30 Days of Truth: Day 4

Only Day 4? I thought I was almost done. Guess not.

Day 04- Something you have to forgive someone for.

Well, here's where the "truth" portion of this exercise goes out the window. The thing is, I am pretty forgiving, a peacemaker, and most unpleasantries I would honestly rather forgive and forget. But when I read this prompt something sprung to mind, something that might be unforgivable. I knew as soon as I thought it that I could never write it. It was too fresh, too close to home, and too horrific. And if you are thinking to yourself: "I'm pretty sure I know what she's referring to," you don't. I promise. That's all I have to say about that.

So. I have something else. Something that stings and probably always will.

We got to be friends as soon as I moved to town. You adopted me like a big brother, showed me the ropes, watched my back, encouraged me in my career and were a true friend. You made me laugh and gave me courage. I followed you around like a puppy and took your word as gospel. We started working in different venues, and as the years passed and I started to spread my own wings, we crossed paths less often, and drifted apart. But we ended every conversation with "Love you," and you were always on the top of my list of people to talk to when I had news.

I started to hear things about you: you were flaky. You weren't showing up for work. You were lazy. You were unreliable. This wasn't the you I knew, but it was true: I couldn't defend you from the facts. So I didn't.

Why didn't you tell me? How could I not have guessed? Why did I have to hear it from your partner? Of course you were sick. Of course you were. You had been positive for a LONG time. Since the 80's. Since that kind of thing was a death sentence. How did I not know this YEARS AGO? Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't I know? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?

Did you assume that I had put it together? That I didn't care enough to call and see what was going on? Because I do. I care. If I had known, I would have helped. I would have defended your name. I would have tried to take care of you like you took care of me when I was the new kid.

I love you. But now when I talk to you a part of me burns with regret. You lost your job. Because you were sick. You lost your insurance. Because you lost your job. You lost your partner of 20 years. Because you were depressed. Because everything collapsed. And I wasn't there for you. Because I didn't know.

I wish you would have let me be a better friend.

30 Days of Truth: Day 3

This was 30 WEEK days of truth, right? Oh. Well, Crap. Sorry. I'll try harder.

Day 03- Something you have to forgive yourself for.

Forgive me, little ones.

Forgive me for my moments of impatience, of short tempered annoyance, of frustration with you. For the moments I complained, wished for something other than exactly what I was living. For the moments I grumbled when I should have just sang you a little song. The times I was rough when I should have taken a deep breath. For the moments I cursed my post-baby body and set a terrible example of self-image. Forgive me for every moment I have ever taken you for granted.

Please forgive me for being hard on myself. For being human. I want you to know that it's ok to lose your temper sometimes. It's ok to be sad, and lonely, and flawed, and to have a pudgy belly, as long as there's a reason for it. Nobody's perfect. Mama is just a human being, at the end of the day, and she makes mistakes, just like you will, and she has emotions and struggles, just like you do. It's healthy for you to see it.

Then why does it keep me awake at night?

Forgive me, my little girls. And maybe some day I can forgive myself.

30 Days of Truth: Day 2

Day 02- Something you love about yourself.

"Inviting people to laugh with you while you are laughing at yourself is a good thing to do. You may be the fool, but you're the fool in charge." ~Carl Reiner

I love being able to make people laugh.

Even if they are laughing at me.

I don't mind laughing at myself a bit. I actually enjoy it, generally speaking. Guess I'm happy being the fool in charge. Sometimes it seems that my life, with all of its absurdities, lends itself particularly well to inviting other people to laugh at it.

There was a time, not so long ago, when I had a captive audience, stuck with me on headset 5 shows a day, and exchanging witty banter was our daily stimulation as we churned out show after mindless show. Our conversations ran the gamut, from current events, to philosophy and religion, to general ribbing of each other. We knew each other so well, this crew of 12, after years and years of chit chat and teasing, and we laughed all day. I didn't care if they laughed at me, I loved the attention, and the rush I got knowing I was causing other people to crack up. I loved being the "funny girl" on the crew.

Then I changed careers, and had a whole new captive audience: a room full of 5 year olds. Not to mention 7 other Kindergarten teachers, who alternately found me hysterical and wondered if I had perhaps been beamed down from another planet. I was not LIKE them. At ALL. But I was the funny one. And I relished it. My stories and observations had a new audience, and making my kids and colleagues laugh was my favorite part of that job.

I don't have much of an audience right now. The girls are too little to "get" much humor, and Dearest has pretty much heard my whole repartee. I hope that will change. I hope I make friends, and that I can make them laugh. I hope my kids find me funny, the same way I find my mom funny.

