Those were the days...

There was a time I giggled and played. So naive and innocent-like. The ways of my world were creative and plentiful. No friend too-true. No love too-real. Every emotion felt with every fiber of your being. Every cell in your heart believed, loved, trusted. But of course, as naive goes, taking a left turn before the hurricane often subsides to impulse. Life is grand. The world is your oyster. If someone had told me not to keep going straight, how would this all be different? Pushing on is a great defense. Plugging away to make it to the promise land. Well, is this the life?
In this life I live I am told that I am wrong everyday. Fighting the impulse to prove it incorrect, I wait for the time when everyone figures out that I was right afterall. Sailing through the days. Weaving between obstacles. My secret weapon is my heart. Facing dangers and battling influences. Remembering the days of living more carelessly. When everything didn't matter so much. Today and the first half of tomorrow were all that was on the horizon. Drinking dinner and pouring breakfast from a box. Those were the days.

Prior to school-age, we had so much fun. Living our summers like hippies. Running around in bathing suits, little boy undies, still wet from lake water. Mid-afternoon paddles on long boards in an ocean too flat to surf. Kids learning to walk so they could run through the sprinkler...potty training in the back yard...Yes. I remember how I was. So free to think. To just love my boys. Lathering on suntan oil as the little balls of giggles dug in the sand box was the most peaceful feeling I recall of our summers. Roasting myself in the heat and soaking in the rest. This was all before they learned to argue. Aaaahhh those were the days...

Somewhere along the line, life got serious. Maybe a wrong right turn, or a missed stop. I probably should have stopped and asked for directions somewhere a few years back. In lieu of the current crisis, I am reminded that this is a test. Perseverance is my other middle name. Days flashing before my eyes, I take notes for the next test. Wait! Stop!! Hold-On! Can I please just slow down!? The brake is on the left right? Or was it on the right? This is about the time I wake up. Reminding myself: "This is the work part of my life." Making future-altering decisions daily. Planning for the seemingly unobtainable future. I use to be waaayyy more fun. Yep...those were the days!

Last night we went to dinner for my dad's birthday. Amongst the attendees were nay-sayers and negative forces in my life. I was the one that knew the correct chronological age that he was. His actual years were demonstrated after the dinner! Situation being what it was, there was not a lot of room in our bank account for extravagance. So, I chose to for-go my usual with a hearty glass of red wine. Petite Syrah to be exact. I have never done that. It felt good. Generally I am the one driving home...oooo fun. The attendees passed around the baby. My middle son roamed freely before settling in with a friend to color on napkins. I figured out how to breath in public again. It's been a while. Welcome back! Last night was the night.

Whatever tomorrow has to bring I will wait and see. It's out of my control, so I will stop trying to be so damn perfect and lovely and perky and tame. With the sunroof open and whistling wind, I will not pin up my hair nor will I speak what I should say. However, I will speak the words which first hit my tongue and smile like the wild spirit I am. For today is just here as part of my way to tell all the people to just go away. Leave me be. I have what I need. Living on hugs and kisses, giggles and smiles makes my heart dance and this hair fly in the wind! So, when you think to correct me or interject when I speak, just remember I don't mind if I seem wrong or politically incorrect. I am what I am. Leave it that way.

This is the Life!!!

Standing in front of the washing machine this morning, I found myself staring at the water for a moment. Catching myself in a space far away from the kids arguing and dirty kitty litter boxes. Yeah, I was there...warm beach, light breeze, anything not kid friendly to drink. Pondering on the word agitator. Agitation. Ironic eh!? The action alone resembles my life. Symbolic of people past and present and even some irrelevant souls. Reality sets in as I grab a towel and wipe down the edges of the washing machine, the cracks and top. Gotta be thorough! Does this really even matter? Somebodies gotta do it right? Just then, my eight year-old runs into me and yells "Mommy! Look! Look!" yes, he had his fingers poking his eyebrows up and crossed eyes. Really. I could feel the urgency. What is it with everybody running into me anyway? I will get to that later.

Agitate. to shake, set in motion; to stir violently; to disturb, excite-to keep up with the discussion of, especially with a view to reform.

Agitator. one who stirs or keeps up a public agitation. (pg. 9, Webster's Dictionary)

I feel like a washing machine most days. Disturbed and stirred violently. The laundromat. A one-machine wonder. Capable of superhuman solving! Deep in my gut...goosh-goosh-goosh...the mess of the day. Bits of chores that only I can handle and pieces of emotional matter to be sorted. Everyone inserting their dirty laundry and expecting a glistening turn of events in no time at all. Meanwhile, playing without a care in the world. Oh no! My dirty laundry is still in the hamper!

Finally finding my feet, humming around the house. The beat of my soul, goosh-goosh-goosh...accomplishment is a sweet melody. I find myself shooshing the occupants of my house so I can complete the thought I am processing, or the task I am completing or just because I am no longer accepting requests. Sure, they hate this. I really don't care. There are a thousand unfinished duties under this roof. Goosh-goosh-goosh...I wish I had on head phones! Struggling to remember every word of that song I heard yesterday...egh...the beat will work for now!

Don't get me wrong. It is only on occasion that I shoosh the little angels whom I shared DNA with. More often my husband. Agitator:A. He has yet to understand that he too has an agitator. It must be in the shop or buried under the pile of junk in the corner. What the heck? How does this stuff happen? Interrogating my family has led me to believe we have another child living with us...or possibly a grown man...we named him Dave Ming-Chang. He is really messy. Leaving socks behind the couch and losing my damn scissors and nail clippers...drinking the last of the milk and thoughtfully leaving the jug, lid on, for me to rinse and recycle.

