To be a reader

I am reader.  I have always been a reader and I will always be a reader.  I will always have full bookshelves, a Kindle in my desk drawer and a wish list of books a mile long.  

I remember the summer it all began, I don't remember the year but I remember it was summer and my sister Cindy had a good friend of her family who was a teacher. Cindy took me to her house to borrow some books.  It was then I met Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House in the Big Woods and I was a goner. I couldn't read that series enough. I read every book over and over and over again. I probably had them memorized. I went home the end of that summer to have my mom get me the whole set for my very own. I read them so many times I wore them out. The spines were cracked, pages were dog eared, and some even falling out.  I loved those books. 

Some Sunday mornings my mom and I would stop at the local bookstore and I'd be allowed to pick out 2 or 3 or 5 books for my very own. I read everything by Judy Blume and a few Beverley Cleary to V.C. Andrews and Danielle Steele and now Karen White, Patti Callahan Henry, Elin Hilderbrand, Robyn Carr, and so many more.  

We had a subscription to Reader's Digest once, I loved the day the new issue came in the mail. I'd read that little magazine from cover to cover, All in a Days Work, Humor In Uniform, the featured stories, every last bit.  My mom also subscribed to Guideposts which was another fave.  His Mysterious Ways was the best feature! Even a Parents magazine or Grandma Nollf's National Enquirer rag would do!  It seemed there were never enough words to be read. 

Somewhere around high school my appetite for books took a lull and I didn't read much until my early 20's.   Now I read about slavery, Civil Rights, the Holocaust, World War II, Vietnam, Ellis Island, Henry Ford, women's rights, The White House, John F. Kennedy and his assassination, things I never thought I'd have an interest in. But, I do.

I asked my husband once how he would describe me.  His answer was "well read".  I like being a reader.  I like knowing a little about a lot of topics.  I like getting lost in a book for an hour or 3.  Books kept me out of trouble, kept my mind sharp, kept some of the demons at bay.  I'm thankful I grew to be reader.  I hate to think what I would have been without. 

Thank you Betty James for introducing me to Laura Ingalls Wilder, encouraging me to read, read more and read often.  To you, I will always be grateful. 

Marriage (again)

This topic is probably the biggest, broadest most frustrating topic in all the land, well, this and parenthood.

It's an odd tradition to think about. Marriage. Take a minute - boy meets girl and there is this spark.  That's all.  It doesn't matter where they're from, what their backgrounds are, their opinions are or who their family is, there is just this undeniable magnetism, this force that pulls you together no matter the circumstances - some move across the country, across oceans to follow this spark.  Some leave their whole families behind - be it in disagreement or distance.  Some leave jobs, homes, sadly some even leave their children.  It's really something how all these changes arise from one spark.You just know you'll work all these things out...somehow.

And you do...or you think you do.  

I have been with my husband for approximately 14 years.  14 years of working things out.  Sometimes the work is really simple.  We disagree, see each other's points, apologize if needed and we move on to the next disagreement.  But, some times, there are these fights where you scream, holler and yell at each other like a 6th grader on the playground duking it out over who's on first, knowing   neither of you will ever win, completely disregarding any sort of respect for each other, totally going for the throat and there is no teacher here to save your stupid ass.  This has more than once  involved one of us packing bags, threatening "I've had enough of you" and many other horrible things and yet somehow we talk our way off this precipice and manage to mop up the mess and move on.

Some think marriage is about control, funny those who think I can control what my husband says or does. (Or God forbid he can control me) I pray to tell you, he is a man of his own mind who acts or reacts of his own accord.  And if you must know, I honestly believe he is the most stubborn, hard headed of us both. Marriage isn't all him, and it isn't all me.  I think for myself, he thinks for himself, at times we have to think for each other and all the time, we have to do what we think best on the fly.  There are many times I wonder why he reacts his way and I know he can't figure out my reactions to save his soul but, I think true key here is to call them as you see them and do what you see fit.  

