad times are the moments when life gives us the skills to fully enjoy the good times.
7. Hoping that one day, my writing will transcend my being.
Here are the sites I am Paying it forward to (a few more to be added):
http://luvinmylilmonkeys.blogspot.com/
http://mommy2twogirls.blogspot.com
http://www.nontypicalmom.com
http://www.peaceloveandmommy.blogspot.com/
http://ifyoucouldseewhatisee.blogspot.com/
http://www.sofiasworld.org/
http://thrumommieiez.blogspot.com
http://unlikelyorigins.blogspot.com
http://practicalfrugality.blogspot.com
http://www.acceptingdad.com
http://motherhoodwtf.com/
http://www.theteethingmom.com/
http://www.sassysillyspunkymomma.com/
http://somuchmorethanamom.com/
Friday, December 10, 2010
The greatest gift
I spend a lot of my time off in thought... thinking of how people behave and interact and how I have come to understand the world around me. In one respect, that sounds all philosophical and nerdy, but its my job and I love what I do. I teach young college students complex theories of interpersonal communication, what the hell does that even mean??? LOL. Researchers use complex words to describe ordinary events in extraordinary ways. How better to bring the thoughts to life then the creation of narratives (slightly modified for privacy/ anonymity)? Its amazing how much you can get to know yourself when you think about these things.
Who am I? Like most women, my emotions have depth beyond my capacity and I can literally feel them flowing over at times like the fizz on a soda poured too quickly. I view myself as flawed, but embrace who I am and see myself as a work in progress. I believe each day is an opportunity to learn something new about myself and each moment, an opportunity to become the person I strive to be. I like who I am. I am happy. I would be proud for my daughters to be like me. I often try to think of what my parents provided me that allowed me the self-confidence to love who I am and the insight that I am worth getting to know. There was a moment, in time, when someone robbed me of my worth... how did I gain it back? How did my parents provide me with the tools to make that moment a moment of strength not weakness?
Unconditional love. My parents loved each other and each child with the same unconditional love. The love in my family is consistent. We love each other in the bad times as much as we love each other in the good. We are far from perfect. We have endured great pains, but we never faltered. When I screamed and yelled and tested my mother in my teen age years, just begging her to tell me that she was done with me. She never did. She just told me she loved me and that would never change. My father is very stoic, a man of little words, but, his daughter knows that no matter what he is always proud. Even though there might have been times when my judgment didn't deserve it, he knew that my spirit would rise above it. My parents never got caught up in the details. They knew that I would be amazing in the end. They were like a trampoline... they made me laugh, feel light as a feather, let me sink as low as I needed before they would lift me up and throw me high... letting me be everything I wanted to be. Thank you for that...
This is the greatest and most simple gift I offer my daughters. From unconditional love, they were born. They will be given unconditional love each day that we share. I hope that I teach them through my actions the meaning of unconditional love just as my parents have offered me.
Who am I? Like most women, my emotions have depth beyond my capacity and I can literally feel them flowing over at times like the fizz on a soda poured too quickly. I view myself as flawed, but embrace who I am and see myself as a work in progress. I believe each day is an opportunity to learn something new about myself and each moment, an opportunity to become the person I strive to be. I like who I am. I am happy. I would be proud for my daughters to be like me. I often try to think of what my parents provided me that allowed me the self-confidence to love who I am and the insight that I am worth getting to know. There was a moment, in time, when someone robbed me of my worth... how did I gain it back? How did my parents provide me with the tools to make that moment a moment of strength not weakness?
Unconditional love. My parents loved each other and each child with the same unconditional love. The love in my family is consistent. We love each other in the bad times as much as we love each other in the good. We are far from perfect. We have endured great pains, but we never faltered. When I screamed and yelled and tested my mother in my teen age years, just begging her to tell me that she was done with me. She never did. She just told me she loved me and that would never change. My father is very stoic, a man of little words, but, his daughter knows that no matter what he is always proud. Even though there might have been times when my judgment didn't deserve it, he knew that my spirit would rise above it. My parents never got caught up in the details. They knew that I would be amazing in the end. They were like a trampoline... they made me laugh, feel light as a feather, let me sink as low as I needed before they would lift me up and throw me high... letting me be everything I wanted to be. Thank you for that...
