Through the Stillness

To take a trip through one’s life there are defining moments, things, or people that change you. They shape you into the person you are or are yet to be. I am going to open the story of my life and share those defining moments, things, or people–my snapshots. Snapshots will be a series of blog posts in no particular order.

Packing three kids in a backseat must have been a headache. Packing three kids in a backseat bickering and fighting for every inch of space with elbows jabbing and flying in the air must have been a nightmare. It never stopped my parents. They took us everywhere. We experienced every possible adventure as a family. My parents were either out of their mind or they were saints–or maybe both. This day was no different.

The gravel crackling under the car tires deadened the backseat quarrel. Elbows miraculously returned to their owners. Silence. Peace. Smirks on my parents faces appeared. I now know this smirk very well. Matt and I have the same smirk on Christmas or any other occasion where we give our kids presents. It is a gift from God to be able to have this smirk. My brothers and I sat in awe of the marina. Boats everywhere and the people all seemed to have smiles on their faces; it was dreamlike. We pull into a spot in the grass. My dad announces, “Here it is.” There it was. This old wooden boat in the grass. It was amazing. The boat seemed so big and so old. I couldn’t help but wonder if it would ever float. My dad told us it would take a lot of hard work and that he would need our help if we ever wanted to take it on the water. That winter, every spare moment we had we worked on it. Cleaning, sanding, cleaning some more, staining and varnishing the inside. Then replacing wood, sanding, sealing, and painting the exterior. Then spring came and we put the boat in the water. Gasping, hoping it would stay afloat and taking it for a ride for the first time down the river. That feeling? Well it was breathtaking. Knowing all the hard work we put in as a family paid off. Pat on the back to my parents. No wonder I have a love for old things.

I don’t remember how old I was. I know I was young…elementary school young. It was nighttime and I was taking a bath. My parents were talking. I heard who they were talking about and so I tuned out every noise in the old creaky house to eavesdrop. The next part isn’t my story to tell so I will be vague. I wasn’t mature enough to understand all of it. I knew what the definition of divorce was and I knew it was bad. It was my first memory of feeling that knot in my stomach. Up to that point, my life was in a bubble of seclusion. A perfect childhood away from contamination of bad things.

Devastated with tears rolling down my cheeks I got out of the bathtub, wrapped a towel around me and ran out seeking comfort from my parents. I remember the looks on their faces when they realized that I heard a conversation that was meant to be between husband and wife–not a little girl. They hugged me then sat me down on the couch and explained it in a matter that was meant for little ears. I never felt anger or resentment toward the divorcees. It was not my parents getting a divorce….by the way. My parents could not have handled it better.

That moment popped the bubble I was living in. I realized bad things could happen. I realized how divorce effects more than the couple going through it. I realized divorce happens to good people.

I would love to shelter my kids from these things, but I can’t. I would give anything for them to never feel that knot in their stomach. But. Being a parent is guiding them through the bad times because you never know what their bubble-popping moment will be.

This couple is now back together and has been for a long time. Them getting back together showed me that people make mistakes and can fix the mistakes they have made. No one is perfect. No one is meant to be perfect. Out of every bad thing, something good can come out of it too. In order to grow we can’t remain in bubbles. We have to see and experience good and bad.

(This was the first post in my so called series. I reverted it back to a draft after posting it. I may revert it back again. I don’t know. This is a hard one for me. I hate to kick around the dust of the past; it takes time for the dust to settle. I will say though that my bubble popping moment could have been much worse. Some are born into bad lives. Some have horrific things happen at young ages. My moment may seem like eating cake compared to what others have been through. Although it was a sad time; I know I am blessed that my life was and still could be considered sheltered.)

Sometimes I have flashes of shock. Total utter shock when I look at my kids. I’m a mom? Wow. Yes I am. I have two kids? Yes I do. Not to sound cliche but where has the time gone?

In five years I got married (to the right person) and became a mother of two kids. In five years I have become the person I was always meant to be.

Never have I felt more blessed. Never have I felt more secure. Never have I felt more tired.

