Thomas and I watched Smallville this week. It's a tv series about Clark Kent before he was and as he became Superman. In this week's episode, Clark is shown how his life would have differed had he'd been raised by a Luthor, the family that is actually Superman's ultimate rival. Instead of being compassionate and a gentleman, Clark was cold-hearted and a killer. This got me to thinking...
My life has taken many different abrupt turns. My first was when my parents divorced when I was still too young to know. Then, my mother died, and I moved in with my Daddy and my Mom. Just five years later, I lost my precious Will. These are just the sharpest of turns in my life.
I'm wondering how life would have differed if each of these events hadn't occured. As far as my parents never divorcing, I don't have any way of imaging that. I have only known my parents to be apart. But my mother dying, that was tough. She was the parent that provided for me, to me, for so long. I wasn't old enough to appreciate like I do now what Daddy did and felt behind the curtains. I'm not trying to speak ill of the dead, but I wonder what I'd have become if I had continued to live with my mother. I don't think my mother or her boyfriend, Joey, were bad people; they were simply alcoholics. I'm certain, though, it wouldn't have been pleasant. Before anyone thinks bad of me for saying that, I will say my mother was very sick, and I know she was only trying to mask her pain from us and herself. But what a place for children to grow up!
For years, I wanted my baby back. I've come to realize, though, what kind of life he, and Thomas and I, would have had if he'd have lived. Will would have had little going for him. He was mentally handicapped. He would have struggled to master basic muscle movements. He would have had hearing and vision issues, more than likely. Thomas and I would have had to care for him continuously. It would have added stress to our marriage and finances. We would have had numerous hospital stays, doctor appointments, and more surgery. I fear his little body would have been racked with pain.
I am grateful for my tragedies, in different ways. My mother left a vacant spot. While this spot will never be quite filled, I am blessed with a second mother. Mom has never tried to be a replacement. She taught me to be a lady, if that's possible (considering my tom-boy ways). She encouraged me when others didn't. Mom has defended me, argued my side, and protected me, even when I didn't deserve it. She saw my potential and pushed me to meet it. She loves me like I'm her own. I'll always, always be a Daddy's girl, but I know Mom deserves some credit for who I have become.
Without my mother's death, I wouldn't have met Thomas and had my Will. With my baby Will, I will not deny I miss him. But with him, I would not have Erin, Nathan, or Caleb. I wouldn't have learned some of my most valued lessons. I wouldn't know the pride of having crayon-drawn Mother's Day cards. I wouldn't know the excitement my kids have when waving to me in the carline at school dismissal. I wouldn't have to learn to let my kids go as they grow up. I wouldn't be the me I am today.
In an odd sort of way, I can appreciate these events in my life. While I may define some of who I am by them, it would be impossible for me to be who I am without them. All of the events in my life, intertwining together, have led to who sits at this computer typing this.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
The things that come out of kids mouths...
My kids talk constantly; I'm think I know where they get it from (but I'll never admit it). If you ask my parents, they have a few stories about me. Like the night I thought a berlesque club had the best barbeque in town or when I came home from school and gave a science lesson on why a fart smell spreads. I have two short stories today. They are probably "You had to be there" stories, but I'll still share them anyway.
Erin's story- We were on our way home from Wal-Mart on Woodruff Road. There is a tax office right there, and every year they have a motorized mannequin dressed like the Statue of Liberty they put out on the curb. On the way there, I had seen her looking at it quizzically, but didn't give it much thought. Apparently it was more that her limited learning could handle. So, as we're coming back down Woodruff Road, she finally speaks up. Except she can't find the right words to express her thoughts. Here's what she said:
"Mommy, did you see that man?"
"Which one?" I wasn't aware her puzzled look had returned; I was trying to turn across traffic.
"That man, wearing the green dress, but not a man...kind of like a man...uh...'cept he lives on batteries."
I missed a perfectly good opportunity to turn across traffic, because I was laughing so hard.
