“Giving birth is little more than a set of muscular contractions granting passage of a child. Then the mother is born.”

― Erma Bombeck

Happy Mother’s Day! Do we actually believe that we get a day, all to ourselves, with nothing to do but bask in the sun, with our perfectly manicured nails, toned skin, and stretch-mark free tummies? WE ARE LYING TO OURSELVES! We get a nano-second in the lives of these little people that rely so much on us for everything. We are always on whine duty…Don’t get me wrong…I wouldn’t have it any other way! My life IS my life with the kids. They are the first things I think about every morning and the last people I text at night (because they don’t answer their phones for their own mother). I remember when Hannah was little I said that I would tell her ‘I love you’ every night, for the rest of her life. I would snuggle her into bed (my bed for 9 years), and kiss her on the same spot on her tiny little head. I continued this tradition with Ashley and Parker. Moms do this! Dad do this, too, but today is Mother’s Day and can you guys just wait one more month and I’ll write about you, too! From the moment they were born I can remember every detail about them. Hannah had a full head of hair…Ashley looked so sweet and tiny…Parker’s feet were gynormous…these were my first thoughts of these children who now rule my world. Moms have these gifts that no one can take away from them…the love at first sight shit that you hear about is real! Moms know this! And then the ride is a crazy one. My mom used to say, “You’re driving me to drink!”. I get it, mom!!! All moms get it. I am actually surprised that they are alive and that I didn’t kill them. I can’t even keep a houseplant alive, for Christ’s sake. I came close many a time. I rolled up Parker’s head in the window. I made them eat hot sauce when they were bad. I resorted to dish soap when they started to like the hot sauce, only to abandon it when my crying child blew soap bubbles and I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. And then there’s the ‘death grip’ they would receive (and every mother knows about the death grip, and if they say they don’t, then they are lying). But they lived… and they loved…. So much so that I would vacuum with one on my back carrier and one on my hip. I woke up with feet in my face. I went to bed with bottles of milk behind my pillow so that I wouldn’t have to walk to the kitchen when they woke up at night. My oldest didn’t sleep through the night until she was 5! It was an all nighter every night, and not the fun kind. We all know this! We all have had those moments where you just feel like you have on a suit of Velcro and they are just stuck to you. And they are fighting over who gets to sit by mom in the car, restaurant, plane. And you find yourself reading books to them as they poop on the potty. And the bathtub rituals end with bubbles everywhere and an empty tub of toys. And the nights are filled with putting the house back together, somehow, from toys to socks to crayons. And you tip toe around the bedroom like a stealth bank robber afraid to set off the alarm just so you can have an hour to yourself. Then you wake up from your mommy coma and they have gone from your bed to their bed, to down the street, to across the town. The shitheads grow up without even realizing it. Your days become consumed with being on the sidelines watching them grow up, whether it is on a football field, horse show, or an email account. You watch them make friends and find love. You watch them drive away and you say your prayers for them to “please be safe”. Your sleepless nights you had when they were babies become sleepless nights that you have until they are home from a night out with friends.  You teach love and caring only to watch some boy or girl break their heart…and there is no princess band aid that you can put on this one! Your kisses goodnight become a “goodnight, I love you “ text from your house to their dorm (preferably using emojis)...You go on their social media so you can see what they are doing; how they are feeling; and maybe a smiling selfie to assure you that they are happy. You did it!!! You survived step one! Yup, step one!!!!! Now what? Who knows? No one knows. No one knows anything about how to do this job that encompasses our hearts and fills our world. We figure it out as we go along. All moms figure it out as we go. No one knows what kind of kid they are going to get. Will they be good, bad, have addictions, depression,; be bullies or get bullied; have ambition or not. You just don’t know, so you take it day by day until you figure out what to do on THAT day. One thing is for sure and that is that we all want the same thing: happiness for our child. When asked what I wanted for Mother’s Day I wanted to yell, “Pills, a stiff drink, anything to get me away”, but in actuality all moms really want is to see them smile. That’s it! SO, Happy Mother’s Day to all the different types of moms out there and whatever kind of kids you are raising: the mothers of the Nairobi girls who can’t be found; the parents who lost a child for whatever reason, whether physically or emotionally; the mothers of leaders and of the losers; the physically challenged or the physically fit; the depressed or the hyper; the sinners or the saints. We don’t know what we are getting, so be patient with yourselves,,,and with them, too! In the end all we want is to see them smile…

“MMMMOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM” gotta go, someone needs me….