There was a time I was perfect. You know, those moms that have perfect houses, makeup on and hair done every time you see them, always smiley and seem so rested. Okay, I was never perfect. Sorry to ruin the story. I tried hard. Holding myself to the standard imposed upon me at birth. When did this become my own? I don't own this! As women, and mothers, we all have this idea of perfection. Inflicted by men. Of course men can easily preach of this belief because they can't let us know what the left hand is doing as long as the right hand is making us a to-do list. My husband is great about helping when he is in the mood. I am lucky he has the mood. But know that when I am faced with the question "why isn't ____ finished?" I just say "I wasn't in the mood". It's my empowerment to choose my tasks. Yeah it's a bit awnry, but fun just the same! There's a huge weight of oppression on women in society. Shall we be excellent housekeepers or mothers? I choose the latter.

Rushing our kids out the door to school two minutes too late...and the mortified thought of walking into school with pj pants on...yeah. You know those moms. What kind of pills do they take to get their mouth that shape? Oh, it's just a smile huh? Yeah. That's on my list. Goosh-goosh-goosh! So, here's to my dad next time he points out that I have pizza sauce on my wall: grab a towel! To my husband next time he wants to make menial tasks my priority: Work it out! For the other moms that point out my imperfections: My shoes...good luck filling them! Shall I keep going?

On that note...I should stop. Don't want to be vulnerable to the power of agitation!

In my pursuit of a silly, giggly good time, I am not ending this to wash dishes. I am going to go tackle my rotten boys with tickles.

This is the life!

4am

4am is the hour of innocence. Laying wrapped in blankets with my eight year old. Waiting for the next bolt of lightning. FLASH!!! One-one-thousand, two-One-thousand...CRASH! GRUMBLE! CRASH!! I smile in the dark once again, and wait for the next flash...my arms wrapped around him so tight. The sheer anticipation is so exciting. At about four am, my son climbed into bed with us. Something about a dream or something. I just cover him up and head back to slumber. My husband doesn't understand this, but this is just what we do. Anyway, just then we hear the loudest thunder crash over the ocean about a block from our house. My son was so scared. I love it so much. So, I reassured him by teaching him to count after you see the flash of lightning. I'm unaware if there is any scientific significance, but we enjoy the belief that each second counts as one mile. Meaning that 3 seconds in between lightning and thunder means that it is three miles away. Pretty soon, I was no longer counting. The enjoyment of listening at this point was too much. As he counted and realized that 20 seconds meant that the thunder was over now, he grabbed my hand and said "good night mamma".

So what if I lost some sleep. So what if my husband rolls away from me. Screw all of the people that say I'm damaging my kids by letting them into my bed. They are only little for so long. I am going to let them come into my bed for as long as they still want to. I gained a lifelong memory. Some of the best memories I have from the past ten years are in the wee hours of the morning. There is such serenity at night. The time of night that you hear the ocean roaring and the wind whistle through the trees outside. No traffic, talking or television. Nobody bothers me then. Whether it's snuggling a sick kid or nursing a baby, count me in.

Mid morning I was making breakfast in the kitchen. The kids were stooped by the window whispering to each other. It's not so often these days that they get along! Eavesdropping is an act I would recommend to all parents. They had heard the thunder and were trying to see the lightning during in the daylight. Awesome! I just walked away and let them continue. These are precious moments.

My words to pass on...let yourself just enjoy your kids. I know how easy it is to tell them to get in their own bed or that you're too busy to read with them. I have been there. I was a single mother, working 60+ hours a week and still coaching sports and over committing myself to everything. It is common for parents to get caught up in their own lives. I urge you to get silly today. Just turn up the music and sing badly at the top of your voice. Your kids will gain strength of character from this and not worry so much about what others think of them. Some of the best memories are made unintentionally.

What a Wonderful Life...

As I rock my baby to sleep to the rhythms only he and I hear, my mind wanders through the memories of the past ten years. Jumping from one to the other like a frog on Lily Pads. I expected I would be single forever with my two boys. It did not bother me. They were always my priority, through a litter of failed attempts at a functional relationship. Had I reached a point where I was happiest? I am a better mom than I am a wife.

When I decided to let my now husband date me, I had spent the prior few months dodging his questions, and obviously not convincing him that I was not a great candidate. How did I get here!? Speaking to some of my old friends, they can't believe I got married...have a new baby...minus the white picket fence. My husband is wonderful. Being married is more challenging than I anticipated. The fruit is my baby. It is interesting...starting over. Well, that's what everyone else calls it.

Finally Van was asleep. I could put him in his bed. But, he's melted into my chest. Breathing into the nape of my neck. Ecstasy. So, the decision to just put up my feet, rest into the rocking chair and fall asleep was the best.

What a wonderful life...

Oh the life of a mommy...

Sitting cross legged on the living room floor, my boys are shooting the breeze and giggling and carrying on so innocently. Not competing, not arguing. These moments are few and far between. The focus of the evening has turned to sewing. You read it right. These boys are rough, tough, athletic boys. My younger of the two loves to delve into the miscellaneous fabrics, threads and needles of my sewing kit. It consists of random pieces and intentional projects. But tonight, these scraps were transformed into pillows for the baby. Their baby brother is almost seven months old. When they were babies, I sewed them each a pillow. Sure they have heard the story a few times, but tonight it became real.

The lessons of the evening were not of the perfection of a seam but the memories forged. I sit on the floor offering only encouragement. Sitting back and witnessing peace and innocence. Some days I wonder what has happened to my babies. Not tonight though. Can I steal these moments...reenact tomorrow...I know the answer. For tonight, we stayed up a couple of hours past bed time. Yes. Hold me guilty. I couldn't get enough. When they asked to go to bed, I knew I had done something right.

One of my most cherished memories happened just a couple of hours ago. I feel like the luckiest mommy.