Nate's story- I'm in CVS, getting some cold medicine for Thomas. I had taken Nate and Caleb with me. Nate is being a typical 5 year old, running around nearby and talking about nonsense to himself. I'm in line at the checkout. A couple of ladies are at the register in front of me and several people are behind me in line, including a older man in an expensive-looking suit. I'm trying to keep Caleb entertained when I hear (matter-of-factly like I was keeping a record) "Mommy, I just farted right here." I immediately start shaking my head no and try to tell him quietly that we don't say that in public. I glance up in embarassment to see the women in front of me stiffling giggles. One can no longer hold it and does let out a giggle, still trying to keep it to herself. I glance back over my shoulder. The stoic man in that taylored suit is no longer stoic; he, too, is trying to stiffle his laughter. Then, I find myself trying not to giggle. Nate was oblivious. I don't think he ever realized everyone was laughing at his comment.
These are not the last of funny things my kids will say. And Caleb has yet to start. I have always felt laughter is good, not only for the soul, but for the body too. As my bio says, laughter is good for the human. This is just one way my kids help keep me young.
Erin's story- We were on our way home from Wal-Mart on Woodruff Road. There is a tax office right there, and every year they have a motorized mannequin dressed like the Statue of Liberty they put out on the curb. On the way there, I had seen her looking at it quizzically, but didn't give it much thought. Apparently it was more that her limited learning could handle. So, as we're coming back down Woodruff Road, she finally speaks up. Except she can't find the right words to express her thoughts. Here's what she said:
"Mommy, did you see that man?"
"Which one?" I wasn't aware her puzzled look had returned; I was trying to turn across traffic.
"That man, wearing the green dress, but not a man...kind of like a man...uh...'cept he lives on batteries."
I missed a perfectly good opportunity to turn across traffic, because I was laughing so hard.
Nate's story- I'm in CVS, getting some cold medicine for Thomas. I had taken Nate and Caleb with me. Nate is being a typical 5 year old, running around nearby and talking about nonsense to himself. I'm in line at the checkout. A couple of ladies are at the register in front of me and several people are behind me in line, including a older man in an expensive-looking suit. I'm trying to keep Caleb entertained when I hear (matter-of-factly like I was keeping a record) "Mommy, I just farted right here." I immediately start shaking my head no and try to tell him quietly that we don't say that in public. I glance up in embarassment to see the women in front of me stiffling giggles. One can no longer hold it and does let out a giggle, still trying to keep it to herself. I glance back over my shoulder. The stoic man in that taylored suit is no longer stoic; he, too, is trying to stiffle his laughter. Then, I find myself trying not to giggle. Nate was oblivious. I don't think he ever realized everyone was laughing at his comment.
These are not the last of funny things my kids will say. And Caleb has yet to start. I have always felt laughter is good, not only for the soul, but for the body too. As my bio says, laughter is good for the human. This is just one way my kids help keep me young.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Happy Birthday, Baby Will!
It's been 11 years. He would have been 11 years old today. My kids affectionately refer to him as "Baby Will". Every year I seem to struggle a little less, but then that bothers me too. How can I grow so tolerant to the loss of my baby? I've heard people say to me they couldn't deal with the loss of a child, much less since he lived through Christmas. Christmas would become unbearable in the years to follow.
First, you don't have a choice really. You can choose to end your life, but you can't choose to not be able to deal with it. Life keeps moving around you; the sun keeps rising and setting. One day, it doesn't hurt as bad, and you can take a walk. Then, you can watch another child play. Eventually, you'll laugh and maybe feel guilty for laughing, but it felt good inside. Like it or not, life pushes on.
Second, I couldn't think of a better 3 months for him to have lived. I got him for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the Y2K New Year! He was my Christmas gift! Santa and Mrs. Claus came to see him in the NICU. He had a stocking so big, he could have fit into it. We sat in the NICU counting down to midnight on December 31, 1999. No parties, no confetti or alcohol (I wasn't even of legal drinking age, as a matter of fact). Just us, a few other parents, and the nurses. It was so very quiet in there, only the occasional alarm. We talked about his "ET toe", his big toe with his oxygen saturation monitor on it, making it glow red. As strange as it sounds, it was really peaceful.
I took my time going through the stages of grief, and to some extent I'll always be grieving. I read one time that a husband that looses a wife is a widow. A child that looses a parent is an orphan. But no word exists for a parent that loses a child. I don't remember where I read it, but it stuck with me. I still cry when I go to his grave.