The laughter is the thing I miss the most about working, now that I think about it.

I love making people laugh.

30 Days of Truth:Day 1

Day 01- Something you hate about yourself.

I can't stand confrontation. It makes me physically queasy, like my stomach is aware of how weak I am, how terrible I am in an argument. I don't cry easily in most scenarios, but a face-to-face disagreement with someone leaves me immediately swallowing a lump in my throat and blinking back tears. For this reason, I rarely if ever "win" an argument, and I am very reluctant to stick up for myself if confrontation is going to be required. If I am served the wrong thing at a restaurant, I generally don't send it back. I feel panicked telling the mall kiosk people that I'm not interested in their wares. If a friend says something I disagree with, or treats me in a way I don't like, I am a thousand times more likely to distance myself from that person than to tell them what I'm bothered by. I hate that about me. I wish I could advocate for the little guy, stand up for myself, put my foot down when necessary. I recognize that it might be better for me and better for my relationships if I told people what I was thinking, even if that meant the possibility of a conflict. Unfortunately, I am simply not wired that way.

I can't stand confrontation. I hate that about myself.

30 Days of Truth

OK, in an effort to jump start my blogging, I'm going to give this meme a shot. I will try to answer each of these briefly, and honestly. Starting... tomorrow.

Day 01 → Something you hate about yourself.
Day 02 → Something you love about yourself.
Day 03 → Something you have to forgive yourself for.
Day 04 → Something you have to forgive someone for.
Day 05 → Something you hope to do in your life.
Day 06 → Something you hope you never have to do.
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living.
Day 08 → Someone who made your life hell, or treated you like shit.
Day 09 → Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.
Day 10 → Someone you need to let go, or wish you didn’t know.
Day 11 → Something people seem to compliment you the most on.
Day 12 → Something you never get compliments on.
Day 13 → A band or artist that has gotten you through some tough ass days. (write a letter.)
Day 14 → A hero that has let you down. (letter)
Day 15 → Something or someone you couldn’t live without, because you’ve tried living without it.
Day 16 → Someone or something you definitely could live without.
Day 17 → A book you’ve read that changed your views on something.
Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.
Day 19 → What do you think of religion? Or what do you think of politics?
Day 20 → Your views on drugs and alcohol.
Day 21 → (scenario) Your best friend is in a car accident and you two got into a fight an hour before. What do you do?
Day 22 → Something you wish you hadn’t done in your life.
Day 23 → Something you wish you had done in your life.
Day 24 → Make a playlist to someone, and explain why you chose all the songs. (Just post the titles and artists and letter)
Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.
Day 26 → Have you ever thought about giving up on life? If so, when and why?
Day 27 → What’s the best thing going for you right now?
Day 28 → What if you were pregnant or got someone pregnant, what would you do?
Day 29 → Something you hope to change about yourself. And why.
Day 30 → A letter to yourself, tell yourself EVERYTHING you love about yourself

THIS

is why The Bloggess is my hero.

Click me. You know you want to.

Not Babies Anymore

And then one day, just like that, they aren’t babies anymore. For me, the realization came one night while bathing the girls. Everyone was scrubbed, and I was singing my usual repertoire of eclectic musical selections that I end the bath with, when Sophie put her finger in her mouth. “Tee!” she exclaimed. “Yes, baby, that’s right! Teeth. Your teeth are in your mouth.” I replied. With more urgency, she pointed to her two tiny pearl-like teeth. “Tee!” That’s when I realized it. I had forgotten to brush their teeth. And Sophie hadn’t. And she was reminding me. My baby was reminding me to brush her teeth.

It happened that fast.

My babies grew up.

I know they are far from grown, I know parents of preschoolers, grade schoolers, adolescents, and young adults will scoff at my struggle to come to terms with my girls not being babies anymore. “Just wait,” I can hear you thinking, “Just wait.” But for me the girls have taken some huge steps lately (literally and symbolically) and I am still reeling from it.

Weaning came easy, fortunately, and as much as I wanted to do it, wanted my body back and for the kids to have a little bit more independence, it was still painful the first day that I did not nurse them at all. It was over—that symbiotic relationship, the feeling that they physically needed me in order to survive—it was over. Now when I am putting Liv down for the night, she no longer curls in to me in search for milk, she reaches out, away, grabbing for the bottle that she knows is on the nightstand next to the chair. It stings. But it had to happen.

Still, when I return after a couple of hours running errands (more on my ability to run errands without the kids later…), they come running (well, Liv comes running, Soph still walks kind of like she just got off a horse) and wrap themselves around my legs and grin up at me, I am reassured. They still need me. Just in a different way.