I support my husband. He is a musician and that takes him away from home on a fairly regular basis. In addition to his 40+ hour a week day job, he is often gone 2 or 3 nights a week with band related things. He is incredibly talented, and that isn't just a proud wife talking. Music is in his blood, he needs it to survive. Music was his first love, it came along way before I did and it's not going anywhere, nor would I want it to. Being a lover of music myself, although lacking the talent to create it, I feel like I can safely say that I understand his passion for it. All that being said, it's still not easy to deal with.
Nearly every weekend, I kiss my husband goodbye and watch him leave to go perform. He stands on a stage for 3 or 4 hours with 4 other incredibly talented men and entertains people. He makes me SO proud, so it's really hard for me to say that a lot of times I hate it. It's not the music that I hate, or even him being gone so much, although that does suck. What makes me uncomfortable is some of the people that are there for the show. Yes people, I'm talking about the women. I want to state clearly for the record that I trust my husband 100%. This is not about jealousy on my part or worrying that my husband will cheat. This is about respect. There are always women that come to shows that somehow think that these men are onstage for them. Not for their entertainment, but for THEM. These men get onstage and perform. From my experience it's about 95% music and 5% acting. Unfortunately, some of these women get a few drinks in them and suddenly think that jumping onstage and grinding on other women’s husbands is acceptable. Never mind the tens of thousands of dollars of equipment and instruments that they are stumbling around. They forget that although these guys are there to entertain them with music, they are not their property to touch, dance on, etc.
I have been going to see local bands for a long time, a lot longer than I've known my husband, and I have NEVER acted inappropriately with any member of any band, much less a married one. I like to go out, have a couple drinks, dance, and have a good time, and I can accomplish all these things without making a fool of myself or being disrespectful to other peoples spouses. Why can't everyone? Why is it that these women can't stop and think about the fact that these men are taken, or even the sacrifices that spouses of musicians make, and respect that. Why do lines have to be crossed? The truth of the matter is, it ruins OUR fun to have to watch that behavior, or worse yet, have to think about what might be going on when we aren't able to make a show because we are at home raising these men’s children, even if we are 100% confident that our spouses won't stray.
I guess the point of all my rambling is simple. Ladies, come to their shows, have a good time, but please respect the musicians and their private lives as you would want us to respect yours, but most of all, show some respect for yourself and find yourself a good man that YOU can be proud of. Ours are taken.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Peeves... Pet and Otherwise
I have several pet peeves. Things that irritate me. Things that make me want to look at people and call them morons. Since I don't want to make all of these people completely mad at me, I'll just write about them here and then when they ask if I was referring to them I'll say "Of course not!" ;) So here are a few of the more annoying ones, in no particular order:
1. Kicking the back of my seat in the car. If you are sitting behind me in the car, please either hold your feet still or drive yourself. Kicking the back of my seat will only make me want to drive us all off the road. Not good.
2. The misuse of the words "then" and "than." THEN is a word that refers to a period of time. For instance: I will write this blog and THEN I will deny that it's about anyone I am close to. The word THAN is a word used for comparison purposes. For instance: People who know the difference between these words are smarter THAN you.
3. Misuse of the "@" symbol. You would think in a time where people use this symbol to type email addresses and websites, they would figure out that it means AT, yet here I am explaining to people that you cannot use it to mean ABOUT. It does not mean "about." You can not tell me @ something. Ugggggh!!!
4. People who leave voicemails on cell phones saying "It's me, just call me back." Um, I know it's you. The reason that I know it's you is because sometime in the 90's an incredibly smart person brought the caller ID to consumers like you and me, and I use it.
Ok, I've complained enough for one day... just one question... Is there anyone out there whose pet peeve is bloggers who complain too much?? ;)
1. Kicking the back of my seat in the car. If you are sitting behind me in the car, please either hold your feet still or drive yourself. Kicking the back of my seat will only make me want to drive us all off the road. Not good.
2. The misuse of the words "then" and "than." THEN is a word that refers to a period of time. For instance: I will write this blog and THEN I will deny that it's about anyone I am close to. The word THAN is a word used for comparison purposes. For instance: People who know the difference between these words are smarter THAN you.
3. Misuse of the "@" symbol. You would think in a time where people use this symbol to type email addresses and websites, they would figure out that it means AT, yet here I am explaining to people that you cannot use it to mean ABOUT. It does not mean "about." You can not tell me @ something. Ugggggh!!!
4. People who leave voicemails on cell phones saying "It's me, just call me back." Um, I know it's you. The reason that I know it's you is because sometime in the 90's an incredibly smart person brought the caller ID to consumers like you and me, and I use it.
Ok, I've complained enough for one day... just one question... Is there anyone out there whose pet peeve is bloggers who complain too much?? ;)
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
I'm a work in progress.
Everyone has issues. Some are big, some are small, but we all have them. I struggle with demons from my past, and when I say struggle I mean I fight them every day.
When I was 15 years old I met a boy who would eventually become the father of my son. He was the guy all the girls wanted. He was good looking and charming, he was fun to be around, and he was the "bad boy". He was the wild one that couldn't be tamed and me being the stubborn girl with "daddy issues", well I was going to tame him. For the better part of 4 years I tried... sometimes I made progress and sometimes I didn't. What I didn't know then was that you can't make someone be what you want them to be.