If you know me, you know that I am a sucker for words. Words that make me think; make YOU think; create a thought; change a perception; spark a friendship; solve a feud; bring people closer to their loved ones. I've collected words since I was little. I have many unfinished journals with quotes that meant something to me in my teenage years. I have photo albums full of birthday, holiday, whatever cards…starting with my 5th birthday. I guess I should have been a writer, but chose the soccer mom/taxi driver/professional shopper/collector of diplomas as a better route; although, they may just be props for writing material. When I share my words, or other peoples' words, it is because I am letting you into my life, and how I see the world through these foggy, rose colored glasses! 

This passage is one of my favorites! Enjoy it, apply it, share it! ((((hugs)))))

“I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through. Tell me what the word “home” means to you and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mother’s name just by the way you describe your bed room when you were 8. See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones. Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain or bounce in the bellies of snow? And if you were to build a snowman, would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms? Or would you leave the snowman armless for the sake of being harmless to the tree? And if you would, would you notice how that tree weeps for you because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek? Do you kiss your friends on the cheek? Do you sleep beside them when they’re sad, even if it makes your lover mad? Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain? See, I wanna know what you think of your first name. And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mother’s joy when she spoke it for the very first time. I want you tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind. Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel. See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living. I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving. And if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes. I wanna know if you bleed sometimes through other people’s wounds.” 

-Andrea Gibson

Snowballs

"To live in this world you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.”

Her smile is different. Her laugh sounds unfamiliar. I’m not sure when it happened. I think it started with her new found independence. The time she’s away from me. Her new life. I listen to the stories about her friends in each room on her dorm floor. It is almost as if I’m watching a soap opera, or a short documentary. And when she talks about these people that I have never met, she sparkles. Is it possible to sparkle, or light up when describing people or telling stories? It’s her life. It is about absorbing the relationships around her; and guarding them. She is kind when she talks about them; like they are in her heart. She is strong about them; like they are her ‘family’. We get in the elevator with a tall man-child. They talk about daily events like they are old-time friends, who are reconnecting. It is then that I realized that things are different. I am no longer responsible for her decisions or her friendships. I used to find mothers on the playground and exchange numbers to set up play dates. I would watch children at school, that I thought looked like they would be a good friend, and encourage relationships between my children. I did everything possible as a mother to make sure that MY children weren’t the ones that were left out, or the last to be picked for a team, or the ones who sat alone on the bus. I did everything possible to teach them how to make friends and be good people. I still tell them the same phrase when they get out of my car each day; “Be a friend to someone who doesn’t have a friend”, so that they know how important kindness, and integrity, and loyalty is in life. And you hope that these things ‘stick’. You hope that these are tools that they use in some aspect of their lives. Then you find yourself sitting next to your adult child and you listen; and reflect; and hear what they are truly saying between the words that are coming out of their mouth. That is when you realize how much they are watching you; when you’re driving to the grocery store, or you’re talking to a store employee; when you are with your friends, and when you are with complete strangers. It starts when they are babies. They learn about life through your actions. They learn how to care and how to live. She tells me stories about Room 204, or Room 508, or Room 345. She’s involved in a world that consists of 8 floors and 800 beds. It is her neighborhood. A boy goes by on a skateboard and she can tell me little snippets about whom he is and what he’s studying and where he is from. She knows the ‘secret’ doors to go in. She walks in the building with a sense of homecoming that I can feel inside myself. There is calmness about being there for her. Inside her dorm room she tells me things about her roommate like a mother that speaks of her own child. She describes things that her roommate likes, or doesn’t like. For instance, she says, “Don’t move Sarah’s chocolate, that is the only thing she is crazy about”. She has cabinets that hold ‘their’ cleaning supplies, ‘their’ lotions, and ‘their’ stuff. Her world. And I discovered that she knows how to do laundry, and make reservations, and fix her car, and pay debts, and replace ink, and schedule meetings. She has friends from all over the country and all over the world. She is excited about new classes and old friendships. She has friends with cancer and friends with struggles. She has sorority ‘families with ‘bigs’, and ‘littles’, and ‘grandbigs’, and ‘sisters’. She has friends on drugs and friends in trouble. She has friends ‘going nowhere’ and friends ‘on top of the world’. She has Monday night Chapter meetings and Friday night fraternity parties. We drive by restaurants and she tells me their menu or their wait times. We drive by buildings and she can tell me someone that lives in it or something about it. We enter the bookstore and she tells me that she likes to wander around here because she likes how it feels. And there are names I never heard before, like Alexa, or Celeste, or Simone; like Tiffany, or Jeremy. When she talks I watch her. She lights up. There is a sparkle and a driving force behind her words. I realize that parents set the stage. We lay the foundation. We give the initial pushes; like one foot in front of the other. Then the momentum gets going. The wheel starts spinning; like a snowball rolling down a hill. It starts off small, gathering as it goes. It rolls on and on until, before you know it, it has doubled in size. It grabs its surroundings as it’s rolling on. It takes what it needs. Some things stick to it and some things don’t. Then you find yourself sitting next to your child and listening to their outlook on life and friendships and experiences and you see that your words and actions have stuck. They are officially young people out in a great big world. And they are surviving. They know how to shop at the grocery store, and schedule an appointment, and fill out papers, and foster friendships, and care for other people. And all you can do as a parent is sit back and watch. I find my mind wandering when she is talking. I find myself watching her mouth and looking at her mannerisms when she is telling me her stories. I think to myself that this is a person that I would choose as a friend, if I didn’t know her. I watch her and I think, “what a cool person”. So my car, and hers, is full of what she brought home for the holidays. Her ‘stuff’. The final load is in the washing machine. She is still asleep. My last couple hours with the family intact. I am extra quiet this morning as to not awake her, because I know what it means when she starts her day. She, we, will drive 14.8 miles to a neighborhood, a ‘family’, a room, a building, with 800 people that get to see her every day. It doesn’t get any easier. She has an apartment starting this summer. She has no reason to stay at home anymore. Her breaks and vacations will be spent visiting home, but not staying home. And this makes me sad. But I am also happy for her life at the same time. I have so many friends and family members that have small children. I watch them playing and I think that someday they will be living on their own and paving their own paths. It happens in an instance. There are so many children that we have met in our lives that have passed away, got sick, lost their path from drugs or alcohol, had families broken up, got pregnant, that have started their lives as the little teary-eyed kindergartener in circle time with my children. It happens. Life can take a sharp turn that you don’t expect. Here’s a quote that sums it up, ““I walked over to the hill where we used to go and sled. There were a lot of little kids there. I watched them flying. Doing jumps and having races. And I thought that all those little kids are going to grow up someday. And all of those little kids are going to do the things that we do. And they will all kiss someone someday. But for now, sledding is enough. I think it would be great if sledding were always enough, but it isn't.” Don’t you wish you could freeze it? Time? She’s asleep now. I just went in her room and rubbed her arm. She is so soft and familiar. She awakes and I ask her if there are any last minute things she wants me to do for her. She says, “no mom, but thanks”. And I know that those 4 little words mean more than they convey. When she wakes up she will put her foot on the floor and then out into the world again. For now, I let her sleep in MY world, in OUR home, before she goes.

