People tend to mistake my not going to church as me not having faith. I would dare to say that because of how I see God, my faith may be stronger than those who attend a service in a building once a week. Where do you see God?
|
I don't need to go to church to see God. I actually see God more than some people who only search for Him in a building. I see God each day in the beauty of the sun. I see God in the power of a storm. I see God in the glint of the snow. I see God in the darkness of night. I hear God in the song of a bird. I hear God in the voice of my children. I hear God in the snores from Girl. I feel God in the hugs from my family and friends. I feel God in the cool breeze. I feel God in the soaking rain. People tend to mistake my not going to church as me not having faith. I would dare to say that because of how I see God, my faith may be stronger than those who attend a service in a building once a week. Where do you see God?
0 Comments
Today, I threw away 4 drafts of a sign to put up in my mother’s room where she is getting rehab for a broken hip. No, I didn’t mess up. I threw these away because I didn’t want to hear complaining about my handwriting. For the most part, I have pretty decent handwriting. Can it be messy? Sure. But, I was a teacher, so I can also write very neatly. However, it’s never good enough. I was writing the word “daily” . My “a” was not perfect. To anyone else, they wouldn’t have thought twice about it. They would have thought it was a fine “a”. But I could hear all of the criticism in my head regarding that “a”. Why is there a loop in it? I couldn’t tell what that letter was supposed to be. Make that “a” neater. I am in the mid 40’s. Who gives a shit how I write? Every now and then I give my son and husband a tough time about their handwriting, but it’s mostly meant in jest, which they know. Everyone knows people where you can’t read their writing. You mostly use deductive reasoning and context clues to figure out what it says. And you move on. That’s not how my life has ever been with my mother.
I don’t want that for my children. When I was little, my hair had to always be perfect. I have very wavy hair. For years, I was made to brush it straight. Anyone who has wavy/curly hair, knows when they brush their hair out, it ends up looking like a lion’s mane. As of a week ago, I was told to “do something with my hair”. My person always makes a point to tell me how great my hair looks on especially curly days because she knows how I grew up. When Sunshine was little, my mom would ask her, “Didn’t your mother brush your hair?”. For years and years, I would panic when we’d go see my parents and make sure both of my kids had perfect hair and mine was always pulled back so you couldn’t tell what a curly mess it was. A little over a year and a half ago, Sunshine got highlights. She mentioned how Nana would make some sort of comment about them. That’s when my IDGAF attitude about my hair and my kids’ hair began. I no longer felt like I needed to make sure everyone was perfect so that comments wouldn’t be made. Know what? Comments were still made, but it started to become a running joke. Even though my attitude changed, some days, I don't want to deal with comments so I give in and pull my hair back before visiting. The other day, Sunshine asked me if I liked her outfit. I didn’t. I mentioned I wasn’t a fan of the shirt. I also told her she looked super cute. She said, “But you just said you don’t like my shirt,” I informed her that one has nothing to do with the other. Just because I don’t like something doesn’t mean it doesn’t look good or I’m going to criticize it. It’s so important that both my kids know that I love them unconditionally. I don’t have to like how they wear their hair. I don’t have to like their clothing. I don’t have to like their handwriting. Their towels don’t have to be dry at all times (if you know, you know). I have tried to instill this in them. If they like it, that’s what matters. If it’s inappropriate to wear, I will 100% make them change. If it’s completely illegible, I will make them rewrite it if it’s for class. I want them to understand this is not an attack on their person. None of that stuff matters in the big picture. What matters is the kind of people they are. Their hair, handwriting, weight, clothing, towel status, etc, makes zero difference who they truly are inside. Of course all of those things matter in certain situations, but to constantly criticize people for things doesn’t make them a better person. It makes them feel little. It makes them want to hide. It makes them feel like they aren’t good enough. I never, ever want my kids to feel like they aren’t good enough because they are more than good enough. They are exceptional. Ten years ago, I wrote this post. So far this January, the kids have had 10 days of school and two of those days have been 2 hour delays. And we still have a week of January to go.