I learned from all this though. Isn't that the point of life experiences? I learned I am stronger than I thought. I learned to appreciate little things and stop for ordinary moments. I learned my kids are irreplaceable, and I can learn from them too. I learned that two people who don't like each other (not Tommy and me) can work together in a crisis. But most of all, I learned I was far more capable of love than I ever thought I could be.
So, on this, the day of my oldest child's birth, I laugh and cry, remembering all the good and the bad. I secretly sing "Happy Birthday" to my eternal 3 month old angel. For 11 years ago today, was one of the greatest days of my life! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY WILL!
First, you don't have a choice really. You can choose to end your life, but you can't choose to not be able to deal with it. Life keeps moving around you; the sun keeps rising and setting. One day, it doesn't hurt as bad, and you can take a walk. Then, you can watch another child play. Eventually, you'll laugh and maybe feel guilty for laughing, but it felt good inside. Like it or not, life pushes on.
Second, I couldn't think of a better 3 months for him to have lived. I got him for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the Y2K New Year! He was my Christmas gift! Santa and Mrs. Claus came to see him in the NICU. He had a stocking so big, he could have fit into it. We sat in the NICU counting down to midnight on December 31, 1999. No parties, no confetti or alcohol (I wasn't even of legal drinking age, as a matter of fact). Just us, a few other parents, and the nurses. It was so very quiet in there, only the occasional alarm. We talked about his "ET toe", his big toe with his oxygen saturation monitor on it, making it glow red. As strange as it sounds, it was really peaceful.
I took my time going through the stages of grief, and to some extent I'll always be grieving. I read one time that a husband that looses a wife is a widow. A child that looses a parent is an orphan. But no word exists for a parent that loses a child. I don't remember where I read it, but it stuck with me. I still cry when I go to his grave.
I learned from all this though. Isn't that the point of life experiences? I learned I am stronger than I thought. I learned to appreciate little things and stop for ordinary moments. I learned my kids are irreplaceable, and I can learn from them too. I learned that two people who don't like each other (not Tommy and me) can work together in a crisis. But most of all, I learned I was far more capable of love than I ever thought I could be.
So, on this, the day of my oldest child's birth, I laugh and cry, remembering all the good and the bad. I secretly sing "Happy Birthday" to my eternal 3 month old angel. For 11 years ago today, was one of the greatest days of my life! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY WILL!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Similiar Uniqueness
It has been quite a week. I have spent a great deal of time on an essay paper for my English class, and it nearly kicked my butt! This meant, though, that I spent a good amount of time this week just observing and not participating. Sometimes people need something to come along and slow them down. I am one of those people. I have noticed my children this week. What I mean is instead of just going with the flow, I have sat back and just observed them. We'll start with the oldest.
Erin has matured quite a bit this past year. I am beginning to see a little lady emerge. She has this new sense of calmness about her sometimes. She wants to be the second "mommy" in our house. She coddles Caleb and corrects Nate. She has even started doing laundry, without being asked! I nearly fainted! I was so excited, I bought her a new Webkinz; we made a special trip just to buy one. The reality was, though, all she did was put the wet stuff in the dryer because I had been sick all day. I didn't care; for a 9 year old, I was beside myself with giddy. That cemented that deal for her. Erin has the laundry in the dryer now before I realize the washer has stopped. I think she's secretly hoping to get another Webkinz soon.
It's hard sometimes to watch her, though. She acts just like me. When she gets mad, she acts like me. When she's sad, she acts like me. I know how hard life can be when you are a sensitive soul. Plus, as if I'm not already ashamed of my foolish behavior, I have to explain to my child why MY behavior is unacceptable. I can't correct her behavior, because she so innocently points out, that's what I do when I'm mad. (If only they made blinders for children, I'd invest in three sets! They could be called "Not As I Do-ers".) It's like looking in a behavior mirror! I have learned to breathe before I react.
Then there's Nate. Nate is his own little personality. He wants so desperately to be Erin's best friend. And she wants so desperately for him to "go away." Nate's too big for Caleb's toys. He's too little to play with Erin's, not to mention her's are all girl toys. My heart aches for him; the middle is such a hard place to be. I've been the middle child! Does that stop Nate? No. He likes Barbies. If you ask him, his favorite color is red. But don't stop there. Ask him what other color he like. His answer--pink. This doesn't particularly make Daddy happy. Oh, and when I paint my and Erin's nails, Nate waits patiently in line, watching very intently. He doesn't seem to understand why I won't paint his nails. I'd rather not give Daddy a stroke. If it were up to me alone, I'd paint his nails with some clear polish. After all, haven't you heard of a metrosexual?!
