I love

1. Photography. I couldn't take a great picture if my life depended on it. But I see pictures all around me. On my drive to work I can pick out snapshots. I do the same thing when I watch the three of you do your thang. I see the art in you and in the world around us but I can never transfer that into anything anyone else can see. So I greatly admire those who can.

2. To hear happy laughter. Not just the obligatory kind where you know you're supposed to find something funny, but you don't. But the type you can't hold back even though you try. The type that busts out of you no matter how hard you try to keep it under wraps. I can't get enough of that even when it occurs at odd hours when I'm trying to sleep and I grumpily tell you to knock it off. I have a secret, I'm always smiling when I go back to bed.

3. Reading. I read and re-read books. Chrissy says that I torture them by dog-earing the pages and I always apologize and then dog-ear again when nobody's looking. I love books, but I dog-ear every single one of them. Maybe it's like leaving my mark in the world only I should find a more positive expression I suppose. It's better than leaving my mark the way grandma's fat cat did though...even if only slightly.

4. Autumn. I love the smell, the feel of the air, all of the holidays lumped together like they are. I love the impending togetherness. It's a wonder I didn't learn to cook in order to keep you all coming back once you grow up. I should've thought ahead. Maybe you'll come back for pizza.....burgers? nachos? damn.

5. Saturdays. Sleep in, stay up late, an entire day to do whatever you want whenever you want? What's not to like about that?

6. My husband. I would say "your dad" but you have two between the three of you so it's not entirely accurate. He's really good to me and he's a great example for you all. He loves you so much. He loves me so much. He's not perfect, but he's perfect for me. One day you'll see that he was perfect for you too. I think you know it now but since he sometimes overrides your fun buttons you don't see him for what he's doing for your future. Where I see the now, he sees tomorrow and together we seem to have it covered.

7. You. I didn't leave you till last because you come last. You're at the end because all things lead to you. I love the uniqueness of each one of you. I wouldn't change you for anything. I feel blessed every day, even on my cranky days...even on your cranky days. I know you don't belong to me and I try every day to treat you like the gifts I know you are.

One of many lies

It's the lie we tell ourselves as parents and the lie we tell other parents and the lie we tell our children. We're raising you to be independent. But none of us is an island. Humans weren't meant to stand alone. Perhaps nobody explained the true meaning of the idea to me...independence. But I see it as needing nobody, being self-reliant.

I want that, to a certain extent, for each of you. But the more I cruise the internet and read into other people's lives the more I do not want you feeling the isolation that seems so rampant out there. It's like an epidemic. It knows no social class, no ethnicity, no age and no gender. Sure I want you to know how to sort laundry, cook hamburger helper and pay your bills. But you shouldn't think that once you hit 18 you're on your own with EVERYTHING. I want you to have a job. I want you to strive for a skill of some kind...a skill that means something to you. I want you to set goals for your life and your future. I want you to have dreams and experience change. But no one should grieve or falter alone. No one should feel lost or lonely. No one. That's not independence and anyone who thinks it is is just looking for a reason to bail on you.

I'm not going to bail. So by all means get out there while you still have the drive and the energy to see it all. Come home anytime. Start over as often as you want. You'll be doing the cooking, cleaning and laundry when you do...just remember that.

Love,
Mom

Rest

Oh my. There's so much in this life that I wish I could prepare you adequately for. I want so badly to be able to lay it out for you succinctly and give you an accurate picture, one you will not only be able to recognize coming but navigate through and come out the other side victorious. I'm asking a lot of both of us aren't I? I have to realize that's not only an incredibly high expectation of myself but of you too. Not only am I expecting me to be able to narrow all of life's twists and turns into concise blog-bites or moments of time that occur after school yet before bedtime, but I'm also expecting that you'll be able to understand how the world works to such a degree that you'll grasp it all so much better than it's ever been grasped before. I smile thinking of you in that way. So much better at life than the rest of us. But you're not my loves. Hey, don't frown that wasn't a put down. It was meant to take some of the pressure off actually. There must be enormous pressure behind the expectation of perfection. I don't want that put on you and certainly not put on you by me. So you aren't going to grasp the intricacies of life through this blog or even through conversations with me. It's not going to save you from the pain of living and making choices and from living with the consequences of how life changes after those choices. What I hope it does however is offer you an oasis....a retreat from the storm. A place where you know that you're not alone. You don't have to have the answers. You don't have know it all. You don't have to be strong any longer than is absolutely necessary.