This is the greatest and most simple gift I offer my daughters. From unconditional love, they were born. They will be given unconditional love each day that we share. I hope that I teach them through my actions the meaning of unconditional love just as my parents have offered me.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
What kind of Santa am I?
This is the year. The year the girls, especially my oldest, are really going to engage in the magic of Christmas. This is the year when I pose a question that i have never asked myself before... what kind of Santa am I? So, this year more than any year before, each moment is the beginning of traditions we will refine through the years.
The thanks has been given, the turkey's been cooked, its time to awake them from their summer slumber. The boxes are open. The decorations glisten. The small gazing eyes glimmer as the stockings emerge. The promise of wonder whispers into the room riding on Jack Frost's breath. I start spinning the tale of a man in a red suit with a belly of jelly and a laugh that bellows, "HO! HO! HO!" He flies through the night with his reindeer of eight as all the good children sleep. So behave and he will stop by our Christmas tree and bring you the gift you desire. To the mall, we go and see if we spy Old Kris Kringle so we can bend his ear. Dear Santa, my friend, can you bring me doll? A baby for my no longer "baby" girl. As we drive home, I begin to sing how all-knowing Santa watches, my daughters smile for more. Singing carols, hoping for snow with mugs of hot chocolate milk. The stars of heaven begin to fall to earth and sparkle around town. From the warmth of our car, we will admire our neighbors who are spreading holiday cheer with snow men that wave and Santas that fly and presents all in a row. I will tuck my kids in, kiss their foreheads and pray that the sugarplums they dream of are dripping with sugar while I run around sprinkling magic snow that does not melt and hope that my HO! HO! HO!s will not be too loud.
What kind of Santa am I? I am hoping I am the jolliest, the most magical one around. I am in a long line of proud Santas and one day, she will think of me when she asks herself, "What kind of Santa am I?"
The thanks has been given, the turkey's been cooked, its time to awake them from their summer slumber. The boxes are open. The decorations glisten. The small gazing eyes glimmer as the stockings emerge. The promise of wonder whispers into the room riding on Jack Frost's breath. I start spinning the tale of a man in a red suit with a belly of jelly and a laugh that bellows, "HO! HO! HO!" He flies through the night with his reindeer of eight as all the good children sleep. So behave and he will stop by our Christmas tree and bring you the gift you desire. To the mall, we go and see if we spy Old Kris Kringle so we can bend his ear. Dear Santa, my friend, can you bring me doll? A baby for my no longer "baby" girl. As we drive home, I begin to sing how all-knowing Santa watches, my daughters smile for more. Singing carols, hoping for snow with mugs of hot chocolate milk. The stars of heaven begin to fall to earth and sparkle around town. From the warmth of our car, we will admire our neighbors who are spreading holiday cheer with snow men that wave and Santas that fly and presents all in a row. I will tuck my kids in, kiss their foreheads and pray that the sugarplums they dream of are dripping with sugar while I run around sprinkling magic snow that does not melt and hope that my HO! HO! HO!s will not be too loud.
What kind of Santa am I? I am hoping I am the jolliest, the most magical one around. I am in a long line of proud Santas and one day, she will think of me when she asks herself, "What kind of Santa am I?"
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Lurking all around me
Life is good. I truly believe it. As I have written before, I believe people to be good and generally, misunderstood. They usually are motivated for the right reasons, but can fail in their execution to convey it to others. There are some who cannot see the beauty of the human spirit, perhaps from pain or from fear, but they do not see what I see and they lurk all around me.
No matter what the moment, no matter what the time... they appear... in many different shapes and sizes. Whether its the person who preaches the country is falling apart, the person who claims that no one is able to understand or that people are generally gullible and dumb... you try your best to recruit me, but I just smile to myself and think, I'm glad I see through a different set of lenses. Mine may be tinted a shade of rose, but they are clear and my eyes are open... I just see it differently.