When I got pregnant I thought that maybe this was exactly what we needed to finally settle down. I was SO wrong. When children try to be adults, ugly things can happen. The stress of going from a carefree teenager to a parent proved to be too much for us. To say that the relationship turned ugly would be an understatement. Things became constantly strained and tense and eventually the screaming matches turned physical.
We were both at fault, we were both to blame. Our lack of maturity prevented us from expressing our frustrations in a positive manner and it wasn't healthy for anyone involved, so we split up. I have a lot of residual hurt from those years. It's easy for me to say that I'm over it, and that I dealt with it, and in a lot of ways I have. However the other night while talking to my husband, a realization hit me.
When I look at my son, I see his father. His facial expressions, his smile, the way he purses his lips when he's trying to pull one over on me, the anger in his eyes when he thinks I'm being unfair, and even some of the things that he says. It's hard, I've known that for years, but what I just realized was WHY. It's hard to raise a child that I love so much, when he reminds me SO MUCH of a time in my life that was so painful. I wouldn't change one second of my life, because if I did, I wouldn't be where I am and I wouldn't have the child that I have. What I need to remember is that it's not Nathans fault that he looks like his dad, and it's not Nathans fault that he wants to be just like his dad. I made choices that laid the foundation of his life and I need to try and remember when he's pushing me to my limits that he's Nathan... not his father.
Somehow through all of my wrong turns, I made a few correct ones. I have not only somehow managed to raise a child that is turning into a man that I am proud of, but I also found a man that loves me despite my "issues", and together we created the most beautiful, happy little girl that I've ever seen. My husband understands my demons, he watches me fight them and he steps in when he knows I'm losing the battle. He understands that sometimes I build walls around myself and that more often than not, I need him to help me tear them down. He takes me for what I am below the surface and understands that what I let most people see isn't always the "real" me. He knows that I'm a work in progress, and he loves me anyway.
When I was 15 years old I met a boy who would eventually become the father of my son. He was the guy all the girls wanted. He was good looking and charming, he was fun to be around, and he was the "bad boy". He was the wild one that couldn't be tamed and me being the stubborn girl with "daddy issues", well I was going to tame him. For the better part of 4 years I tried... sometimes I made progress and sometimes I didn't. What I didn't know then was that you can't make someone be what you want them to be.
When I got pregnant I thought that maybe this was exactly what we needed to finally settle down. I was SO wrong. When children try to be adults, ugly things can happen. The stress of going from a carefree teenager to a parent proved to be too much for us. To say that the relationship turned ugly would be an understatement. Things became constantly strained and tense and eventually the screaming matches turned physical.
We were both at fault, we were both to blame. Our lack of maturity prevented us from expressing our frustrations in a positive manner and it wasn't healthy for anyone involved, so we split up. I have a lot of residual hurt from those years. It's easy for me to say that I'm over it, and that I dealt with it, and in a lot of ways I have. However the other night while talking to my husband, a realization hit me.
When I look at my son, I see his father. His facial expressions, his smile, the way he purses his lips when he's trying to pull one over on me, the anger in his eyes when he thinks I'm being unfair, and even some of the things that he says. It's hard, I've known that for years, but what I just realized was WHY. It's hard to raise a child that I love so much, when he reminds me SO MUCH of a time in my life that was so painful. I wouldn't change one second of my life, because if I did, I wouldn't be where I am and I wouldn't have the child that I have. What I need to remember is that it's not Nathans fault that he looks like his dad, and it's not Nathans fault that he wants to be just like his dad. I made choices that laid the foundation of his life and I need to try and remember when he's pushing me to my limits that he's Nathan... not his father.
Somehow through all of my wrong turns, I made a few correct ones. I have not only somehow managed to raise a child that is turning into a man that I am proud of, but I also found a man that loves me despite my "issues", and together we created the most beautiful, happy little girl that I've ever seen. My husband understands my demons, he watches me fight them and he steps in when he knows I'm losing the battle. He understands that sometimes I build walls around myself and that more often than not, I need him to help me tear them down. He takes me for what I am below the surface and understands that what I let most people see isn't always the "real" me. He knows that I'm a work in progress, and he loves me anyway.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Breaking The Cycle
Tomorrow my baby starts High School. He starts High School. Nathan is starting High School. It doesn't matter how I say it, or how many times I say it, I just can't believe it. I can remember holding his hand when we crossed the street. Rocking him to sleep at night. Walking him into pre-school for the first time. The first time he said "ma-ma". Watching him sleep when he was a baby. Kissing the tears away when he fell down and skinned his knee. Putting together his tricycle. How did he grow up so fast?
I'm met with mixed emotions. I'm excited for him, I'm scared for him, I'm scared for me. High School for me was the beginning of a downward slide of bad choices. I'm terrified that my son will make the same mistakes. He will be met with new freedom that he's never experienced before. He will be mixed in with kids that are 2, 3 and 4 years older than he is. Kids that have made certain choices about sex, alcohol, drugs, or cigarettes that I don't want him choosing.