Come.

Sit down and rest. We could both probably use it.

Mood swings....yours and mine

Leave it to me to give birth to moody children. You can blame me. I don't mind. It's not easy being moody though. Emotions come and go before you even have the chance to identify them. Eventually you wind up in a funk that's indescribable and untraceable.

One of you is angry at me right this second. Our moods clashed. I apologized but you would have none of it. I thought you should apologize too (purposefully ignoring someone when they ask you something is rude, I stand by that statement), but you didn't. We seem to be at an impass.

*sigh*

Navigating these emotional tides will be some of the most difficult work I do in this life.

It's not easy being moody.

Why I am the Parent I am

You know, I have no idea if this is going to be a serious post or a humorous post so I hope whatever shock I dispense isn't something you're unable to get over. Because that would be sad and god knows there's just too much of that in the world already.

First, let me tell you about my parents. You know that Dad died when you boys were relatively little, though you still have little memories here and there. For Chrissy she was allowed 5 more years than you Trevor and 8 more than Jack, so her understanding of him as a person and grandpa is a little more detailed. My Mom to be honest never let anyone close unless she had use for them. I know that may seem like an unkind thing to say, but I didn't make the rules she chose to live by. I know I wish I could've changed that part of her as much as you might now. For reasons I'll never understand, it just wasn't meant to be. I choose to use that description in order to tell you that she chose not to include you boys in her life because I think at the time you two were born she had become completely incapable of doing so. It took me a long time to figure out how to protect you from her rejection and I hope I have not failed you too much with my decisions.

And that is why I'm writing this. I love/loved my Dad so much and while he wasn't a "talk your heart out" type of person, he was always gentle, always kind and loved me and my brothers as if we were his own. I loved my Mom but was never allowed to get close to her. She was uncomfortable sharing her life with me and I don't know why. Perhaps it was generational meaning that nobody raised during the late 40's, early 50's was raised expressing their feelings or talking about their problems with anyone. Having not lived then I can't be sure of that, but it's an idea I've given some thought to.

I must've been born a person with the need to talk (by now you all know you take after me in that area, I think we could talk paint off the side of a building LOL). Growing up I had nobody to talk to. I felt isolated even though I was part of a family of 5 and had parents who constantly showered gifts on me. I would've traded every single one of those gifts in half a heartbeat if I could've had one honest, heart-to-heart conversation with my Mother. I don't include my Dad in this only because what I was seeking was confirmation that I was a normal girl. I knew Dad loved me regardless but I wanted to know how to go about being me and part of being me was being a girl.

You know I was adopted when I was 7 so I had no real female role models before then and once I got one, she couldn't help me. There were things about life in general that I didn't like because in my mind they were tied to abuse from when I was very young, before grandma and grandpa. I've talked about some of this with each of you as you've asked and at a level that matched your age. So it's not news to you. Growing up I wasn't sure if my dislike of all things domestic was okay or not. I always did the housework whether I liked it or not and Mom and Dad as well as earlier foster parents never did any. So I have no idea if that is how it's done or should be done. I don't know a lot actually and I hope that doesn't scare you too much. Being at the mercy of a parent who admits they have no clue and are simply going by gut feeling probably isn't what you wanted to hear. I could be contributing to your therapy fund after all.

I'm making up my parenting technique as I go along and it's not only because of the examples I was raised with. I also had no idea what parenting at these various stages of your development would be like. I knew better than to expect any of you to be "like" either your fathers or me. So I understood I was raising a completely new person. Each time. So I understood the need for flexibility. But have you ever been told by a teacher or maybe even us to "just be flexible" and you're thinking...."what in the world does that mean???"? Well, me too. There are so many ways to be flexible, what way is needed at each given moment based on what each of you has experienced and the choices you've made?