Well, for all the testosterone Nate is short, Caleb makes up for it. He is a man's man. He seems to teem with maleness. At the tender age of two, Caleb has mastered the art of play-fighting. He prefers to watch football. And action movies. He likes anything with wheels and nothing with long, plastic legs. (Buzz Lightyear has short stumpy legs, excluding him from this category.) When he falls down, Caleb stands back up, says "Ow," brushes off, and goes about his way. Sometimes he skips the brushing off step. (Nate will scream for 30 minutes.) Best of all, though, Caleb has figured out in his short two years that men show affection with horseplay. I feel for those girls who are the objects of his first crushes; I hope they are the athletic type!
But for all their differences, they all share one thing. My kids are sweet. They will share their things and are concerned for others. They love passionately and feel deeply. They will protect and defend each other to the end, but that's part of being siblings, I'm told. To me, though, my kids are pretty special!
I look forward to seeing who they become. I somehow feel I have really only begun to know who they are.
Erin has matured quite a bit this past year. I am beginning to see a little lady emerge. She has this new sense of calmness about her sometimes. She wants to be the second "mommy" in our house. She coddles Caleb and corrects Nate. She has even started doing laundry, without being asked! I nearly fainted! I was so excited, I bought her a new Webkinz; we made a special trip just to buy one. The reality was, though, all she did was put the wet stuff in the dryer because I had been sick all day. I didn't care; for a 9 year old, I was beside myself with giddy. That cemented that deal for her. Erin has the laundry in the dryer now before I realize the washer has stopped. I think she's secretly hoping to get another Webkinz soon.
It's hard sometimes to watch her, though. She acts just like me. When she gets mad, she acts like me. When she's sad, she acts like me. I know how hard life can be when you are a sensitive soul. Plus, as if I'm not already ashamed of my foolish behavior, I have to explain to my child why MY behavior is unacceptable. I can't correct her behavior, because she so innocently points out, that's what I do when I'm mad. (If only they made blinders for children, I'd invest in three sets! They could be called "Not As I Do-ers".) It's like looking in a behavior mirror! I have learned to breathe before I react.
Then there's Nate. Nate is his own little personality. He wants so desperately to be Erin's best friend. And she wants so desperately for him to "go away." Nate's too big for Caleb's toys. He's too little to play with Erin's, not to mention her's are all girl toys. My heart aches for him; the middle is such a hard place to be. I've been the middle child! Does that stop Nate? No. He likes Barbies. If you ask him, his favorite color is red. But don't stop there. Ask him what other color he like. His answer--pink. This doesn't particularly make Daddy happy. Oh, and when I paint my and Erin's nails, Nate waits patiently in line, watching very intently. He doesn't seem to understand why I won't paint his nails. I'd rather not give Daddy a stroke. If it were up to me alone, I'd paint his nails with some clear polish. After all, haven't you heard of a metrosexual?!
Well, for all the testosterone Nate is short, Caleb makes up for it. He is a man's man. He seems to teem with maleness. At the tender age of two, Caleb has mastered the art of play-fighting. He prefers to watch football. And action movies. He likes anything with wheels and nothing with long, plastic legs. (Buzz Lightyear has short stumpy legs, excluding him from this category.) When he falls down, Caleb stands back up, says "Ow," brushes off, and goes about his way. Sometimes he skips the brushing off step. (Nate will scream for 30 minutes.) Best of all, though, Caleb has figured out in his short two years that men show affection with horseplay. I feel for those girls who are the objects of his first crushes; I hope they are the athletic type!
But for all their differences, they all share one thing. My kids are sweet. They will share their things and are concerned for others. They love passionately and feel deeply. They will protect and defend each other to the end, but that's part of being siblings, I'm told. To me, though, my kids are pretty special!
I look forward to seeing who they become. I somehow feel I have really only begun to know who they are.