So I'm presented with the question; Have I done enough to prepare him? The answer is no, because no matter what, you can always do more. I could have had more talks with him. I could have stressed the importance of staying in school even more than I already have. I could have told him how proud I am of him even more often than I have. I could have also locked him in the basement and lost the key until he's about 25... wait, I might still have time for that one! I have never been so afraid in my entire life.
Nathans father and I both left high school before we finished. We also both eventually went back and got diplomas after the fact, but that is not something that I deem acceptable for our son. We also got pregnant just out of high school. That is ABSOLUTELY not ok for Nathan to do. Nathan is going to do things differently. The cycle ends here. I screwed a lot of things up for myself and it made my journey a lot harder than it needed to be. I will not let him do the same.
I have heard a lot over the last several years from members of my family that I am "too hard" on Nathan. I don't agree. My family was not hard enough on me. I'm in no way blaming them for the mistakes that I made, however I do believe that I made some of those decisions because I knew I would get away with it. My son should know that he won't. I look at him in the same way that I'm sure my mom looked at me when I was starting high school. He has so much promise. He's smart and funny and sweet and loving. Sometimes I can't believe that even through all of the parental mistakes I've made over the years, he has still turned into such an amazing young man.
So now I wait. I wait and hope that everything that I've taught him up until now will stick with him, and I will continue to stress the importance of making good choices and hope that somehow I get through to him. I have a feeling I will spend a good part of the next four years holding my breath, with my fingers crossed, while praying... feel free to join me.
I'm met with mixed emotions. I'm excited for him, I'm scared for him, I'm scared for me. High School for me was the beginning of a downward slide of bad choices. I'm terrified that my son will make the same mistakes. He will be met with new freedom that he's never experienced before. He will be mixed in with kids that are 2, 3 and 4 years older than he is. Kids that have made certain choices about sex, alcohol, drugs, or cigarettes that I don't want him choosing.
So I'm presented with the question; Have I done enough to prepare him? The answer is no, because no matter what, you can always do more. I could have had more talks with him. I could have stressed the importance of staying in school even more than I already have. I could have told him how proud I am of him even more often than I have. I could have also locked him in the basement and lost the key until he's about 25... wait, I might still have time for that one! I have never been so afraid in my entire life.
Nathans father and I both left high school before we finished. We also both eventually went back and got diplomas after the fact, but that is not something that I deem acceptable for our son. We also got pregnant just out of high school. That is ABSOLUTELY not ok for Nathan to do. Nathan is going to do things differently. The cycle ends here. I screwed a lot of things up for myself and it made my journey a lot harder than it needed to be. I will not let him do the same.
I have heard a lot over the last several years from members of my family that I am "too hard" on Nathan. I don't agree. My family was not hard enough on me. I'm in no way blaming them for the mistakes that I made, however I do believe that I made some of those decisions because I knew I would get away with it. My son should know that he won't. I look at him in the same way that I'm sure my mom looked at me when I was starting high school. He has so much promise. He's smart and funny and sweet and loving. Sometimes I can't believe that even through all of the parental mistakes I've made over the years, he has still turned into such an amazing young man.
So now I wait. I wait and hope that everything that I've taught him up until now will stick with him, and I will continue to stress the importance of making good choices and hope that somehow I get through to him. I have a feeling I will spend a good part of the next four years holding my breath, with my fingers crossed, while praying... feel free to join me.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Finding Security
I've always been fairly independent. More on the "leader" side than the side of "follower". My mother taught me well. She raised my sister and I for the majority of our lives without any help and made it look easy, although I know it wasn't. I always thought that independence was a good thing, and in a lot of ways it is. I've been raised to know how to do things that usually fall into the category of male responsibility. I can replace the inner workings of a toilet, I know how to shut off the water valve in case of a leak, put up weather stripping, change a flat tire, check my oil, and I'm pretty handy with a hammer and nail. I have proudly stated dozens of times over the course of the last 10 or so years that I didn't "need" a man and that I could take care of myself. This is still true to a certain degree, but something has shifted.
I can remember telling my husband in the very early stages of our relationship that even though I loved him, I would never "need" him. The thought of it makes me cringe now. What a horrible thing to say. What I was trying to communicate was that I wasn't needy, that I wasn't looking for a caretaker, I was looking for a partner. I didn't communicate it very well at all. I can't even imagine what it probably felt like for him to hear me say that, and I'm sure that he'll never admit it, but it probably hurt his feelings.
The truth is, I don't NEED him in the literal sense. I would survive if I didn't have him. But all literal definitions aside, I really do need him. I need him for the support he gives me. I need him to help me raise our daughter. I need him to reassure me when I'm feeling unsure. I need him to be by my side and most of all, I need him to love me. He provides me with something that no one else has been able to give me. Security. I know that no matter what happens I will always have someone on my side. No matter how badly I screw something up I know that he will stand by me.
I hope that he knows that I was wrong when I said I'd never need him. I hope he knows that I've never counted on someone as much as I do him, and that I never even trusted anyone enough to be able to count on them. I also hope that I've provided him with some sense of security and that he needs me even half as much as I need him.