I wonder if other parents have these answers. I wonder if the ones raised with distinct roles and active parents know whether they will choose parts of how they were raised and then work in their own style. I wonder because I don't have the option of choosing parts of how I was raised because I was financially supported but that's as far as it went. I never went without things, but I never received the guidance, the history, the complete acceptance that who I was becoming was okay.

I'm not writing this to scare you. I remember like it was yesterday the uncertainties of growing up and learning how to make choices because they each seemed like they had the ability to change everything. And growing up, you're not sure you're even supposed to be changing your life...I mean is that okay?...will it make someone mad?...what do the people you love expect from you?....you don't like disappointing them...and god knows if you do something that changes your life in a way they don't like, you'll feel awful? Am I close? Do you ever think any of those things? Because if I'm determined to be honest with you I have to say I always did and still do to some extent. The main difference is that I'm now making choices for YOUR lives. So instead of just worrying about my choices impacting my future, I worry about them impacting yours. More than anything I want to give you a firm foundation from which to emerge into a world where you're prepared and confident in who you are and the choices you make. So each choice I make before you've even got the ability to understand it's impact, does in fact lay that groundwork.

My fear? That I don't have the right history, training or understanding to do this right. I can't use my past for anything more than a long list of "What Not To Do". But even when you've narrowed those down, the sheer volume of better options is staggering. It's not always 50/50; by getting rid of a bad option you don't automatically face the remaing good option. Oh how I wish it were so!

I don't know how a Mom is supposed to be. I only know the kind I don't want to be and the kind I am able to be. As much as my Mom did wrong by choice I have come to the understanding now that they weren't individual choices. My Mom didn't choose the wrong option everytime something came up, it was much simpler than that. She chose fear. For reasons I may never know, she ran from an intimate and bonding relationship with me and with you. After more than 20 years I ran out of ways to try to fix that. And to keep in accordance with what I tell you all, it simply wasn't and isn't my place to change her or anyone else, just like it's not your place to change those around you. We all have ultimate responsibility to and for ourselves. Growing up, as a child, people come and go from your life a lot: new teachers, new friends, new schools, new neibhorhoods. Your parents are the constants (or they should be). But as parents, raising kids, you don't stop growing and learning because you've reached adulthood. We don't graduate from childhood with the ability to parent. And as often as I've thought maybe some of us should have, I know how impossible that would be considering we have no idea what the personality of the child or children we're blessed with will need beforehand. We each do what we can. Some parents may have too much fear to move completely into parenthood from childhood and instead of choosing honesty communication and acceptance, choose to hide as much as possible hoping not to ever need to relive whatever burdens they carry.

I no longer blame my Mom for failing me because I now know that she was simply unable to provide what I needed and couldn't let go of her fears of the past long enough to see to our future. I am writing this because I don't want to fail you...any of you. I try very hard to be there for you but already know I have failed to meet every circumstance. I can't do it all, everyday for everyone. And while I hope this is normal or at least understandable by you three, I will never really know if I've missed on something important unless you tell me. And I'll never be able to take it back though I can express my regrets. I know disappointment is a fact of life that every person must come to grips with and learn how to function in spite of. But I also know about total, all-encompassing disappointment..the kind that affects everything from the mundane to the life-altering. I never want to disappoint in a way that would scar you the way I was. Some things are unavoidable and it's those that while upsetting will still happen in our lives together as there's no help for it and I don't think there should be. As I said, the world is full of them and I don't think I'd be any kind of parent if I insisted on protecting you from your own future.

Anyway, I hope this one day helps you to understand that should I fail you in a way that scars you...that was not my intent. Every day I wake up with the knowledge that you are each a gift to me and hope my energy and patience last long enough to bring something loving to you. I don't know how important it will be to any of you to hear "I'm sorry" when I make mistakes. I say it because I want you to understand that mistakes aren't just for kids. I also say it because I wanted really badly to hear that from my own Mom. She couldn't and that's okay now. From that I learned that it was a message I wanted to pass on. So you will notice I have no fear of telling you I've messed up and asking your forgiveness. I simply hope that is sufficient. Because in raising you, I'm doing the best I can with the life I've been given and have made for myself.

Let it be enough.