I should be packing for our vacation but I don’t feel like it. I should/could be doing a lot of productive things but here I sit blogging.

Oliver’s first birthday party was so much fun. I am sad it is all over. Party planning is the best. Too bad I couldn’t make a living doing it. But oh…my sadness dissipates as I remind myself that Luke has a party next month.

My friend Breana and I recently went to visit the place we almost (could have) died in car crash. An old dirt road with fields and water that dead ends to an old house. I get the chills just thinking about it. The reason we went? An old friend of Breana’s died. He was there the night we crashed. As we stood by the water I couldn’t help thinking what if one or both of us died that night?

I am starting to get a few gray hairs. I don’t like to dye it. I like being natural but I don’t want to look old. Do you even care?

I have become obsessed with essential oils. Frankincense is my favorite. It also happens to be the most expensive one I buy. Figures.

Luke has my stubbornness. Good and bad. He also has my flair for being dramatic. Good and bad.

Oliver has my stubbornness too. I’m in trouble.

My mind keeps wandering to my to do list so I better stop being lazy and get to work.

Thanks for stopping by!

Recognizing the beauty of life. Knowing that love and passion create tranquility and purpose. Blessed. Blissfully happy. Fortunate. These feelings have overcome me and I never want them to leave. I wish I could bottle them into a solution. When hardships arise I could grab the solution, drink up and feel this way once again. Then again–life isn’t intended to be that way. You have to feel the downs in order to appreciate the ups.

Sunday was Mother’s day. A day to appreciate the moms in your life and to cherish the gift of being a mom. I had a good day. I thought a lot of my grandma but not in a sad way. The memories brought smiles instead of tears. Which is a nice change. I feel blessed to have had her as a grandma. Blessed to have my last living grandma. Blessed to have my mom. Blessed to have my mother-in-law. Not everyone can say that they have or had such wonderful role models in their life.

In appreciation to my mom, here are some things she has taught me:

~Laugh and don’t take life too seriously.

~Be yourself. If you want to wear a fuzzy cheetah print coat, by all means rock it like there’s no tomorrow.

~Rod Stewart can lift any bad mood. I am shaking my head as I type this because I loathed him as a teen. Now (not sure if it is because it reminds me of my mom) I love his music.

~Love and put faith in God.

~Did I mention not to take life too serious?

~Work hard.

~Use common sense.

~Life isn’t perfect or about being perfect.

~Sometimes you have to overlook the bad to see the good. This can apply to people, things…

I am learning everyday to become a better mom. To take things passed down from the mother figures in my life and apply to my own. But to also learn to do some things differently…my own little twist on life. I pray I never stop improving. Years from now to be able to look at my children and be proud of the hard work Matt and I have done. To leave a mark on my children that shouts, “My parents loved me and worked hard to help me become who I am today.”

Growing up, my grandma called it “rolling eyes”. She talked about it often. So often that I asked her to stop because she had me scared to have kids. She didn’t. Stubbornness runs deep in my family and I knew I had to just put up with it. Grandma never knew the medical term for “rolling eyes” and I never bothered to find out. To her it was a mystery that needed to be solved. Theories on where it originated, how it skips generations and who will be affected were an obsession. Truth be told, many of her theories made no sense. In one ear and out the other. I was convinced that I was immune to it…maybe it was denial or like I said, stubbornness runs deep in my family.

I found out I was pregnant with our first baby after we came back from our honeymoon. I was so excited that I thought of nothing else. There was a part of me that thought the day would never come…that I would never be a mother. So I enjoyed and cherished every moment; morning sickness and all. I never really thought of the possibility of our baby having “rolling eyes”. I just felt so blessed to be pregnant.

When Luke was born the first thing my grandma looked at was his eyes. She proudly announced that he did not have “rolling eyes” and relief washed over me. Grandma said she could tell right away when the babies in our family had it and I was desperate to believe it…so I did. My husband noticed the lazy eye before I did. The pediatrician said that if it was still there at six months we should get it checked out. So we waited. Around four months I started seeing the “rolling”. We kept hope that it was just a lazy eye…maybe I was imagining things. At six months he was diagnosed with Ocular Albinism.

