My Mother the gladiator

 I wish I was more like my mother. It's Christmas Eve and my sweet husband just cracked open the door and asked me if I wanted sushi from Takara restaurant or homemade chili. Prepared by him of course. At my parents house I'm sure my mother is busying herself over the hot stove to prepare the most mouth watering feast imaginable. Honey cured ham, mashed potatoes, and eggnog included. And this is not just a Christmas tradition. Every night when I was growing up, our hungry family would gather round the dining room table to a homemade dinner that looked and tasted as though it was the center spread for the "Better homes and gardens" magazine.

My mother is a 5'1 sprite of a woman with the soul of a gladiator. When something breaks around the house, most women go nag there tired husbands to bust out their burly muscles and power tools to fix it. Not my mother. Instead she gathers up her dainty little frame, her own collection of tools and fixes it herself. It's not unusual to come by my parents house in the peak of summer to find my mother perched on the roof with a chainsaw, cutting down tree branches.

My mother is made up of so many elements that are impressed upon my memory for eternity. I remember nestling up to her soft white blouse in church, breathing in her scent. To me she smells like a dewy spring mourning in a field of tulips. Sweet and endlessly comforting. I remember her soft whisper tickling my ear causing my cheek to twitch. I remember holding onto her tiny delicate hands, tracing the veins that run across them while her soprano voice tinkled out from behind a hymn book. She is the fabric that makes up who I am. I have been pieced together since the day I was born by this beautiful woman.

Recently my mother began her battle with breast cancer. As the gladiator that she is, she has not allowed this to change much. Tonight as always, she is busy preparing the house for her children to come visit on Christmas day. She's probably adding finishing touches to gifts that she has spent countless hours sewing herself. Even after her kids are all grown, she still spends her time making sure we are taken care of and that we all feel loved.

I hope she knows how much I love and cherish her. I want her to know that I still need her even though I now have children of my own. She is still the torch in the darkness that is guiding my life. I want her to know that she is not alone. I am shouting out a battle cry and fighting along side her until this battle is won.

I love you mom.

I'm in here

Some days I feel like I'm drowning to the bottom of a vast ocean never to be found again. "A mothers work is never done". Rings true in my heart like the church bells at a funeral. These days the messes seem to multiply at an impossible rate and the children's needs are endless. I love my children deep down to my very core but sometimes I can't help but to feel like I'm losing myself. It's 4:30 in the afternoon and I haven't even showered. Last night's make up haunts my face, blackening my eyes like some sort of zombie creature.

I'm starting to understand why mothers let themselves go. There's simply no time for petty things like showers or make up. People say that it's crucial to have "mommy time". "take care of yourself" they say. But for what? So I can keep up with societies standards of sexiness? My kids don't care if I'm sexy.

My life is not my own. It seems like in each child born to me, a piece of my soul has been buried deep with in them. I feel like the clock spins at an impossible speed, ticking away my time at twice the speed as when I was young. Maybe it's because I'm living not only my own life but the lives of my children's. Maybe this is the meaning of true selflessness.  My grandmother bore ten children into this world and is the most selfless person I know.

I know I am judged. I am the only one to be held responsible for the actions of my children. Now that my toddler is exercising his independence, I find myself questioning my tactic's and racking myself with guilt every minute of the day. It seems like no matter what I do I will be right and I will be wrong. Depends on the person who's judging me. People will tell you to trust your instincts but I feel like I'm muddling along with no compass to guide me.

For now I will keep taking deep breaths and muttering the mantra "This too shall pass"

 
{This entry was written as a therapy session for myself. Today was a gloomy and overcast day and I realize that not every day is like this. If I do choose to publish this it will be in the hopes that other mothers will find they are not alone if they are also feeling the same way.}

A love letter

Five years ago today, perched on the observation deck of the Stratosphere above the glittering lights of Las Vegas, I married this devastatingly handsome man.

Before we ever spoke our first words to each other I noticed his eyes. Deep emerald green, and lined with the most beautiful black lashes I had ever seen. There's a mischievous slant to his eyebrows and a twinkle in his eye that indicates that he may been a direct descendant of Peter Pan or Huckleberry Finn.

I fell in love with his hands first. When they wrap around my waist, the mere size of them makes me feel small and delicate in comparison. With these talented hands he has fixed everything from our car engines to the tiny broken chip boards in our children's beloved toys. His hands have toiled long and hard days to ensure our family wants for nothing. The have gently cradled our children when they cry and they are the place I go to at the end of the day to find peace and companionship.

His sense of humor is it's own force of nature.  I'm constantly amazed at his ability whip up a joke or a clever comeback out of thin air in any situation. Sometimes it get's him in trouble but the longer I know him, I recognize that this is one of his most precious gifts. It is the sword he wields against the darkness of the world to hold it at bay. There have been days that I thought I would be swallowed up with sadness. Days when I KNEW that things would never be ok again. But my hero would raise up his sword, gather up the light and positivity around him and plunge it deep into my soul, bringing me back to life.

Ever since the day we met, my life has been carried by an undercurrent of complete magic. Unexplainable things have happened. When he's near me thunder races through my veins and becomes the beat of my own heart. His essence has poured into every inch of my life.  I feel his constant love and support rallying around me, even when I'm at my utter worst. He is my twin flame, my soul mate, my love. I call him my dream maker.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The triumph of a tripod dog

My tenacious little toddler has come down with a drippy cold. Gym policy states that "no sick children shall pass through daycare doors whilst ill". So thus, I skipped the gym today. Normally I would run outside instead but in keeping with the Terrible Two's, D2 stripped off all his clothes, planted himself on the ground and refused to go. This was a battle I was not going to win. So despite the shining sun and delicious temperatures, we all crawled into our unmade bed and took a winters nap. When we awoke, the sun was in the middle of it's grand finale, showing off a bit with dazzling oranges and reds as it set behind the barn. Too cold to drag my rug rats outside for a run.