Things about me that while you most likely already know them, by admitting them publically I hope to make them appear less bad

aka "How Mommy Rationalizes Her Faults"

*ahem*

1. I don't cook. Wow-oh-wow how true this is. It's not that I think it's below me. OHMYGOD that's so not it. It's more like I value your health so much as to not take years off your precious lives by forcing you to ingest things that while only slightly more digestable than play-doh, do not have near as much taste. "I don't do it for the children", as the case may be. I know now that you're visiting other people's homes the liklihood of even half of those Moms being "normal" is pretty good. So the time will soon be upon us where you may confuse me for a "Dad" and want to see my "burrito". I'm writing this in hopes of heading that one off at the pass. (There's nothing to see here folks....move along.) But you know...I have fantasies where I take a cooking course and find out I'm a brilliant chef I just needed to believe in myself! You'll just have to trust me when I say that the moment was/is beautiful. I replay it often and there is never a moment in any of my fantasizing where your father laughs at me as I know he is now as he reads this. (HEY! I HAVE A HEART YA KNOW...WITH FEELINGS AND WHATEVER!) Eh. Anyway...good thing it doesn't really mean all that much to me. Maybe in a past life I was horribly burned in a cooking accident. ohmygod...was that too graphic for a Mom to write to her kids??????

Which oddly enough brings me gracefully into my #2 (heh I said "#2"...go ahead laugh...I'll wait.........)...

...

...done yet? (ME NEITHER! LOLOLOLOLOL)

*whew* okay now ...*snicker* I'm nearly...*hick*....OOOOKAAAAay ready! Where was I?

Oh yes...

2. I'm oftentimes inappropriate. Now before you start dialing CPS let me explain (gee, I can certainly tell where you got your patience! hint: it's the parent with the "burrito"). It's not the jail-time sort of inappropriate although I've been watching a lot of the History Channel and National Geographic and did you know that there's an old man who's going to jail for 7 years just for talking trash about the ruler of his country? If I had to go to jail for everytime I've talked trash I think your great-grandchildren's great-grandchildren would still be paying the debt. In other words, not only do I often say what I think - I also fail to filter it through the more rational parts of my brain beforehand. Sure it's inconvenient sometimes (more for others than for myself seeing as I don't think I have a soul. Wait...was that too much to admit here too? DAMN!) Anyway. Yeah so it's an inconvenience to others blahblahblah...oh yeah! And it's a minimum 7-year jail term in other countries. So that's harsh. Now that I've learned that tidbit though, I like to think that I'm thoroughly partaking of and enjoying the freedoms of this great land of ours not just for myself, but for all of the people of the world. Or at least those who I only assume wish they could in the unholy, sarcastic, irreverent and tacky way I do. Oh and now is probably not the time for me to stress how you should respect your elders and use your manners huh? How 'bout I leave that to your Dad (THANKS DAD!)...he's all stern like and serious and whatnot.

Okay maybe I won't show this website to you boys until you're no longer my responsibility (ie you can pay your own bail). I'm really no kind of positive influence. Good thing I've managed to exchange the number for CPS with the number for Pizza Hut in all of our phone books, huh!? Course, I pity the poor guy or girl who answers your call expecting just another greedy order for something cheesy that's family sized. They won't know what button to push for "my Mom embarasses me".

You know, this is getting long. I truly had no idea my faults...er...."special circumstances" were so huge. Here I've always thought of them as quirks or character bumps when in truth they're more like parental seizures or ulcerated personality boils.

okay yeah...this blog will remain secret until you also have to pay your own therapy bills.

Love,
Mom

p.s. Seeing as item #2 has already prepared you for this part of me, I think I'll continue this in segments...you know....like dividing up lunch and recess or breakfast/lunch/dinner....

or compensatory and punitive damages (I'll let your therapist explain that one)

Because I remembered.

Dad took me out for our anniversary one year. Not that he's only done it's once or anything, but this one I remember for two reasons: 1) we really didn't have the money for such an expensive restaurant and 2) we took you two boys with us as we didn't have money for both a babysitter AND a hoity toity restaurant.