I can remember telling my husband in the very early stages of our relationship that even though I loved him, I would never "need" him. The thought of it makes me cringe now. What a horrible thing to say. What I was trying to communicate was that I wasn't needy, that I wasn't looking for a caretaker, I was looking for a partner. I didn't communicate it very well at all. I can't even imagine what it probably felt like for him to hear me say that, and I'm sure that he'll never admit it, but it probably hurt his feelings.
The truth is, I don't NEED him in the literal sense. I would survive if I didn't have him. But all literal definitions aside, I really do need him. I need him for the support he gives me. I need him to help me raise our daughter. I need him to reassure me when I'm feeling unsure. I need him to be by my side and most of all, I need him to love me. He provides me with something that no one else has been able to give me. Security. I know that no matter what happens I will always have someone on my side. No matter how badly I screw something up I know that he will stand by me.
I hope that he knows that I was wrong when I said I'd never need him. I hope he knows that I've never counted on someone as much as I do him, and that I never even trusted anyone enough to be able to count on them. I also hope that I've provided him with some sense of security and that he needs me even half as much as I need him.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
My Greatest Loss
One year ago this month I was the saddest I've ever been.
My husband and I found out we were expecting a baby... and 3 days later, I lost that baby.
There really aren't words to properly express how I felt. I was miserable. I felt loss like I had never felt it before. I cried for days. I knew that there was nothing that I could have done to prevent it and that I didn't do anything to cause it and still I blamed myself. I never felt this baby move, heard it's heartbeat, or saw it on an ultrasound and yet I loved it.
My husband was amazing. Through his pain he focused only on me. He held me while I cried, he told me he loved me, he asked what he could do to help. There was nothing he could do. I could see that he was worried about me. He had never seen me in that state before and I'm sure it was probably a shock given that I always pride myself on being so outwardly strong.
Possibly the hardest part of this harsh reality was that in our excitement about the baby we had "announced" my pregnancy on Facebook. Literally one of my first thoughts when I realized I was miscarrying was "this is why you don't tell people this early." I was ashamed, and now I had to publicly announce that I had lost this precious gift that I had been given.
I waited a day or two, and ignored the "congratulations" and well wishes that I received on my facebook page. Every notification was like a knife to my heart. Here were people who were genuinely happy for us, wanting to share in our joy, and it nearly killed me every time I'd read another one. Then after a few days, I posted the news.
I braced myself. I'm not sure what I was expecting... probably a few people offering their condolences, and maybe some more well meaning people trying to comfort me by saying things like "at least it was early enough that you didn't feel it move." (yes, people actually said things like that to me) What I received was more than I could have asked for. I got reassurance. In addition to the dozens of people who expressed their sorrow for us publicly, I also got private messages from several women. I won't name them here because they know who they are, but what they did was tell me that they understood. It had happened to them too. Some of them had been through one miscarriage, some had been through two or three or even more. Some of these women are friends of mine, and some are casual aquaintences. These women took their pain and used it to help me heal. What an incredible thing. I know it wasn't easy for them to relive those feelings, but they did. They reached out because they knew.
I like to find positive things in the midst of negativity. In addition to those amazing women who shared their experiences with me, I got a second chance. Just 5 weeks after I lost our baby, I found out that I was pregnant again and May 14th I gave birth to my second chance. I was terrified thoroughout most of my pregnancy. As any woman who has lost a baby knows, once you experience it, you're afraid that it will happen again. I have to look at my miscarriage as a stepping stone to my daughter, because without it, I wouldn't have her. God knew something about the first baby that I didn't, and I have to trust that He knew what was best for me. He doesn't make mistakes, and I have the proof...
Friday, July 15, 2011
The Ongoing Saga of Raising a Teenager.
I can remember when my son was about 4 or 5 and the dreaded question came out of his mouth: "Mommy, where do babies come from?" My stomach dropped at least 10 feet and I thought I might throw up. I recovered pretty quickly though and I replied "God sent you to me." He nodded his head and went back to playing with his Leggos and I immediately felt like I was the BEST parent in the world. I thought to myself, "this isn't so bad." I spoke too soon. He looked at me with those big blue eyes and innocently said "But I heard on TV that the daddy and mommy make the baby" I panicked for a minute and then said "Mommys and Daddys who love each other have babies, but God creates them" This was not flying, and I could clearly see that. I tried a different approach... "Mommy and Daddy loved each other so much that God gave us a baby, and I carried you in my tummy and when you were big enough, you were born. "Danger... Danger... I had gone too far. His eyes got very big and he said "I was in your tummy?" I nodded and he said "YOU ATE ME???"
When I look back on this conversation, I don't really remember how scary it was, I only feel amused. Remembering now, it's all very innocent and cute, and NOTHING compared to the conversations that I'm required to have with him now. Just last night at dinner we were chatting and I casually brought up smoking. He assures me he's never tried it, and that it smells disgusting and he won't ever do it, but I know better. He will more than likely try smoking, and drinking, and drugs. It's terrifying. He will also probably have sex long before he's emotionally ready for it, and years and years before he finds the woman that he will spend the rest of his life with. He will get pressured to try things that he's afraid of, and I can only hope that he makes the right choices and that I've raised him to know that his opinion of himself is much more important than what anyone else might think if he doesn't follow the crowd.