We don't pretend anything between us, or around us, we are very down to Earth, realistic people.  No smoke.  No mirrors.  He sees my worst and I see his.  I can't say I'm proud of those moments but, he knows me, what I am, who I am and he loves me anyway.   I'm very blessed. 

Every marriage is different and only one of them belongs to you.  We (or I) try to remember our marriage is simply ours.  It's our success or our failure. No one else knows what goes on between us behind closed doors.  No one knows the things we see or we talk about, things we do or don't do. It's easy to judge someone else's relationship (even easier when you're a parent) but the hardest thing to remember is these things oftentimes have to play out for the lessons to be learned.  

When it's my turn.

The saddest thing I can imagine is being at the end of a life and not having a true soulmate, a confidant, a best friend that knows you, your secrets, and your fears enough to finish your sentences for you.   

Sometimes, I'm sad to not have a best female friend at this point in my life but, I am blessed to have married a man that listens to me and hears me, who hugs me when I cry, laughs at me when I laugh at myself and is willing to go along with whatever shenanigans I can think of. 

I have had a few best friends along the way.  I wish I could go back and handle the hiccups differently than I did.  Maybe those friendships would have been stronger...maybe they just went the way of fate.  I don't know.

And well, there are a few goofballs around to keep me in laughs and I am ever so thankful for them too!   I know there are a few of you who can finish my sentences and I hope you'll be there for me one day to do just that.

I think a lot these days about when I die.  How I'll handle myself when it's my turn. If I die slowly, I'll do this.  And if I die suddenly, I want to be sure to have always done this or that.  

I think about my son, and all the things he needs to know to live without a mom. Every day, I make sure I tell him how much I love him. I think that is the biggest, most important thing he always needs to know no matter how I leave him.  

I think about my husband and our life together and honestly, I can't write everything here...well...because I only want him to hear what I have to say. 

And my siblings.  Siblings are the strangest of relationships aren't they?  I have 5 of them...each of us from the very same parents yet all so very different and yet some of the very same. I think of my sister, dying from Cancer, and how I'd handle that if it were me.  She's not me and I'm not her.

I'd like to think if I were dying, you'd all come forward, make me laugh, make me cry and help me remember all the dumb shit we did together as kids (or as adults).  I'd also like to think I would take my time to put out some apologies.  I have regrets at 42, I'll have more at 52, 62, 72 and God forbid 82!  I hope I'll have courage enough to make things right where I can.

It is sad to think about death.  I didn't want to bury my sister when I was 10, my dad at 26, my mom at 41 or another sister here at 42.  God didn't ask me what I wanted.  He didn't ask me if I wanted a best friend but, all in all, he gave me the best friends.  

Whelmed?

"I know you can be overwhelmed, and you can be underwhelmed, but can you ever just be whelmed?"  ~ Bianca Stratford - 10 Things I Hate About You

It's a good question, isn't it?

I had about a week and a half off over Christmas and it was wonderful.  We didn't make any plans or take any trips, it was so nice just to relax and home, together and really to just BE.

I don't remember a time in my life where I've felt so full, so much and yet not be able to write freely, without consequence as I do now.  The choices and the changes I'm going through now are not mine so I can't openly share all of them here and it's really hard for me...yet I know it's just not my story to tell. 

Christmas was unusual, perplexing and almost inexplicable (I had a little fun on Google finding these words) for me this year.  I wasn't into the spirit, the spending, the tradition or magic of it all this year.   Our tree was down and all evidence of Christmas removed by the Monday after.  Not at all like me!  We did our normal dinner/snacks but, there wasn't a special "really wanted" gift for Jacob this year and it seemed to be a 'going through the motions' type thing for me.  I think that contributed to the lack of lacking this year.

Is it just us or did last year end with this huge pile of upheaval?  For us, it was another new job and even less money for Jeremy (better benefits and advancement though), my sister being diagnosed with stage IV Adenocarcinoma (soft tissue cancer), my responsibilities at work shifting and...a...long term house guest - which, I'm not going to lie, it's extremely hard/heart wrenching for me to watch this one play out.  And then our every day normal on top of all that. Y'all, this girl is overwhelmed!