Last week, on our second snow day, I texted a friend of mine. I asked her if she remembered “No School January” from all those years ago. I remember how difficult we thought those days were, trying to keep the kids entertained and doing “Blizzard Bags” from the school. Finding out there was a snow day the next day, Sunshine immediately asked to sleep over someone’s house. So that’s one kid down. Husband worked from home that day, so Monster hung out in his room sleeping, playing video games, and watching TV. I “got” to clean the house (lucky me!). There were no board games. There was no baking. There wasn’t even any online learning. The truth is, I’d give anything to go back to those old days. The days where my kids wanted to do things with me. The days where they weren’t embarrassed to do things with their mom. Where playing board games was fun and cool and Mommy’s cookies were the best treats ever. I miss their friendship with each other. I do love having my kids home still, but it’s different. I know I need to embrace the “new norm” and make the best of it, but it’s tough when the new norm is everyone doing their own thing. Everything is also tough because this is Monster’s last year at home. I know he’ll be here over breaks and summer, but it won’t be the same. My heart hurts trying to squeeze every last precious moment of time with him out. I want to make it all memorable and wonderful, but teenagers have different ideas. So, for today’s 2 hour delay, I am letting them sleep. When they get up, it will be a day like any other. They won’t know how much my heart hurts letting them go. They won’t know how much I long to wake them up just to snuggle on the couch for a little bit before sending them off. And that’s OK. They don’t need to know. They just need to grow into who they are going to be. I have never been much for sitting on the sidelines, but I’m trying to get through the best I can so they can become the best they can, even if that means less board games and more alone time. There’s a TikTok that’s going around that says something like, “Will my kids look back and think that mom did her best to make the holidays magical or will they only remember her being stressed out and yelling.” I know the answer. And it breaks my heart. I have tried my hardest to make Christmas magical for my kids. I’ve always failed. Neither child has ever seen Christmas as a magical time. In fact, one is constantly disappointed with the holiday. Disappointed in what we haven’t done. Disappointed in gifts not received. Disappointed that we travel. Disappointed when we aren’t going to travel. Disappointed that we don’t have huge family gatherings. Disappointed that we are going to be forced to see family for the first time ever. Disappointed that everything on the Christmas list was received but didn’t get the thing that wasn’t on the list but everyone else got. I’m set up to fail the moment I even start to try.
Some people will say I have to do more. Some people will say I have to do less. I speak from experience when I say it doesn’t matter what I do, I can’t win. It’s always been hard trying to make Christmas magical when we’re not home. We couldn’t decorate a rental house, nor did we want to spend the money to buy decorations that we’d basically just throw away. We couldn’t bake cookies because most of the houses didn’t come with baking sheets or even mixing bowls. We would try to cram these “traditions” in the crazy busy weeks leading up to us leaving. Don’t get me wrong. We always made the best of everything. When Santa left stockings, the kids were thrilled. When we would swim every Christmas day, the kids loved it. Nightly beach walks became “tradition” Time marches on though and things change. The Christmas day swimming isn’t quite as fun when it’s just with your sibling and dad. The walks on the beach need to be photographed and documented for social media. Just stockings didn’t really cut it when everyone they know posts pictures of all their gifts. This year, already, I’ve been told that we have no Christmas traditions. I have failed Christmas before it’s even started. And this was the last Christmas before the boy goes to college. So, I have failed to make Christmas magical for my family. And it breaks my heart. This year has aged and broken me in ways that will never be repaired. There’s not one thing that I can pinpoint, but I do know when it snowballed. Maybe if I were different and didn’t feel guilty asking for help. Maybe if my family situation were different and I had any kind of support. Maybe if I would have been more assertive in years past. Maybe if I didn’t have anxiety. Maybe….things wouldn’t have gotten to this point. But there’s no point in maybe’s. Yes, the maybe’s keep me up at night and make me want to curl into a ball and sleep all day, but they don’t do any good. Things are what they are and we make choices on how to best deal with the now. The problem lies with how shattered I’ve been left this year that I can’t even make the choices I need to make. No matter what I choose, it's not enough. I can’t keep up with the pace things are moving. Heck, I wouldn’t be able to keep up even if things were moving at a snail's pace. It’s as if I’m trying to run while under water. Sadly, I don’t see things changing for the better any time soon. I will just keep trying to change my mindset or at least try to keep up. So, I apologize if I haven’t lived up to your expectations. I can’t keep up with my own expectations let alone everyone else’s.