I threw away the ham today. And the turkey. The family went home. The house is filthy. The garage is overflowing with boxes that migrated from storage; they are marked ‘Christmas’. As I ventured into the garage to tackle the task ahead of me, I….went for a run. Nice one, Amy! Then I came home and sat at the computer, waiting for a thought to pop in my head of something I could search. I had no plan. I just felt like I needed some wit, or wisdom, or perhaps even a new drink recipe at this point. This is what silence does to you. It makes you think. It makes you reflect. I found what I was looking for and I thought I would share it with you. Some (many) of you won’t read through this. I actually know EXACTLY which one of you will read every word (Julie) and which of you won’t (Tommy). Ha. I actually have a couple friends whom if I ask if they got a text I sent, have said, “Yes, I got it, but didn’t read the whole thing yet”…it’s a TEXT!!! Anyways, if you read this I think it will be a nice way to start your holiday season. Mazel tov…Merry Christmas:

This is written by Hannah Brencher. I’ll provide a link to her blog at the end.

Thoughts: This world isn’t about you, and love still wins.

That’s it. Maybe that’s all.

The world revolves around none of us and reminding yourself of that on a daily basis feels a lot like freedom. And love wins. Over and over again. No matter how much we try to say that something else matters more than it, love still wins. We still want it most. She’s still the prom queen. She’s still the thing that keeps this broken world spinning. Somehow, somehow, she does.