I felt shame that I didn’t bother all my life to find out the real name of the disease. If I did, I could have researched and known that I had a 50% chance of passing on the gene to my children. Guilt, that it was my fault Luke would have so many struggles in his life. I felt shame and guilt but also so much more. The pain can not be described. Unless you have a child with a genetic disease, you’ll never truly understand. Needless to say, the following year was an adjustment. We shed a lot of tears. It took a long time to feel normal. Better said, get used too our new normal. But it happened. We even had a second child, Oliver, who does not have Ocular Albinism.

I would be lying if I said I still don’t feel some shame and guilt. I always will. I have accepted it though. I mean, if I had known there was a 50% chance, maybe I wouldn’t have kids. Unimaginable. What would our world be like without Luke and Oliver?

Gastroenteritis (the stomach virus) aka sneaky little jerk invaded our lives early Wednesday morning around four am. What started out as a night of much needed rest turned into a what Matt and I consider the worst days of our lives. Luke woke up around four am and announced (loudly) as he always does that he need to go to the bathroom. Matt went down to check on him. Not long after, I heard him yelling that he needed my help. What was I going to walk into to? Was there going to be pee sprayed on the floors and walls? Or worse poop everywhere? Or maybe Luke was just giving Matt a hard time. Which if that was the case, I’d be really ticked that I had to intervene.

The only light on in the house was the bathroom light. When I first walked in my eyes had not yet adjusted. All I saw was a puddle of bright red on the floor. He’s puking up blood was my first thought. I freaked a bit. My eyes adjust, my vision clears…my mind more alert as well and I realize that it wasn’t blood. It was all the fruit he had ate earlier. Gross but not scary like blood. Soon after the loose stools and fever arrive. We took him to the doctor later that day because he was also showing signs of his reoccurring ear infection. Antibiotic started for ear.

The sneaky little jerk strikes again. Thursday night close to midnight Oliver wakes up with projectile vomiting. Soon after loose stools and fever arrive. Both kids hit. I don’t need to go into details of what exited their little bodies but it was stomach churning. I have never been a weak stomached person but that stuff was pure nastiness. Two sick kids Friday and Saturday. Tired doesn’t even begin to explain how we felt. Matt and I were butt wiping zombies.

Sunday was the same routine as Friday and Saturday. Luke’s symptoms were starting to let up a bit so the day was better. Sunday evening Matt and I were convinced that we had beat this trifling little bastard. We were not going to let him attack us. Two sick kids were enough. We went to bed and both kids slept through the night. When I woke up Monday morning, I swore. All sorts of profanities went through my mind. My stomach churned and I knew what was coming. Same thing with my husband. The sneaky little jerk struck yet again but this time he was laughing at us. Why did we think we would get passed by? Sneaky little jerks show no mercy.

Yesterday was one of the hardest days of my life. It is scary when you feel like you can’t physically take care of your kids. It was only one day, I can’t imagine having a chronic illness where most of my days would be like that. I remember this one patient I had. She was in her forties and had two young girls aged ten and thirteen, I think. Anyways, she had MS. Saddest case I had ever seen. There were many times taking care of her I would be fighting back tears. As soon as I would leave the room, the tears would flow. She was always crying, talking about everything she was going to miss with her daughters. The only thing I could do was listen and hold her hand. Ugh, I am crying just thinking about it. MS is one of the sneakiest little jerks out there.

A random list of likes and dislikes.

1. I like warmth. Anything warm. Warm weather. Warm feet. Warm cup of coffee. Or tea. Warm bath. Warm blankets. Warm hubby laying next to me.

2. I like to think. I over think everything. Not in an distressful way. Some people over think and it makes them anxious. Thinking relaxes me. I enjoy it immensely. Except when my brain gets clogged (that is why I always keep journals).

3. I dislike when my brain is clogged.

4. I like to write.

5. I dislike Uggs. Never owned a pair and I wish they would vanish. One day, just vanish. Even if it was -10 degrees and they left people trudging through snow in stocking feet.