So we're seated at a nice table in the dimly lit main dining room. I have to swiftly usher the candle from your easy grasp before you're able to set your sights too keenly on it. I've learned, a brief glimpse is fine but I better not give you any time to ponder the possibilities or a stick of dynamite wouldn't detour you from your goal. Most days I think your goal is chaos of any and all denominations, so really, why would I feed into that? Just more work for me.

At any rate, I swift away the fire (to hell with ambiance) and softly hum to the musak wafting by us between breaths of mouth-watering foodly noises and peruse the menu. My humming takes on the edge of hysteria as a sea of prices slam repeatedly into my conscience ("we shouldn't be here", "this is way too high", "I could feed the monsters....um...sweet curious boys for 2 weeks on this")ad nauseum. But after a glass (or was it 2?) of wine I'm much more receptive to their playful price gouging and begin to place our order.

But there's something wrong. It's subtle but palpable. It's not a smell...no those are never subtle in our lives. No this is not eminating from us though it involves us. I look around. Nobody appears to be on fire or otherwise interested even remotely in any of us, but still it lingers...the wrongness. I venture a glance up at our waiter's face and get my answer. He looks....peculiar...part disgusted and part amused...or is that fear? Whatever. I follow his gaze which lands squarely on the two of you. One of you is busily eating which surprises me as we have yet to order. The other is giggling softly over something you're attempting to hide behind your hands...how cute. Cute until I pull your hands away and find one blue and one green crayola nearly half-way lost in both nostrils. The mommy in me chooses that exact moment to register the facts surrounding your brother's monster-like smacking yum-yum noises and if he didn't get his food from on TOP of the table then he must have........OH DEAR GOD!

Somehow I managed to order dinner, dislodge and dispose of the crayolas as well as swipe your brother's poor choice in appetizers without showing even 1/3 of the anxiety I felt. I bet I made it look flawless. At least that's how it exists in my memory and if your father doesn't ruin that by divulging that I in fact shrieked hysterically and mumbled a thousand apologies in under 5 seconds, that's how it will exist for all time. Especially now that I've made it permanent and available on the world wide web.

I have no idea what we ate, but I know the bill was over $80 and I wondered for months if it had been worth it. I now know that it was, if only for the memory of perfectly imperfect parenthood. The memory alone is worth the tab, though I'll admit it took the distance of time to come to that conclusion. And you may wonder why I bring this up now...when you're both too cool to put things in your nose or eat off of the floor (well, for ONE of you that's true). The title says it all.

Love,
Mom

Lessons I could teach you

1. Don't take your medicine on an empty tummy. Trust me when I say it's just not nearly as fun as it may sound to sit behind your desk (either at work or at school as I'm sure the location of the desk doesn't detract from the lesson in any way) actively resisting the urge to vomit. In fact, resisting the urge so much that you get hiccups and not the friendly kind but the ones that taunt you with the possibility of that which you don't want to do...namely heaving.

*bleck*

2. Don't make eye contact with anyone unless you want to talk to them. This comes from great experience and to my credit actually works. Well, it either works or I've been rudely ducking people for months now. I guess under either scenario I wouldn't have the burden of talking to them though so I suppose this lesson is one you can take either way. Or whatever.

3. Only attempt to nap in clean bathroom stalls. And trust me when I say that it doesn't matter how fatigued you might be...the truth of this is undeniable. (go ahead...being my children I know you must try it in order to believe in it so I'll wait.)

...

...

ew! Now you see? It doesn't matter how tired you are, you will emerge from said stall with far more problems than you went in there with if you fail to check the quality of the layout before planting yourself for a snooze. I'm still somewhat haunted by what I saw during this morning's attempted naptime. Good Lord did it used to be a slaughterhouse and nobody told me? Or maybe NASA scientists are busy growing things they found in space and ran out of room at the main lab. Whatever the case, I just have to say that I found it quite eerie when the spongey stalagmites maneuvered in such a way as to spell out my name. *shudder* As much as I know it's not good to hold it for too long, I also know it's not good to cop a squat over The River Stixx. So I'll take bladder distention for $200 Alex!