Perhaps people are generally unaware, but there is so much to know how can one know it all. What is important to one, is insignificant to another. The cross you bear is heavy, and perhaps heavier than the next, but what is light as a feather for one, to another is as heavy as a brick. Does only one deserve help? Every moment has more than one meaning.... did she just say hello or did she have an agenda? Are others there to annoy you or enrich your life? Is she mean or is she just scared that no one will like her so she cuts to the chase? Does a moment define a person? What is better for one is not necessarily better for another? In the end, what does it matter? Your ability has no bearing on mine, your possessions, no reflection of me. Some one always has less, some one always has more. At times, I seem to encounter those who are competing for worst life ever or even perhaps, best. I wish I had a pocket full of trophies just to make their day. Perhaps they could then see.
Fuzzy little bunnies do not bounce around my feet and rainbows do not shine over every place I go, but I strive to be positive and to share that energy with others. When I encounter some one who doesn't see things quite the way I do, I try my best to smile and maybe show them another way. Its not about being right, its about being happy. I hope my daughters can see the good in people and the beauty in life and not understand a lurkers point of view.
No matter what the moment, no matter what the time... they appear... in many different shapes and sizes. Whether its the person who preaches the country is falling apart, the person who claims that no one is able to understand or that people are generally gullible and dumb... you try your best to recruit me, but I just smile to myself and think, I'm glad I see through a different set of lenses. Mine may be tinted a shade of rose, but they are clear and my eyes are open... I just see it differently.
Perhaps people are generally unaware, but there is so much to know how can one know it all. What is important to one, is insignificant to another. The cross you bear is heavy, and perhaps heavier than the next, but what is light as a feather for one, to another is as heavy as a brick. Does only one deserve help? Every moment has more than one meaning.... did she just say hello or did she have an agenda? Are others there to annoy you or enrich your life? Is she mean or is she just scared that no one will like her so she cuts to the chase? Does a moment define a person? What is better for one is not necessarily better for another? In the end, what does it matter? Your ability has no bearing on mine, your possessions, no reflection of me. Some one always has less, some one always has more. At times, I seem to encounter those who are competing for worst life ever or even perhaps, best. I wish I had a pocket full of trophies just to make their day. Perhaps they could then see.
Fuzzy little bunnies do not bounce around my feet and rainbows do not shine over every place I go, but I strive to be positive and to share that energy with others. When I encounter some one who doesn't see things quite the way I do, I try my best to smile and maybe show them another way. Its not about being right, its about being happy. I hope my daughters can see the good in people and the beauty in life and not understand a lurkers point of view.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
The Thought of You
When I awoke this morning, you were apart of me. We shared a future. I could feel the depth of your presence, the hope of your smile and the desire to protect you. When I drifted off in thought, I could imagine our first moments together, how you felt, how you smelled... the beginning of our journey together and the final piece of my heart in place. Everything just felt right... everything fell in place... the unknown brought excitement of each adventure we would share. But, as I fall asleep tonight, I realize you were just a dream, perhaps now apart of my past or future yet to come, but not in the fabric of my present. With darkness, comes the knowledge that it won't be you... for just a moment, I ache for the thought of you.
Friday, November 26, 2010
My Mother's Mother
As the second of thirteen grandchildren, I was blessed with time. My mother was the oldest of six and her youngest sibling was an uncle at ten. I remember my grandmother when her family was still young and most still living at home. I was blessed with witnessing my grandmother in her youth and spent many years with a woman who died well before her time. Shortly after she held her last grandchild for the first time, she became an eternal story.
For some reason, I cannot separate the ideals of the 1950s and my impressions and memories of Grandma. She was a lady. She was always dressed well. Even in a jogging suit, she looked so put together. She had her hair set by the salon and slept in hair nets to keep it in place. Her hair was usually a deep red to brown, her eyes were green. It was short, but wavy. Her make-up was always done. Her nails were usually manicured. She wore pearl nail polish. She was conservative in dress... a silk shirt, slacks, nice shoes and plenty of gold jewelery. She was fit and conscious of her figure. She always smelled nice and her skin was always soft. She prided herself on how young she looked and when we walked to church, she would joke that people thought she was my mother not my grandmother. She was gentle and not. She was a great cook and doting wife. Quite sassy and opinionated. She would quickly tell me if my shirt was not of her taste, but she loved me. We made cookies every Christmas and we had matching aprons. I remember pressing Hershey kisses in cookies, red and green sprinkles, but especially the anisette cookies she made. Even after she passed, we all had lots of cookies for months.