I have been very honest with him about the mistakes that I made when I was younger. He knows the struggles that I had by having him so young. I love him and I wouldn't trade him for anything in the world, but if I could have hit a pause button and just waited a few years, things would have been better for both of us. I can only hope that by being open and honest with him about my experiences, he will make better choices for himself.
Raising a teenager is a lot like white water rafting. It's fun and scary all at the same time, and you just hold on for dear life and hope everyone makes it to the end.
When I look back on this conversation, I don't really remember how scary it was, I only feel amused. Remembering now, it's all very innocent and cute, and NOTHING compared to the conversations that I'm required to have with him now. Just last night at dinner we were chatting and I casually brought up smoking. He assures me he's never tried it, and that it smells disgusting and he won't ever do it, but I know better. He will more than likely try smoking, and drinking, and drugs. It's terrifying. He will also probably have sex long before he's emotionally ready for it, and years and years before he finds the woman that he will spend the rest of his life with. He will get pressured to try things that he's afraid of, and I can only hope that he makes the right choices and that I've raised him to know that his opinion of himself is much more important than what anyone else might think if he doesn't follow the crowd.
I have been very honest with him about the mistakes that I made when I was younger. He knows the struggles that I had by having him so young. I love him and I wouldn't trade him for anything in the world, but if I could have hit a pause button and just waited a few years, things would have been better for both of us. I can only hope that by being open and honest with him about my experiences, he will make better choices for himself.
Raising a teenager is a lot like white water rafting. It's fun and scary all at the same time, and you just hold on for dear life and hope everyone makes it to the end.
Perfection
I'm not perfect. In fact, I'm so far from perfect that I can't even see what it looks like from here. So why is it that when I have a certain standard that I require myself to adhere to, I get told that I think I'm "so perfect." News flash, there is a big difference between WANTING things to be perfect and actually BEING perfect. I have a ton of flaws. Among the biggest of my flaws are that I am sometimes bossy and impatient. I can also be very stubborn. Another flaw that I have is that I'm overly sensitive sometimes, and that is the one that I struggle with the most.
I recently saw the following sentence on a friends FB status and it really spoke to me: "...if a person feels judged it is often the still voice inside that accuses them, but it is easier to blame another than deal with the depravity within." It's true. When my feelings get hurt because someone has accused me of something, it's usually because I know they're right. (When I know they're wrong I react usually with an eye roll and a laugh or sometimes I get mad depending on the seriousness of the accusation) It goes both ways. I can see that when I get told I think I'm perfect, it's because that person feels inadequate, not because they really think that I'm perfect. I have learned lately that there are some people that you will never be able to count on. There are some people that will always choose the "fun" over a chore, even when the chore helps someone. I can't take it personally. I have to resolve myself to remembering that just like I have flaws that I battle daily, so do others, and I can't let theirs affect me in a negative way.
I recently saw the following sentence on a friends FB status and it really spoke to me: "...if a person feels judged it is often the still voice inside that accuses them, but it is easier to blame another than deal with the depravity within." It's true. When my feelings get hurt because someone has accused me of something, it's usually because I know they're right. (When I know they're wrong I react usually with an eye roll and a laugh or sometimes I get mad depending on the seriousness of the accusation) It goes both ways. I can see that when I get told I think I'm perfect, it's because that person feels inadequate, not because they really think that I'm perfect. I have learned lately that there are some people that you will never be able to count on. There are some people that will always choose the "fun" over a chore, even when the chore helps someone. I can't take it personally. I have to resolve myself to remembering that just like I have flaws that I battle daily, so do others, and I can't let theirs affect me in a negative way.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Brothers and Sisters
My son has a very mixed family. Mixed? No, that's not really the right word. Blended? That doesn't really sound right either. Complicated... perhaps. Let me explain...
I had my son at the very young and naive age of 18 and his father was not far ahead at 19. Although we were "together" when Nathan was born, we parted ways when he was 9 months old. His father went on to have two more children with another woman, and thus, Nathan has two sisters. Even though his father and I didn't separate on good terms (that may be the understatement of the century), as soon as the first of his other two children was born I was sure of one thing: Nathan had a sister. There were certain people who made comments to Nathan that really upset me. He would say something about his sister and these people would "correct" him and say "she's not your sister, she's your half sister." It made my blood boil, and I never skipped an opportunity to correct THEM.
If you want to get technical about it, yes, they share a father but have different mothers, but I have spent the last 9+ years standing firm on the fact that his fathers children are his sisters. There is no "half" about it. Why was it so important for these people to point out that they didn't share the same two parents. He was only 4 when his first sister was born, but it wasn't as if Nathan was confused about who her mother was. He doesn't love her 50% as much as he would if they shared both parents. She isn't 50% less important. He doesn't spend 50% of his time pretending they aren't related.
Fast forward 9+ years. Just under two months ago, I gave birth to Nathans 3rd sister. (Poor thing... he prayed really hard for a brother LOL) They obviously have the same mother, but they have different fathers. One of those same people recently asked Nathan what he thought of his sister. SISTER... not half sister. I couldn't help but say (sarcastically) "don't you mean HALF sister." This person looked at me and said "no... Grace is his sister, I guess you were right about the "half" thing." My response: I know.
