Thursday, August 30, 2012

So Far

The Sophomore announced yesterday that she is considering becoming a high school drop-out. School has been in session for only 3 days. Three. I asked her for a reason. "I don't like people". Sugar sweet, that girl. She gets her surliness from her dad.


I need a new car. I can't afford one, but I need one. Like, yesterday. I really, really want a Smart Car. It can only hold the driver and one other person. One! I would hold a daily contest to see which child was the nicest and that's who would get a ride. Hands down, I bet my kids learn to speed walk to school.


I told The Husband that I wanted a fern. My exact words : "You know, a small, little fern." I even used hand motions to indicate how small. I'm fairly certain I also talked real slow. This is what he came home with:
I wanted a plant to sit on the kitchen counter. Supposedly, Todd never heard the word 'small' (still not sure how he missed the hand motions). This is just more proof that no one in this house listens to me. I don't even know why I bother talking. I'm just going to go sit in my Smart Car.

Monday, August 27, 2012

Hyperventilate On Happiness

You really can't appreciate silence until it arrives. I want to gather it all up and bathe in it. I had forgotten what an empty house feels like. Now I remember and oh, how I've missed it.

I honestly think mothers deserve some kind of an award on the 1st day of school. Some large, gold emblem that proves you made it through the summer and didn't harm anyone (too badly). It should just appear on your doorstep that first school day. Like the manna from heaven in the Bible. Except, I want mine to be shiny so I can wear it. Too much?

I'm trying to catch up on all I couldn't do while the children were here. You know, stuff like sitting. All by myself. With no one demanding I entertain them or break up a fight. Sitting is hard work. I may just have to take a nap too.

Happy new school year everyone.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

For You

5 years. In a marriage, that's a celebration year. But, what is it when you have missed someone that long? Lived without them present in your every day? I'm not quite sure what you do with that. 5 years feels like some kind of a hallmark. But my mind can't really decipher it.

Grief and Sadness are strange things. Time seems to be the only balm to coat it's edges. When you so desperately miss someone, Time feels slow and cruel. There is no walking around it, only through it.

I've come to understand a lot in the last 5 years. Well, as far as Grief goes. In the beginning, it's all consuming. Time seems to slowly gather it in and tuck it away, only to be unleashed in unannounced visits. The heart ache never disappears. I really don't think it's supposed to. Soul-born love doesn't work that way.

This is the saddest day of the year for me. Not his birthday. Not Father's Day. This day. This ordinary August day. The one 5 years ago that slowed my world and forced it onto a different path. One not of my choosing.

But in the Sad, even within it's darkest depths, there has always been a light. At times, it's been hard to see it. At others, it's so blinding it makes me smile. When you hold Love and Grief together, I guess that's what happens.

My dad would want me to smile today. To chase away the Sad. To look at his grandkids and let them they are cherished. To tell a joke. To Remember Who You Are. And to know, with unwavering faith, that he is here, no matter the distance.

So, for today. I will smile.

And I will remember.

For you.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Random And A Little Whine

Survival. That's all I'm doing. It's all I have been doing for weeks. The end of summer seems to suck away all my brain cells. I'm not kidding. I think they leak out of my ears at night.

I can barely recall what we have been doing for the last 2 weeks. I guess that's what happens when you only have half your brain left. I know I took my kids to the mall for school shopping. That event is seriously burned into my memory. Like a nightmare. An hour in to it all I decided that they should have liquid Valium in cups waiting for you at every mall entrance. Even if they charged $1,000 dollars for each cup, I'd pay. Actually, I'd give them a kid in exchange.

We made taffy. For the 4th year in a row. And, for the 4th time, it didn't turn out. I've decided that the failure is now our tradition. But the upside? It stays so gooey, it's easier to eat. Or to let the Angel Baby make a mess with it.

We had a party at my mom's house. A birthday party. For the house. In case you're wondering, her house is 22. It's an odd tradition we have celebrate for as long as I can remember. It strangely brings me quiet joy.

Child #1 turns 16 in a few weeks. I'm slightly freaked out about it. And truthfully, I rarely get freaked out. Stressed, yes. But not freaked out. The reality of her driving away with her friends or on a date, just does weird things to my mind. Actually, it pulls at my heart quite a lot.

I have 1 week until school starts. I don't know how many more brain cells I can afford to lose. A lot can happen in a week. Especially around here. Just a few days ago, Child #2 discovered she can fart on command. She beamed with pride when she demonstrated. I simply closed my eyes and wished I was the kind of person that had access to hard liquor.

Maybe I'll go back to the mall and search for some liquid Valium. A lot of it.

Monday, August 6, 2012

Hakuna Matata

Every now and then, when I least expect it, love, friendship and family comes together all at once.

There are times where I plan, coordinate and try to force family time to happen. It rarely turns out well and never like I intended. I don't know why that is. It's as if family memories want to surface naturally. Maybe that's how real memories are made. No planning. Just Being.

I guess we did set the date and pay for the tickets. But that simply set the stage. The rest, the really great parts, took care of themselves. Add in a lot of singing and dinner with the people I cherish most, and the day felt like unexpected magic. One to remember.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

By The Very Definition

It's Sisters Day. A Foster-Mandated Holiday. In truth, it's the day I made a tradition years ago so that these girls could look at each other at least one day a year and try to be grateful for sisters. To date, I don't think they've caught my vision. But yet, I persevere and require some form of love to be shown on this day. Annoying, but true.

Keeping in theme with the day, make sure you tell your sister you love her. I told my sister she reminded me of a hillbilly. I'm fairly certain she could sense my love all the way across the room. I can be sensitive and tender like that.