I feel like I am drowning sometimes. Drowning in a place where everyone wants to size you up and call you worthy based on the platform you have or the “likes” you gather in. Drowning because the world only teaches me to fix myself instead of saying quietly into the softer parts of me, “You’re whole. You’re not missing a thing.”

We’re trained to believe it is about us though. Me & Me & Me.

The culture we live in right now is a cheap party host. She’s not feeding us right. She’s giving us plates and plates of marshmallows and chocolate chips and Twizzlers and all these goodies that feel good & right & sweet for about 5 minutes. And then we are hungry again. And we want something more. And we crave substance. But it’s just more and more garbage that never grows us stronger or makes us better or opens our eyes up to the fact that a lot of things we focus on are petty & stupid & not worth the time.

But if you look her in the eye, and if you ask her why she feeds us this, she will tell you straight, “You asked for this. This was what you asked for. This is what you choose to shovel into your mouths and I am just showing up with the platters.”

I can say the culture is a mess but I am still listening to it. I am still in the thick of it. I am still attending the party. On a daily basis, I am forgetting the people I could be calling “brother” because I want a latte in a red cup, and I want to be skinnier, and I want to meet someone, and I want my business to thrive, and I want my writing to be good. And you might have just passed me on the street and I didn’t look up. I am sorry but I didn’t look up to give you something you deserved this entire time. My attention. I’m trying to be better. It’s a daily kind of thing.

We say we want more than this. And yet we care so darn much about the latest gossip from celebrities who will never touch us, or know us, or feed us, or kiss us, or care to ask us how we are doing. And we are angry over trivial things. And we give up on one another too easily.

It’s like that old computer game. Minesweeper? Was that it? Where it was only just a matter of time before you clicked and caused an explosion. That’s the world we live in today. Setting one another off. Good ways. Bad ways. Irreparable ways. Damaging one another and walking away.  There’s something wrong with that. We should focus more on remedying that than on lip gloss, or party favors, or what we are hoping he brings through the door this holiday season.

We say we want to be better than this.

We want to be good humans. We want to master this “random acts of kindness” thing. Kindness should drive you insane. It should hurt you deep because it’s hard to love people constantly. It should make you want to grit your teeth. You should sign up for those kinds of feelings every, every day. Kindness shouldn’t be the thing we turn on and off like a lamp switch or check off a list when we’ve helped some elderly woman across the road. Kindness is just Love without makeup. It’s just the basics. It’s just the starting point. It’s not some cute little word that implies love letters and babies giggling. It’s absolutely everything in a world that is starving for more of it.

To think we should only sprinkle love upon the worthy & on the ones who cross our paths & when it is comfortable and convenient for us is weak thinking. Love is the kind of thing that screams in your face, “Plaster me everywhere. Smear me on everyone. Cake me thick in your conversations. Don’t stray. Let me push you to meet the neighbors I have placed absolutely everywhere for you.”

“Make me famous,” Love would say. “Make me absolutely famous.”

There is a reason you are sitting up at midnight, eyes red & puffy, watching videos of humans being good to one another. Watching proposals that show a kind of love that can be enviable and extreme. Bursting at the seams.

You want it too. No matter how many times we twist and morph that word into something that gets flung around and pushed out and falsified and changed for the sake of cheap commercialism, you want it. You want to believe it is still out there.

You want someone to show up for you. Man. Woman. Friend. Lover. We might all need to learn how to take care of that delicate thing better. So it doesn’t break so often. So we don’t devalue you with our careless human hands. You might need to change things. You might need to grow more. Know your weaknesses and resolve to be better. Get help. Tell someone. But don’t go another day thinking you can’t have it. Or that you can’t give it away.

I want that kind of love. The kind of love that is awkward and uncomfortable. And it makes something inside of you want to explode. And it isn’t always pretty but it promises to make you feel alive. I want it. In friendships. In family. In relationships. All of it.

I don’t want the followers. I don’t need a grand proposal. I don’t really want the marshmallows anymore either. I just want that feeling. The kind that makes the tiniest hairs on your forearms stand up because you never knew you could mean that much to someone else.

I just want to hear someone stand in the doorway, or the hallway, or the bookstore, or the street, and say, “You showed up. I didn’t think anyone was coming but you showed up.”

You showed up. I didn’t think anyone was coming but you showed up.

That would be enough for me.

Link: http://hannahbrencher.com/2013/11/10/the-world-isnt-about-you-and-love-still-wins/

Merry Christmas, friends. I am glad you showed up!