So like I was saying before... My son has a very confusing family. But I happen to think he's pretty lucky.
I had my son at the very young and naive age of 18 and his father was not far ahead at 19. Although we were "together" when Nathan was born, we parted ways when he was 9 months old. His father went on to have two more children with another woman, and thus, Nathan has two sisters. Even though his father and I didn't separate on good terms (that may be the understatement of the century), as soon as the first of his other two children was born I was sure of one thing: Nathan had a sister. There were certain people who made comments to Nathan that really upset me. He would say something about his sister and these people would "correct" him and say "she's not your sister, she's your half sister." It made my blood boil, and I never skipped an opportunity to correct THEM.
If you want to get technical about it, yes, they share a father but have different mothers, but I have spent the last 9+ years standing firm on the fact that his fathers children are his sisters. There is no "half" about it. Why was it so important for these people to point out that they didn't share the same two parents. He was only 4 when his first sister was born, but it wasn't as if Nathan was confused about who her mother was. He doesn't love her 50% as much as he would if they shared both parents. She isn't 50% less important. He doesn't spend 50% of his time pretending they aren't related.
Fast forward 9+ years. Just under two months ago, I gave birth to Nathans 3rd sister. (Poor thing... he prayed really hard for a brother LOL) They obviously have the same mother, but they have different fathers. One of those same people recently asked Nathan what he thought of his sister. SISTER... not half sister. I couldn't help but say (sarcastically) "don't you mean HALF sister." This person looked at me and said "no... Grace is his sister, I guess you were right about the "half" thing." My response: I know.
So like I was saying before... My son has a very confusing family. But I happen to think he's pretty lucky.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Daddy Issues
I've learned a lot in the past several years about Dads. No two are quite the same.
My husband, for instance, has only been a father for about 6 weeks, but he's amazing at it. He loves our daughter and wants all the best things for her. He worries about her and takes care of her. He doesn't do everything right, and yet he strives to be perfect. Perfection doesn't exist when it comes to parenting, and he'll figure that out eventually, but for now it makes my heart almost explode when I see him trying so hard to be everything that he thinks she needs him to be.
My Grandfather is perhaps the best father I've ever had the privelege of knowing. He loves his kids, his grandkids, and his great-grandkids. He is always there when we need him no matter what, and he makes it look easy. He's been like a father to me for most of my life, letting me live with him when I needed a chance to regain my footing, and helping my Grandma take care of Nathan when I was not quite ready to be the mother that he needed.
Then there's my father. My parents got divorced when I was 9. At the time my mother made it seem as though they were splitting up for geographical reasons. My dad had been transfered to Wisconsin for his job and after living there for a year my mom told me and my sister that she wanted to move home to Rockford. We, of course, were happy to go home. We missed our cousins and our grandparents. What I didn't know, and wouldn't for almost a decade, was that my father had been cheating on my mother... and this wasn't the first time. God bless my mother for protecting us from that awful piece of information. She never once in my entire childhood, said a negative thing about my dad in front of me or my sister. Despite her best efforts to keep my father in a positive light for us, we figured out in our own time that he wasn't exactly what a father should be.
We started out visiting my dad every other weekend. After a short time those visits spread out to once a month, and eventually we were only seeing him once every couple of months. Amazingly it took almost 10 years for me to actually connect the term "absentee father" with my own. My mom did everything virtually alone. She had help from my grandparents of course, but now that I've been the "single mom" I know for certain that even with outside help it's just not the same as having TWO parents for your kids.
My dad didn't want kids. I know this because on my 22nd birthday he looked me straight in the eye and said "It's not my fault I was a shitty father because I never wanted you to begin with." No words have ever hurt me more. I felt like someone had stabbed me through the heart. I Looking back I can see now that he didn't mean that he didn't love me, he was just trying to explain why he wasn't good at it. Either way, it was a cop out. I never thought I wanted kids either. The difference between my father and I is that once I had Nathan, I changed my mind. I learned from my mistakes and tried to correct them as best I could. I missed things in the beginning of my sons life. Not because I didn't want him, or because I didn't love him, but because I didn't know I was missing them. My father had been a parent for 22 years the day he revealed his "excuse." He knew exactly what he missed and still didn't care.
It has taken me a long time to come to terms with my feelings about my father. I realized that I got pregnant the first time because of what I was lacking by not having my dad around. Probably most of my rebellious years can be blamed on my "lack of dad" so to speak. I do not blame him for the mistakes I have made, because regardless of WHY I made them, it was still my choice and I knew right from wrong. I love my dad very much and I have accepted him for who he is, flaws and all. I chose to do that because I wanted to keep him in my life. The truth of the matter, however, is that I'm glad that my kids have fathers who love them and show it, and that they get to experience being loved by my grandfather. I feel that the cycle has been broken and that makes up for anything I may have missed out on by not having my dad around.
My husband, for instance, has only been a father for about 6 weeks, but he's amazing at it. He loves our daughter and wants all the best things for her. He worries about her and takes care of her. He doesn't do everything right, and yet he strives to be perfect. Perfection doesn't exist when it comes to parenting, and he'll figure that out eventually, but for now it makes my heart almost explode when I see him trying so hard to be everything that he thinks she needs him to be.