It was Watch Week at dance for Sunshine. That’s where parents (or anyone) can go and watch their dancer. Sunshine requested we don’t go. This has been the trend. The entire tennis season, she requested no one go watch her. This past softball season, she requested no one come watch her. Recital time last year, she asked people not to come. The last year she played soccer, she would only let certain people come watch.
When Sunshine was little, all she wanted in life was for people to watch her. One funny story that Husband and I like to tell is how when she was playing t-ball, she would be out in the field and anyone who has ever had kids in t-ball knows absolutely nothing happens in the field in t-ball. She would constantly be looking over at us to see if we were watching. If we weren’t watching, she would yell at us to watch. We’d then yell back that nothing was happening! Husband and I have always been there, at everything, cheering her on. I am so happy that she has taken for granted that we will always be there, but I’m also sad because there was always something else missing-family. When we would be on a team with friends, or even played against friends, their parents would cheer her on, but it wasn’t the same. When she was 5, she was on the same t-ball team as some friends. She noticed that their Nana came to every game. She asked why no one ever came to watch her. I tried to explain that Mommy and Daddy and Monster were all there for her and that [L] and [B]’s Nana was cheering her on, too. But it wasn’t the same. Of course it wasn’t, and I hated watching her scan the crowd to see huge cheering sections for other people and just her mom and dad for her. For a few years, Grandpa came to live in Ohio for the summers. He went to every softball game that he could. She was always so happy. “Did Grandpa see me catch the ball? What did he think?” But, it was hard for him to get to the fields because he was in a wheelchair, so he couldn’t always come. She understood that. But he tried to move heaven and earth just so he could see her do what she loved. And she loved that he came to her dance recitals and all the games he could. Then 2020 happened and no one could go to anything. Then, Grandpa could no longer make trips due to his health. That’s when she started to move away from people watching her do anything. Something happened in that time span where she started to feel like the only reason anyone would come is to see how great she is at anything and she started to fear letting people down. She doesn’t want anyone to see her be anything less than perfect. She hasn’t had a life where people (other than us) just come to cheer her on. My heart broke for that little girl who asked why other people had people watch them and it hurts for the big girl who feels like she needs to be perfect for people to watch her. I don’t know what else to do for her other than show up. I keep showing, even when she texts me to tell me she’s playing exhibition singles in a varsity match but I don’t have to come. But I also give her her space when she doesn’t want anyone to come to Watch Week. I’m hoping that she’ll get back to that little girl who wants us to “watch me!”. My daughter recently joined Key Club. Key Club is an organization dedicated to service in the community. She is going to her first event today, which is what got me thinking. They emailed to say that the time has changed, which means she gets less hours than originally planned. As a busy person, this got me on a rant about how they should still honor the amount of hours they were going to get because it’s not my kid’s fault that she’s going to be 30 minutes shy of her required hours now. This then got me thinking of my service hours in high school.