6. I like Audrey Hepburn. Even before it was trendy to like her. Her style is amazing and timeless. Her movies are classics.

7. I dislike microaggression- a non-physical form of aggression involving demeaning implications and other subtle insults (even though I have been guilty of it myself).

8. I like the word microaggression and need to start using more often.

9. I like quirky people.

10. I dislike people who are afraid to be quirky.

11. I like my kids and kids in general.

12. I like how exciting life is for kids and want that kind of excitement back in my own life.

13. I dislike micromanagement.

14. Apparently, I like words that start with micro.

15. I like forgiveness. When I hold a grudge it’s like this constant agonizing parasite that eats away at my soul.

16. I dislike unfriendly competition.

17. I dislike when my kids are sick. Luke is sick right now and he is pitiful and it gives me the same feeling as when I hold a grudge.

18. I like my husband. I love him, naturally, but I like him and that sometimes is harder than loving a person.

The End
( I like putting “the end” at closings)

I used to fly. No, not in an airplane. My actual body would float through the air. I would jump from the ground and land in trees. At night when everyone else was sleeping, I would fly up and down the stairs. Then I would wake up. Flying was what I dreamed about every single night. I was obsessed with flying and convinced that if I tried hard enough I could.

One afternoon when my brothers were playing cops and robbers or some boyish game, I set out on my mission. I found the two largest leaves from some plant in our yard, climbed on our picnic table, spread my wings (arms), took off, and BAMMMM, landed on my butt. That just made me more determined…

I was four and fearless, the youngest of three and a prissy tomboy bent on keeping up with my two brothers. I also had an insanely wild imagination, obviously. Maybe one day I’ll share more of my flying adventures, but for now this Mommy has a hungry Ollie to feed.

Yesterday I met a friend at a museum so we could take the kids to see Santa. Luke was so excited. He absolutely loves the museum and I do too. We arrived and immediately got in line. As a parent to young kids anytime I see a line, I cringe. Expecting any young child to wait patiently is unrealistic. I always expect and prepare for those moments of restlessness. This line was the best line I have ever seen. There was a guy with a guitar singing Christmas songs…it was almost magical. Luke and his friend danced with huge smiles, giggling and just had fun. The guitar man took turns and sang individually with each group and Luke even helped him play guitar. Once we got to Santa things changed fast. Luke hid behind something and I held his hand and gently brought him to Santa. Santa was not to thrilled to have to slow down and deal with a timid boy. Not one smile came from Santa. He simply directed me to sit on the arm of the chair with Luke on my lap. Luke sat there and stared at Santa. Santa did not look at Luke and the most importantly did not ask him what he wanted for Christmas. Instead Santa looked at me and told me Luke was a handful and he was going to get me Aspirin for Christmas. Santa proceeded to direct the helpers to snap the picture and asked how long the line was outside. When we went to leave he again said something about Luke being a handful. I would have been more understanding if Luke was kicking and screaming. Luke was quiet or I should say he was silent because nothing came out of his mouth. How exactly is timidity equate to being a handful?

The rest of the day Luke was sad and there was a major meltdown that I don’t even want to replay. Once we were home Luke took a much needed nap. I talked to my husband on the phone and we decided how we would handle it. When Luke woke up we talked. He said something about Santa not being nice and he was scared. I explained that the real Santa lives in the North Pole and he has helper Santas…unfortunately that one wasn’t the best. His response was, “Oh, I like the real Santa. Not the one at the museum.”

The Santa experience was a reminder of hard parenting is. You can’t always shelter them from the not so nice people. Magical moments turn ugly fast and that’s life and we can’t dwell on it. The most important thing is being there to help your kid get through it.

I truly am thankful for so many things in my life. Mostly, I am thankful for my little family. My husband and two little guys, Luke and Oliver, are all I need to feel complete. Yes I have others who I hold close to my heart, but my three guys are my world. I am so blessed! 🙂

I am also thankful that there were too many nurses so I don’t have to work today!