When my knight in shining armor came home from slaying dragons all day, aka work, we decided to hit the gym together. We dropped D2 off at grandma's house to be spoiled with Oreo cookies and 'Thomas the Train' and headed off into the night.

I thought that baby H would be happy sitting cherubically in his car seat while the gentle hum of the treadmill lulled him to sleep.  Boy was I wrong. After exactly one minute on the treadmill, he was contorting his face and wailing like a banshee.  I ran to the car, replaced the car seat for his beloved, blue, baby carrier, strapped him in and awkwardly began again. After one more minute on the treadmill and a few sideways glances from fellow gym goers, H had had enough. I whisked him away to the locker room for his millionth meal of the day and that was the end of that. By the time he was full and sleeping peacefully in his pouch, it was time to go. No workout.

When we got home I was still itching to go for a run. It was thirty two degrees outside, menacingly dark, and I was creeped out. I wondered how I could venture out into the night without worrying that a psychotic serial killer was going to jump out of the nearest bush and attack?  Then I remembered that I own a very burly looking pit bull. No psychopath would dare leave their bush to mess with me when Lucky was around. However there was a catch.

Our sweet dog lucky had been hit by a lifted, dually, Dodge truck six weeks ago. One week after we brought baby H home from the hospital. His leg had been broken in so many places that the only option to save our darling dog was to amputate his leg. We knew that Lucky was one of the most active dogs on the planet earth, and so we were heart broken. We also knew that Lucky was never one to back down from any physical challenge and so we also had hope. This is what Lucky looked like six weeks ago.

Lucky had been my running buddy. Together we had tackled deserted mountain trails, bustling city side walks and trained for a half marathon. Any time I ran with him I felt protected and safe. The last time I had taken him out was one week after his surgery and on the vets orders. She said it was important to keep the circulation going to his stump by staying active. So I strapped a leash on him for a walk around the block. When we were about half way done he began to slow and by three fourths of the way he was dragging behind me. It was devastating.

He went through a few weeks of dark doggy depression, rarely leaving the comforts of the couch. His cheerful demeanor didn't take long to return though. He has been happily chasing balls and greeting visitors at the door (minus the jumping which is nice) for a few weeks. So I decided to try him out again on a run to see how he would do.

I leashed him up and we busted out the back door into the crisp night air.  Music trickled through my head phones as we passed house after house decorated with colorful strings of Christmas lights. Lucky ran as though he still had four legs. His canine muzzle spread into a joyful smile. We tore up block after block until we once again reached the cozy glow of light pouring from the windows of our house. By the end Lucky was still bursting with energy and was practically pulling me along. I tallied up the mileage equaling two miles. Not much to brag about but Lucky did it. Three legs and all. My running buddy is back.

The beginning

 I sit here on my messy bed with my chunky seven week old as he nurses, listening to his contented baby noises as his belly fills with milk. Laundry covers the bedroom floor with monstrous piles of guilt. The boys room looks as though the glorious heavens opened up and spewed out every toy know to man kind. I'm convinced that the toys come alive at night and the mischievous little match box cars place themselves in the direct pathway to the bathroom for sleepy, unexpecting victims to impale their feet upon. The rest of the house is in a similar state. It will probably remain this way for the next eighteen years or so when my children are grown. Then I will be missing them terribly, wishing they were still small enough to kiss whenever I want to and turn my house upside down in two minutes flat.

I have dreams. Dreams of one day running a marathon. Dreams of finally taking a honeymoon with my husband. Dreams of being recognized as successful as a professional. Between diaper changes, singing the ABC's, and talking my toddler down from tantrums, I work towards these dreams.

On days that I don't go to the gym, I pack the kids into my super fly B.O.B stroller and hit the pavement with fish snacks, Sippy cups and Pandora in tow. I am working towards running my second half marathon in the spring with my best bud Melanie. Since I just gave birth to my second son seven weeks ago I can run about two SLOW miles, ending the session sputtering and gasping for air. But I love it. I love when my feet match up to the beat of the song blasting through my head phones. Its almost as though I'm dancing and my neighborhood is the background for some super awesome music video.

As far as becoming a professional something or other, I suppose I'm a jack of SOME trades. I have enjoyed testing out the waters in all sorts of fields. I am a certified beauty school drop out. This may seem like a waste to some but I can now whip up some seriously wicked hairstyles for my family. I've ventured into the college waters which was very valuable in reminding me how much I dislike sitting in a chair for hours and doing homework. I've also dabbled in the health field which l love. Anything regarding healthy living, life coaching and exercise lights a fire in me and I thrive on applying it to my daily life. Perhaps someday I will plunge deep into those waters professionally and decide to stay.

For now I am content knowing that I am doing the most important job in the world. Some may think that the things that fill my day aren't worth much. Sometimes I feel the same way. But then I pause and ask myself what else in the world I could be doing that would bring such satisfaction and purpose to my life? The things I teach my children are the foundation in which my son's will build their life. I am a curator of happiness and will someday become the voice in my children's heads.

Some days it's a thankless job. Some days I think that nothing I do matters. But then something happens. Perhaps my toddler points out a letter from the alphabet after singing the abc's for the gazillionth time or simply shares a toy with a friend without being told. Or maybe my baby gives me a big gummy smile because he recognizes me or perhaps he has gained an extra pound at his check up. Those are the moments when I know deep in my heart that I'm right where I need to be. I may not be influential over hundreds or thousands of people but I am more important than anyone in the world to two little beings. And that's all that I need to know.