Friday, November 12, 2010
My Love Story
Tomorrow is our 11th wedding anniversary. Wow! That's a long time, especially considering that's over a third of my life spent with the same person. It hasn't always been roses, either. We've have our share of tragedies, hardships, and fights. There have been times we weren't sure we'd make it as a couple. But, there have been plenty of great times, too. For the biggest part, we're an awesome team.
Thomas is an incredible husband! He loves me so much. He works very hard to provide for our family. He can see my great qualities, even when I can't. He is funny and loves to goof around. He is a big kid at heart and loves to cut up with the kids. And even though he won't admit it, he's a big softie! (Sorry, Babe, but you are!)
From the beginning of our relationship in high school, we have always said we wanted to grow old together, hand in hand in the rockers on our front porch. To be honest, I'd probably follow him off a bridge or into a burning house. He is my best friend! Well, he's more than just my best friend; he's my better half, my lover, my calm in the storm, my rock, my confidant, my soul mate, and all those other cliches. But to me, they aren't cliche; they are very real!
Thomas spilt a little of his aftershave in the sink the other day. It drove me nuts all day! In a good way! I just wanted him to come home from work all day long. I love the way he smells. I love the way his arms feel wrapped around me. I feel safe, protected, and secure.
So, I know this is all so sappy. But it's all true. I believe I have the best husband on Earth! And no one is going to convience me otherwise. Well, except Thomas, when I'm mad at him. But I get over it eventually, and I'm back to loving him to pieces. (Hahahaha.)
So one day early, I'll begin celebrating the best thing that has ever happed to me. Happy anniversary, Baby! I LOVE YOU MORE!! How'd I get so lucky?
Thomas is an incredible husband! He loves me so much. He works very hard to provide for our family. He can see my great qualities, even when I can't. He is funny and loves to goof around. He is a big kid at heart and loves to cut up with the kids. And even though he won't admit it, he's a big softie! (Sorry, Babe, but you are!)
From the beginning of our relationship in high school, we have always said we wanted to grow old together, hand in hand in the rockers on our front porch. To be honest, I'd probably follow him off a bridge or into a burning house. He is my best friend! Well, he's more than just my best friend; he's my better half, my lover, my calm in the storm, my rock, my confidant, my soul mate, and all those other cliches. But to me, they aren't cliche; they are very real!
Thomas spilt a little of his aftershave in the sink the other day. It drove me nuts all day! In a good way! I just wanted him to come home from work all day long. I love the way he smells. I love the way his arms feel wrapped around me. I feel safe, protected, and secure.
So, I know this is all so sappy. But it's all true. I believe I have the best husband on Earth! And no one is going to convience me otherwise. Well, except Thomas, when I'm mad at him. But I get over it eventually, and I'm back to loving him to pieces. (Hahahaha.)
So one day early, I'll begin celebrating the best thing that has ever happed to me. Happy anniversary, Baby! I LOVE YOU MORE!! How'd I get so lucky?
Monday, November 8, 2010
How time flies, whether you're having fun or not!
My goodness! It's almost Thanksgiving. I'm ready, too. For all the hustle and bustle, and people on top of more people in Wal-mart, I LOVE the holidays! Within a month's time, you are reminded of all you should be thankful for and how blessed you really are. Then, it's the biggest and oldest birthday part of the year! Think about it a moment...who else in history has had more birthdays celebrated than Baby Jesus? I want to make shirts that say, "Happy birthday, Jesus! 2039 and holding!" (If you do the math, 33 years old when He was crusified and rose again and 2010 years since then makes 2043.) I'm afraid I might offend some people, though.
I don't get it really. I'm told He is my closest friend, my best ally. But I'm also supposed to treat Him as the best Sunday china. I wouldn't treat my best friend as "Sunday china". I prefer the first name basis! I want to talk to Him and with Him like I do anyone else. Isn't that what a "personal relationship" means? I think people get stuck thinking of Christ as a 2043 year old Savior. I know He died, but He came back from the dead, remember? And He knows our trials and our temptations. All that makes me think, in some celestial way, He has aged with us. I think He would wear jeans and t-shirts with the rest of us. He would have a nice haircut that was stylish and fit in with everyone, not just one or two cliques. In 2 BC, Jesus was one of the people. I think He's the same today, one of the people.