My Grandfather is perhaps the best father I've ever had the privelege of knowing. He loves his kids, his grandkids, and his great-grandkids. He is always there when we need him no matter what, and he makes it look easy. He's been like a father to me for most of my life, letting me live with him when I needed a chance to regain my footing, and helping my Grandma take care of Nathan when I was not quite ready to be the mother that he needed.
Then there's my father. My parents got divorced when I was 9. At the time my mother made it seem as though they were splitting up for geographical reasons. My dad had been transfered to Wisconsin for his job and after living there for a year my mom told me and my sister that she wanted to move home to Rockford. We, of course, were happy to go home. We missed our cousins and our grandparents. What I didn't know, and wouldn't for almost a decade, was that my father had been cheating on my mother... and this wasn't the first time. God bless my mother for protecting us from that awful piece of information. She never once in my entire childhood, said a negative thing about my dad in front of me or my sister. Despite her best efforts to keep my father in a positive light for us, we figured out in our own time that he wasn't exactly what a father should be.
We started out visiting my dad every other weekend. After a short time those visits spread out to once a month, and eventually we were only seeing him once every couple of months. Amazingly it took almost 10 years for me to actually connect the term "absentee father" with my own. My mom did everything virtually alone. She had help from my grandparents of course, but now that I've been the "single mom" I know for certain that even with outside help it's just not the same as having TWO parents for your kids.
My dad didn't want kids. I know this because on my 22nd birthday he looked me straight in the eye and said "It's not my fault I was a shitty father because I never wanted you to begin with." No words have ever hurt me more. I felt like someone had stabbed me through the heart. I Looking back I can see now that he didn't mean that he didn't love me, he was just trying to explain why he wasn't good at it. Either way, it was a cop out. I never thought I wanted kids either. The difference between my father and I is that once I had Nathan, I changed my mind. I learned from my mistakes and tried to correct them as best I could. I missed things in the beginning of my sons life. Not because I didn't want him, or because I didn't love him, but because I didn't know I was missing them. My father had been a parent for 22 years the day he revealed his "excuse." He knew exactly what he missed and still didn't care.
It has taken me a long time to come to terms with my feelings about my father. I realized that I got pregnant the first time because of what I was lacking by not having my dad around. Probably most of my rebellious years can be blamed on my "lack of dad" so to speak. I do not blame him for the mistakes I have made, because regardless of WHY I made them, it was still my choice and I knew right from wrong. I love my dad very much and I have accepted him for who he is, flaws and all. I chose to do that because I wanted to keep him in my life. The truth of the matter, however, is that I'm glad that my kids have fathers who love them and show it, and that they get to experience being loved by my grandfather. I feel that the cycle has been broken and that makes up for anything I may have missed out on by not having my dad around.
The Rush To Grow Up
How do we slow the growing process? I don't mean literally, but rather figuratively. I cannot, for the life of me, figure out how to properly express to my 13 year old that he should enjoy the age he is and not wish his childhood away. He's in such a hurry to do all the things that adults do. It's not uncommon for me to hear him say "I can't wait until I can move out" or "I can't wait until school is over so I can get a job." WHY???
I think I'll write him a letter outlining some of the examples.
Dear Nathan,
In your haste to grow up and leave my house, I believe that you have overlooked some very important issues. I have taken the liberty of listing some of them here for you... If you move out, the following things will happen:
1. Groceries will stop appearing in the kitchen. Not only will you have to pay for them, but you'll also have to go to the store, pick out what you want, load it all in the car, unload it all when you get home, put it all away in the kitchen, and then use what you bought to make something edible to keep yourself alive... it's a lot of work and you might just find yourself wondering if it's even worth it. Sometimes starving sounds more appealing to me than going to the grocery store.
2. The dishes that you use to cook with and eat off of will no longer transport themselves from the sink to the cupboard. In related news, the food that you leave on said dishes will also not remove itself. It's possible that your appetite will also be affected by the way milk smells when it's been left in a glass overnight... it does NOT get better with age.
3. Contrary to what you may think, clothes do NOT wash themselves and then walk themselves to your room and neatly climb into the closet or dresser. You will also become aquainted with a pesky pest called WRINKLES. Wrinkles may be a stranger to you now, but you'll become very close, I assure you.
4. Speaking of clothes, you will find it much less amusing when the dog that you love so much chews up the socks you left on the floor. This is because you will have to pay to replace them.
5. Ignore number 4, I don't know what I was thinking. You won't be able to afford a dog.
6. Although I'm sure you never realized it before, things like water, electricity, and your beloved MTV will no longer be freely accessed. This may cause you to actually turn off a light when you leave a room or (gasp) NOT take a 45 minute shower. Speaking of showers... you will no longer be able to yell from the bathroom: "Mom, I'm out of body wash" and have me respond: "There's more in the cabinet."
7. The $75 shoes that you INSIST on getting will become a distant memory. Suddenly Payless will seem much more tolerable and you'll start wondering why you would pay so much money for something that you walk on all day.