I lived in the same town as her until about high school and across the street until I was five. We ate dinner at her house every Sunday. In the Summer, the menu included fresh crabs, swims in the pool and making flower necklaces with the white flowers from the grass. Her sister lived in the house behind hers. We knew every one on the block. The town was mostly Italian and you would have never guessed that my grandmother was born a Dutch Protestant, not a literal Roman Catholic. Her house was always immaculate. The carpets always soft and clean. Everything was blue except the basement that was red. She had statues of elephants, I often wondered if it was due to her own liking of elephants or the fact that my grandfather was a Republican councilman. When she would babysit me, she would give me special treatments. She would bathe me, rub either Nivea or special perfumed lotion on me, wrap my hair in a towel, hug me and later, tuck me in. Sometimes, I was tucked in between my Uncle Dean and my brother... I didn't know how lucky I was.
I can still hear her laugh. She loved life. Her laugh was infectious, her smile constant. It was a little like a cackle, but it was hers and it made me smile. It has been so long since I have seen her, but when I close my eyes, I can feel her there. The Christmas before she fell ill, I was twenty years old. I was talking to her about marriage and kids and life. She turned to me and told me that when I met the man for me that I would know. She had told me years ago that she knew my father was the one for my mother. I believe her to be right or maybe, she trained me to be a hopeless romantic. She loved my grandfather. This Thanksgiving my cousin reminded me how thankful I am to have these memories and so much more. I just figured I would share my images of her.
For some reason, I cannot separate the ideals of the 1950s and my impressions and memories of Grandma. She was a lady. She was always dressed well. Even in a jogging suit, she looked so put together. She had her hair set by the salon and slept in hair nets to keep it in place. Her hair was usually a deep red to brown, her eyes were green. It was short, but wavy. Her make-up was always done. Her nails were usually manicured. She wore pearl nail polish. She was conservative in dress... a silk shirt, slacks, nice shoes and plenty of gold jewelery. She was fit and conscious of her figure. She always smelled nice and her skin was always soft. She prided herself on how young she looked and when we walked to church, she would joke that people thought she was my mother not my grandmother. She was gentle and not. She was a great cook and doting wife. Quite sassy and opinionated. She would quickly tell me if my shirt was not of her taste, but she loved me. We made cookies every Christmas and we had matching aprons. I remember pressing Hershey kisses in cookies, red and green sprinkles, but especially the anisette cookies she made. Even after she passed, we all had lots of cookies for months.
I lived in the same town as her until about high school and across the street until I was five. We ate dinner at her house every Sunday. In the Summer, the menu included fresh crabs, swims in the pool and making flower necklaces with the white flowers from the grass. Her sister lived in the house behind hers. We knew every one on the block. The town was mostly Italian and you would have never guessed that my grandmother was born a Dutch Protestant, not a literal Roman Catholic. Her house was always immaculate. The carpets always soft and clean. Everything was blue except the basement that was red. She had statues of elephants, I often wondered if it was due to her own liking of elephants or the fact that my grandfather was a Republican councilman. When she would babysit me, she would give me special treatments. She would bathe me, rub either Nivea or special perfumed lotion on me, wrap my hair in a towel, hug me and later, tuck me in. Sometimes, I was tucked in between my Uncle Dean and my brother... I didn't know how lucky I was.
I can still hear her laugh. She loved life. Her laugh was infectious, her smile constant. It was a little like a cackle, but it was hers and it made me smile. It has been so long since I have seen her, but when I close my eyes, I can feel her there. The Christmas before she fell ill, I was twenty years old. I was talking to her about marriage and kids and life. She turned to me and told me that when I met the man for me that I would know. She had told me years ago that she knew my father was the one for my mother. I believe her to be right or maybe, she trained me to be a hopeless romantic. She loved my grandfather. This Thanksgiving my cousin reminded me how thankful I am to have these memories and so much more. I just figured I would share my images of her.
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