So, not to offend anyone, but I'm sticking to my view of the holidays. (God's greatest gift to us, besides the One on the cross, was free-will, which means, you don't have to agree with me.) I'm looking forward to the upcoming festivities. I'm looking forward to another holiday season to make great memories with my children.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JESUS!!!!! 2039 and holding! Man, you look good for your age!
I don't get it really. I'm told He is my closest friend, my best ally. But I'm also supposed to treat Him as the best Sunday china. I wouldn't treat my best friend as "Sunday china". I prefer the first name basis! I want to talk to Him and with Him like I do anyone else. Isn't that what a "personal relationship" means? I think people get stuck thinking of Christ as a 2043 year old Savior. I know He died, but He came back from the dead, remember? And He knows our trials and our temptations. All that makes me think, in some celestial way, He has aged with us. I think He would wear jeans and t-shirts with the rest of us. He would have a nice haircut that was stylish and fit in with everyone, not just one or two cliques. In 2 BC, Jesus was one of the people. I think He's the same today, one of the people.
So, not to offend anyone, but I'm sticking to my view of the holidays. (God's greatest gift to us, besides the One on the cross, was free-will, which means, you don't have to agree with me.) I'm looking forward to the upcoming festivities. I'm looking forward to another holiday season to make great memories with my children.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JESUS!!!!! 2039 and holding! Man, you look good for your age!
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
My brain is stuck on repeat.
So, I have been professionally diagnosed with OCD. Most people know what this is. For those who don't, it's obssesive-compulsive disorder. Most people know the side where people have to wash their hands until they are raw or do things a certain number of times. Those are compulsions. I have mostly obsessions. My few compulsions are minor: I can't eat food that touches. I also eat it one thing at a time, starting with my least favorite food. (And if it is like a casserole or something, I eat it one thing at a time. Take, for example, Hamburger Helper. I eat all the pasta first, then eat the meat.)
It also shows up in my typing, if you could actually watch me type. I have an online dictionary and thesaurus open on a different tab before I start typing anything. Then I re-read EVERYTHING! I do it multiple times, too. I'm looking for misspelled word, grammatical errors, phrases I can improve, and other crazy stuff. I even re-read it after I post it. And, if I find an error then, I have to edit it to correct it. I also have a problem with too many details. (If you've gotten to this point of this post, I can hear your "DUH!") I want to make sure what I mean is perfectly clear. You've heard of "not seeing the forest for the trees"? I can see the splinters that make up those trees!
Anyway, most of my OCD is obsessive based. I have what has been called circular thoughts. I start at A, which leads to B, which leads to C, which leads to D, which comes right back to A. Each cirlce isn't always the same, but it's always the same idea. I'll spare you the example. I am also a perfectionist to a severe degree. I plan stuff out. And I plan it to the tinest detail. Or either, it is beyond my control, so I don't plan anything. My therapist says I see in "black and white." I have trouble doing things half-way. Okay, that's an understatement. I can't do things halfway.
My brain gets stuck on topics sometimes. It's like a broken record, constantly skipping to the same line of the song. When I find something new I like, I LOVE it. I can't get enough! I spend hours researching and learning about it. My current "obsession" is a band called My Chemical Romance. I have always liked some of their songs, but right now, I'm addicted. I even know they are in Europe on tour right now until early November, when they come home for the release of their new album. I'm assuming they will break for the holidays, too, since Gee and Frank have new babies. Actually, Frank has two, twin girls. SEE?
My brain's not always bad, though. I have a natural gift of understanding numbers. I just get them, like a second language. I learn things fairly easy, as well, if I'm interested in the subject matter. I know all kinds of useless information--just ask my husband! I can read instructions and do whatever I just read. I am called articulate and detail-oriented because of this disorder. I consider both of those to be compliments.
I'm not really sure how this came to be my post tonight. (Well, yeah I do--ODC!) It's just weird sometimes when people don't get it. They can't see my OCD. My husband is great with me and my OCD; he seems to understand. He has watched me fall apart. Even better, he has put me back together with little judgement! Sometimes I just want to put a shirt on that reads "I have OCD. Please ignore my quirks." I hope no one takes this post the wrong way. I just needed to say this to others in a nonthreatening way.
I suppose the moral of tonight's post is the old adage "never judge a book by its cover." Or in my case, a person by their outward appearances. People always say you never know what tragedy someone is dealing with. Sometimes, you never know what everyday situation that person is living with!