8. Although going to school seems like hard work, it's really not. Going to work is much worse. If you think having me boss you around is bad, just wait until you are making minimum wage and having to take orders from someone who makes twice what you do and does half the work.
Sincerely,
The Maid Your Loving Mother
I think I'll write him a letter outlining some of the examples.
Dear Nathan,
In your haste to grow up and leave my house, I believe that you have overlooked some very important issues. I have taken the liberty of listing some of them here for you... If you move out, the following things will happen:
1. Groceries will stop appearing in the kitchen. Not only will you have to pay for them, but you'll also have to go to the store, pick out what you want, load it all in the car, unload it all when you get home, put it all away in the kitchen, and then use what you bought to make something edible to keep yourself alive... it's a lot of work and you might just find yourself wondering if it's even worth it. Sometimes starving sounds more appealing to me than going to the grocery store.
2. The dishes that you use to cook with and eat off of will no longer transport themselves from the sink to the cupboard. In related news, the food that you leave on said dishes will also not remove itself. It's possible that your appetite will also be affected by the way milk smells when it's been left in a glass overnight... it does NOT get better with age.
3. Contrary to what you may think, clothes do NOT wash themselves and then walk themselves to your room and neatly climb into the closet or dresser. You will also become aquainted with a pesky pest called WRINKLES. Wrinkles may be a stranger to you now, but you'll become very close, I assure you.
4. Speaking of clothes, you will find it much less amusing when the dog that you love so much chews up the socks you left on the floor. This is because you will have to pay to replace them.
5. Ignore number 4, I don't know what I was thinking. You won't be able to afford a dog.
6. Although I'm sure you never realized it before, things like water, electricity, and your beloved MTV will no longer be freely accessed. This may cause you to actually turn off a light when you leave a room or (gasp) NOT take a 45 minute shower. Speaking of showers... you will no longer be able to yell from the bathroom: "Mom, I'm out of body wash" and have me respond: "There's more in the cabinet."
7. The $75 shoes that you INSIST on getting will become a distant memory. Suddenly Payless will seem much more tolerable and you'll start wondering why you would pay so much money for something that you walk on all day.
8. Although going to school seems like hard work, it's really not. Going to work is much worse. If you think having me boss you around is bad, just wait until you are making minimum wage and having to take orders from someone who makes twice what you do and does half the work.
Sincerely,
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
I'm a new mommy... again.
As most of you probably already know, I just had a baby on May 14th, a perfect little girl that we named Grace. You also probably already know that I have a son as well, who will be 14 in August. I've had a lot of comments from people about how I "started over", I've also had people ask if I'm "crazy". The answer is no! Well... maybe a little.
The truth is that I thought I was crazy. Throughout my pregnancy I had many doubts about whether or not I was doing the right thing. I had a lot of demons from the past, (more on that later), I already had a child who I adored, and I had finally found the man that I loved and would spend the rest of my life with... why mess with a good thing? I didn't have an answer... but I do now.
You mess with a good thing because sometimes you can be even happier. It took less than 10 seconds after my daughter was born for me to know that I made the right choice. I fell completely head over heels in love with her immediately. SHE is what I have been missing.
I have a lot of regrets from my younger years, specifically in regards to my son. I was young when he was born... only 4 years older than he is now. I knew nothing, but of course I thought I knew it all. I loved him from the start, but because of my age and lack of maturity I didn't love him as well as I could have. That is not an excuse, but it is the truth. I missed so much. I was there for the "milestones", I watched him crawl for the first time, and take his first steps, and I heard his first words, but I didn't realize all the little things that I was missing. I was too busy being selfish and wanting to hold onto my youth to realize that I could hang out with my friends anytime, but the precious moments with my son would be something that I would lose forever.
Every day of my daughters life there have been moments that I have been lucky enough to witness. She's not old enough to be walking or talking, but there are expressions on her face, noises that she makes, moments where she sighs in her sleep while I'm holding her, all things that I took for granted the first time around. I won't make that mistake again.
I'm so much better at being a mother this time around and that gives me mixed emotions. On one hand I feel so lucky to get to be Graces mommy, and on the other hand I feel like my son got the short end of the stick. In reality, he doesn't remember that I was gone a lot of the time, but I remember and that's bad enough. The bright side is that I've learned from it and I'm now taking the time to enjoy the little moments in his life too. He's been walking and talking for years, but I can still enjoy the smiles and the excitement when something good happens to him. I can still walk in his room at night and see how peaceful he is when he's sleeping, and most importantly I can still make sure that every day BOTH of my children know that their Mom loves them more than anything in the world.
I have no idea what I'm doing...
I have no idea what I'm doing starting a blog. I guess it stems from random thoughts that I have while updating my facebook status but not having enough characters to properly express them.
I can't promise that this will be very interesting, or that my grammar and spelling will be correct, and I definitely can't promise that you'll agree with everything that I say. That being said, this could be fun or it could get me in trouble... maybe both!
Anyway, thanks for at least checking it out!
I can't promise that this will be very interesting, or that my grammar and spelling will be correct, and I definitely can't promise that you'll agree with everything that I say. That being said, this could be fun or it could get me in trouble... maybe both!
Anyway, thanks for at least checking it out!
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