I went to a Catholic high school where service hours were required for graduation. If an event was canceled or ran short, we still got full credit. Even the nuns understood that it’s tough to schedule service projects. There was one service project I signed up for every year though and never tried to cheat my hours and would even “work” overtime–the phone-a-thon. This was where we would call parents and alumni of Regina. We had a set conversation that we were always supposed to have. Catholics are big on confessing your sins, so here it goes…there are a few that go with the event. Even back in the 90s, I hated conflict. I would avoid it at all costs. So, when someone said they didn’t want to donate money, I would tell them thank you and hang up. This was not in the script. The script had me asking three more times after the first no. Sorry, but this was never going to happen for me. I’m not begging people to do what they clearly don’t want to do. That’s confession number 1. Confession number 2 is the real reason why I always picked this event and would even “work” late. Way back before cell phones, there was this thing called long distance. It was crazy expensive to call people who lived far away (or even just an hour away depending on the area code). Only time we could call would be after 9:00 or Sundays. That’s when the rates were the lowest. You see, one of my good friends lived across the country. That meant I rarely got to speak to him. Except for the phone-a-thon. There were tons of long distance calls being made to Regina alumni and family, so I just added one more. I would call my friend in Idaho every time. And I wouldn’t even worry with how long we talked. How did no one notice I was making personal calls (to be fair, everyone made personal calls, mine just happened to be long distance)? Well, we all got our own private offices to make the calls. No one had any clue what we were doing in our offices. If I started to run out of time for my list, I would write, “no answer” on my sheet next to names I didn’t get to so they would be added to the next group of people to make calls list. Here’s the thing. I regret none of it. With confession, you’re supposed to repent for your sins, but I’m good. There are not many things quite as annoying as telemarketers, so I was really just saving people from being annoyed. And I got to chat with one of my oldest friends. So, if there’s a phone-a-thon for Key Club, you can bet that I’m having my kid sign up. Nothing is long distance now and the phone is pretty much glued to her, but it’s all about nostalgia! I remember the first day of school for each of my children. Neither cried. Neither were sad I was leaving. They went in and immediately found something to do. I was the one crying. I remember the fear picking them up from their first day. Did they have a good day? Did they make friends? Did they miss me? They were always good.
The first day of school is still extremely hard for me. I have to stay busy to keep my mind off of all my worries. In 15 years of school for the boy, he’s always had a good first day. Same for the 12 years with the girl (I’m counting preschool). In those years, we’ve had many bad days. Way too many bad days for the boy in elementary school, but he never cried when he left for school. Even with all the bad days, I only recall there being a handful where he’d cry the night before that he didn’t want to go the next day. Yet, every day, he got up and went. Same for the girl. She sheds more tears over grades than what’s happening at school. I think that they each have only asked to not go to school once in their whole school careers due to worries. Then there’s me. I still cry. When the kids were in elementary school and I would walk them to school, there would be days I would cry on my walk home. When I started to drive them, at least once a week, I would cry when they got out of the car. Now, I cry almost daily when they pull out of the driveway. I cry for so many reasons. I cry because I know they’re worried about tests. I cry because I miss the time that I have left. I cry because I’m so proud of how far they’ve come. I cry because of how much they have left to go. I cry because there are so many things out of my control. Most of the time, I don’t know why I’m crying. When they aren’t with me, there’s a part of me that’s missing. No matter what else is going on, I love having my family with me, knowing they are safe. I used to wonder why my parents stood by the door as I was leaving to wave goodbye to me. Now, I get it. They just wanted that extra few seconds to still feel connected. So, if you see me standing on my porch crying, know that I’m just trying to hold on to the time that I have left. I’ll take all the extra seconds with them that I can get.
My Sweet Monster,
I’ve been trying to write this letter for a while, but I seem to be lacking the words. I guess I’ll start with Happy Birthday! It does not feel like 17 years have passed since you were born. You are still my sweet baby. I’m so very proud of you and all you have accomplished. I was so worried that you wouldn’t get involved in high school and would be lonely, but you are far from that. Next year, you will have leadership positions in three clubs as well as being involved in at least 3 more. I know you’re a bit nervous about how some of the classes next year are shaking out, but it’s only 36 weeks. Then, you will be off to college. This past year has been full of accomplishments. I could not be prouder of you. I know that the accomplishment you are most proud of is your third degree black belt. When you started this karate journey 9 years ago, I was so nervous. Would you listen? Would you like it? Would you remember everything? It turns out this was your thing and it’s become one of your passions. I love that you have had the opportunity to work in a job that you are passionate about. Most people don’t get that as their first job. This next year is going to be a rough one for me. I still see you as my little baby who needs his mommy. Yet you are on the cusp of adulthood and ready to be completely independent. I hope I have taught you the skills you need to be out on your own. This summer is going to be a lot of life skill training just to make sure! I’m sad that I will not get to celebrate your birthday with you and your friends, but I’m so happy for you that you get this time to relax and have fun! Have the best time tonight! Happy Birthday, Little Man. I love you more than you will ever know. Love, Mommy |
Categories
All
Archives
March 2023
|