It also shows up in my typing, if you could actually watch me type. I have an online dictionary and thesaurus open on a different tab before I start typing anything. Then I re-read EVERYTHING! I do it multiple times, too. I'm looking for misspelled word, grammatical errors, phrases I can improve, and other crazy stuff. I even re-read it after I post it. And, if I find an error then, I have to edit it to correct it. I also have a problem with too many details. (If you've gotten to this point of this post, I can hear your "DUH!") I want to make sure what I mean is perfectly clear. You've heard of "not seeing the forest for the trees"? I can see the splinters that make up those trees!
Anyway, most of my OCD is obsessive based. I have what has been called circular thoughts. I start at A, which leads to B, which leads to C, which leads to D, which comes right back to A. Each cirlce isn't always the same, but it's always the same idea. I'll spare you the example. I am also a perfectionist to a severe degree. I plan stuff out. And I plan it to the tinest detail. Or either, it is beyond my control, so I don't plan anything. My therapist says I see in "black and white." I have trouble doing things half-way. Okay, that's an understatement. I can't do things halfway.
My brain gets stuck on topics sometimes. It's like a broken record, constantly skipping to the same line of the song. When I find something new I like, I LOVE it. I can't get enough! I spend hours researching and learning about it. My current "obsession" is a band called My Chemical Romance. I have always liked some of their songs, but right now, I'm addicted. I even know they are in Europe on tour right now until early November, when they come home for the release of their new album. I'm assuming they will break for the holidays, too, since Gee and Frank have new babies. Actually, Frank has two, twin girls. SEE?
My brain's not always bad, though. I have a natural gift of understanding numbers. I just get them, like a second language. I learn things fairly easy, as well, if I'm interested in the subject matter. I know all kinds of useless information--just ask my husband! I can read instructions and do whatever I just read. I am called articulate and detail-oriented because of this disorder. I consider both of those to be compliments.
I'm not really sure how this came to be my post tonight. (Well, yeah I do--ODC!) It's just weird sometimes when people don't get it. They can't see my OCD. My husband is great with me and my OCD; he seems to understand. He has watched me fall apart. Even better, he has put me back together with little judgement! Sometimes I just want to put a shirt on that reads "I have OCD. Please ignore my quirks." I hope no one takes this post the wrong way. I just needed to say this to others in a nonthreatening way.
I suppose the moral of tonight's post is the old adage "never judge a book by its cover." Or in my case, a person by their outward appearances. People always say you never know what tragedy someone is dealing with. Sometimes, you never know what everyday situation that person is living with!
Saturday, October 23, 2010
The Struggles of a "Growing Mom"
Today is almost over. It was a good day. Today was Caleb's second birthday. It just seems like yesterday the nurses handed me each one of my children. Will had been in the neonatal ICU for several hours before I got to see him the first time. All I could see, though, was perfection. Erin was so adorably fat, like a little marshmellow baby. Nate was 5 weeks early, scaring us a little. He needed billi lights, help with his temperature a couple of time, and he grunted for the first week. You'd never know it now. And Caleb was so small to have such cheeks, with the cutest recessed chin. All of my babies were cesarean babies, so they all had perfect rounded heads. And all of them seemed so small. I will never forget how warm that newborn bundle is the first time you hold it.
Now, they hardly resemble my babies anymore. Even Caleb talks and plays without me. He doesn't need Mommy as much. None of them want to be cuddled. But I'm still needed, when sickness comes, or boo-boo's hurt, or tummy's need filling, I'm still needed. I hope to always be needed.
I think of my parents. I still need to talk to my Daddy sometimes. Just to reassure me I'm still his "little girl." And I still call Mom when I need womanly advice. They don't always say what I want them to say, but they are still my parents. I have always been "Daddy's little girl," and I suppose I always will be!
It a strange thing, to sit in the quiet of night and think about your kids. I want them to grow up to be good people. But at the same time, I want them to stop growing! I want to always be their Mommy. Erin will say, "Mmoooommmm!" and I'll say right back, "Eeeerrrrr!" She doesn't like being called "Er". I don't like being called "Mom". She'll get it and try again, "Momma..." Sigh, another near miss of growing up! Someday, she'll call me "Mom" no matter how I feel about it. But for the moment, she's still my little girl.