4. Have fun. Yes, I know that directly contradicts what I said this morning about eating breakfast, getting dressed, taking medicine and brushing your teeth: none of which is even remotely fun if done properly. But life outside our home is just SOOOOOO serious. Full of serious people busy being serious with their seriousness. No humor whatsoever. So even though it's imperative that both the medicine AND the food end up inside of your body and that you take full responsibility for any and all messes ensueing from the execution thereof...enjoy the rest of the time. Play till you can't play anymore and forget about what anyone thinks about you. Let whatever other kids say roll off your back because they probably live with someone who's way more serious than your parents are so the growth of their humor bone has been severely stunted. Basically, they're just as disabled as anyone who qualifies for the Special Olympics and if my experience with the same is at all accurate...they're far more disabled. I've noticed that those people who usually get stuck with that label don't actually warrant it nearly as much as the so called "normals". But that's another post.

Have fun. Today only happens once.

Love,
Mom

Well, they won't do themselves...(UPDATED)

this was previously a nice tidy To-Do list that consisted mostly of various ways to do nothing AND sleep. But even the list got lazy and refused to show up.

Heh.

How's that for divine approval?

Little Things

During the course of any given day I think of about 20 things I want to talk to you about. Even with this blog I don't seem to find all the time I was hoping for, but it's better than nothing. So I try.

I'm not a gifted writer. I think you should know this because one day one of you might be and I don't want you to gauge your success or gift by what you see here. If you become a talented, award-winning writer...you didn't get it from me. So I guess I write not because I'm good at it but because I have something to say to you and I don't want to forget it. There are things I want to preserve for you (or maybe for me?). I want you to have a history.

I don't have people in my life who can tell me stories of my childhood. Your father comes pretty close as he's known me since I was 7. I feel like I've already let so many memories slip by thinking that I'd catch the next one or that perhaps the event was so impressive I would never forget it. Time is cruel that way. It tends to make you overconfident. Because I have forgotten a lot...too much really.

Jack, today you wanted me to just "write a check" (you love that phrase) so you could buy things from your school's book fair. Normally this isn't a big deal. I'll buy you things at the drop of a hat, much to your Dad's dismay. But I tend to be crankier in the mornings and this morning I wanted to know what it was I was getting ready to buy you. You had a wish list even and yet when I asked you couldn't tell me what any of the items on your list were or how they operated. So I had to tell you "no". You have a tendency to enjoy toys (um...duh!) but I don't really know if you just like toys or like spending money on toys. Gosh, I hope it's not the latter...that'll make life very tedious for you later on. So, no toys-of-which-you-have-no-explanation for you. Figure it out, do your homework and then we'll talk okay?

Trevor, I told you "no" this morning too even though you actually wanted books from the book fair. But I told you "no" not because I thought you didn't know what you were getting. I declined because I would rather go with you on family night and see what's available together. Time is growing short for you to continue enjoying having me and your Dad show up with you at various functions. Eventually you're going to be too cool for us and we'll have to loosen the reigns a bit and let you do things like that on your own. So if I can buy a few more moments with you where you aren't embarassed to be seen with your parents...well, I'm going to take it. I just hope my selfishness doesn't cost you those two books you were wanting. Surely they'll still be there.....right?

Chrissy, I love that I was right about your sickness even though I hate that you've been miserable all week. I hope by now your sinus infection is well under control and you're perking right up. But next time your Dad says anything about me being right...do me a favor and ask him to repeat it while you record it on your phone. It would make a wicked ring tone for me. LOL

All my love,
Mom

Dear Child,

I got this briliant idea today. Well, I thought it was brilliant anyway. I've decided to write letters to you on the internet. I think that should earn me a "Pimp Level" of at least 5. It's the internet for goodness sake!

Anyway, you all seem to be really enjoying computers and getting online...downloading things and whatnot. So much so, in fact, that you scarcely look up when I pass. So no more raising my voice or talking in an accent or waving my hand in front of your face to get your attention.

I've decided to meet you here instead. This will be a little different than a traditional letter. You'll be able to write back to me without me having to pay for postage and I'm hoping it will feel more like we're having a conversation and less like you're just being talked to.

OH and while you're here and all, can we talk about the eye-rolling? I mean, I'll stop if you will!

Love,
Mom