Now, Caleb's birthday is officially over. Another year come and gone. At least I didn't miss it!
Good night, my babies! I love you! Sleep tight! (And stop growing so fast!)
Now, they hardly resemble my babies anymore. Even Caleb talks and plays without me. He doesn't need Mommy as much. None of them want to be cuddled. But I'm still needed, when sickness comes, or boo-boo's hurt, or tummy's need filling, I'm still needed. I hope to always be needed.
I think of my parents. I still need to talk to my Daddy sometimes. Just to reassure me I'm still his "little girl." And I still call Mom when I need womanly advice. They don't always say what I want them to say, but they are still my parents. I have always been "Daddy's little girl," and I suppose I always will be!
It a strange thing, to sit in the quiet of night and think about your kids. I want them to grow up to be good people. But at the same time, I want them to stop growing! I want to always be their Mommy. Erin will say, "Mmoooommmm!" and I'll say right back, "Eeeerrrrr!" She doesn't like being called "Er". I don't like being called "Mom". She'll get it and try again, "Momma..." Sigh, another near miss of growing up! Someday, she'll call me "Mom" no matter how I feel about it. But for the moment, she's still my little girl.
Now, Caleb's birthday is officially over. Another year come and gone. At least I didn't miss it!
Good night, my babies! I love you! Sleep tight! (And stop growing so fast!)
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Just an introduction...
This is my first blog post ever. Wish me luck, please...
I suppose I should start with a little bit about me. I'm not very organized. I've got tons of random thoughts just running laps in my head. I say weird stuff out of the blue. I'm a tomboy at heart, with a flair for the dramatic. And I'm proud to admit, I am mostly southern with a little bit of redneck.
I married my high school sweetheart, Thomas. We have been together for 13 years. Next month will be our 11th wedding anniversary. We are a bit "ying and yang", if you can pardon the expression. He keeps me grounded; I help him crawl out of the box occasionally. But we have enough in common that we fit together well.
I am the proud mother of four children. Will should have been our oldest at age 10 (he would have been 11 next month); he had multiple birth defects and died at three months old. Our oldest living is Erin, age 9; she is our tween that thinks she knows it all. (Erin is also high functioning autistic.) Next in line is Nate, age 5; he's our hand-full of a kindergartener. And finally comes Caleb, age 2; Caleb is our reserved child, the only quiet one in the bunch.
So what can you expect from this blog? Well, pretty much anything. I know there will be many topics in the future as my family shifts. Some will be funny, some happy, some sad. Plus, I have some odd likes and dislikes, many opinions on everything, and lots of questions that leave you wondering "who ever thinks of this stuff?". I'll discuss relationships of all sorts, the trials of family life, music, school life, TV, attitudes... you get the picture!
Well, there it is. How'd I do? Hopefully, you'll tag along for my ride.
I suppose I should start with a little bit about me. I'm not very organized. I've got tons of random thoughts just running laps in my head. I say weird stuff out of the blue. I'm a tomboy at heart, with a flair for the dramatic. And I'm proud to admit, I am mostly southern with a little bit of redneck.
I married my high school sweetheart, Thomas. We have been together for 13 years. Next month will be our 11th wedding anniversary. We are a bit "ying and yang", if you can pardon the expression. He keeps me grounded; I help him crawl out of the box occasionally. But we have enough in common that we fit together well.
I am the proud mother of four children. Will should have been our oldest at age 10 (he would have been 11 next month); he had multiple birth defects and died at three months old. Our oldest living is Erin, age 9; she is our tween that thinks she knows it all. (Erin is also high functioning autistic.) Next in line is Nate, age 5; he's our hand-full of a kindergartener. And finally comes Caleb, age 2; Caleb is our reserved child, the only quiet one in the bunch.
So what can you expect from this blog? Well, pretty much anything. I know there will be many topics in the future as my family shifts. Some will be funny, some happy, some sad. Plus, I have some odd likes and dislikes, many opinions on everything, and lots of questions that leave you wondering "who ever thinks of this stuff?". I'll discuss relationships of all sorts, the trials of family life, music, school life, TV, attitudes... you get the picture!
Well, there it is. How'd I do? Hopefully, you'll tag along for my ride.
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