And then I look back at last year, And I was just as overwhelmed.  I had lost my mom, I was terribly, excruciatingly angry with her, Jeremy left his job, I was thinking about leaving my job and a huge spot of my damned hair fell out!

Oh, I almost forgot, my corporate credit card was compromised too!

When does it stop?  When does it get easier?  When does the success outweigh the challenges?  When do I get to be just whelmed?

It's complicated

There are plenty of things I don't understand.   Relationships being the trickiest of all.

My mom volunteered a little of her time in a domestic violence shelter back home.  I met a few of the women staying there, women with blackened eyes, bloodied lips and swollen cheeks from their significant others.  I was always so proud of the women who got out, who ran with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and their kids. I remember being angry with the women that went back to those men.  Choosing that life, knowing they may not ever be strong enough to leave again.  Some of these women were in and out of the shelter numerous times - enough to where I knew them personally.  Sadly, I remember one woman we never saw again.  Her husband had brutally murdered her after he'd finally convinced her to come back to him. I'll never understand. 

I've found that no relationship is ever easy, parents, children, siblings, in-laws - any of it or all of it = not easy.  In fact, down right, plain old complicated. 

I had hoped after my mom passed away, some of my relationships would uncomplicate themselves but, to no avail.  In fact, some got worse. People always think they have the answer to every one else's problems.  They especially think mothers and daughters automatically bake cookies together, shop together and enjoy mother daughter tea parties.  There are those of us that know better.    You don't need to fix us.   You don't need to say the right thing or be uncomfortable  with us.  Most of us are quite comfortable with who we are or even who we aren't.   Please, just be yourself.   It's not complicated. 

I try not to think too much, of myself or of others.  I try not to have an opinion of anyone but myself.  I try not to be envious or to covet.  I try to mind my own business and keep my nose on my own page.  I find it a bit less complicated this way. Less to discuss, less to explain. It's hard though, to try to be better when people around you bring their judgements to your door.  When others try to force their opinions on you, to make you agree with them.  Why do we all have to agree?  Why can't it just be complicated and we leave it at that?

Just a song in my head

"It's so funny how we don't talk anymore
It's so funny why we don't talk anymore
But I ain't losing sleep and I ain't counting sheep
It's so funny how we don't talk anymore"

-Cliff Richard

It's a song from like 1979 and it's stuck in my head this afternoon. 

I was thinking earlier, next Spring, Jeremy and I will have been together 15 years.  When he was in the restaurant, once in a while, one of the servers would talk to me about him, something he'd said or done and as she was talking, I'd think to myself - Yeah, I do know.  He's MY husband.  We talk, there is no way you know him better than I do.

I think back to my mom often, and someone had once told her how I was manipulative and spoiled (which I was in my teens and 20's) I was.  I remember my mom's response to her - She's my daughter, I know full well what she can be. 

When I think about Jacob, I think about my relationship with my own mom.   I think about the things I shared with her, the things I kept to myself, and...uh...the things she heard about second and maybe even third hand.

I think about how she knew me.  The things she knew about me and I realize that after a point, and to a point, she and I were quite close.  After a certain age, I didn't have anything to hide.  It didn't matter anymore.  I knew who I was, she knew who I was, we both knew what made me who I was.  We also knew there was no going back.

In a way, I'm thankful that my mom never tried to hold onto my childhood. Never tried to take care of me or keep me under her wings.  I'm thankful she taught me not to need her, that she wouldn't save me or that I had to depend on her.  In some ways, I'm glad to know I couldn't rely on her.  I did it. I grew up.  

When she died, I didn't need her.  I hadn't needed her for some time.  When I say I didn't need her, I don't mean I didn't love or want her. I mean I didn't need her.  That time had come and gone. 

As parents, it's our job to grow our kids to not need us.  To not depend on us, to not need our help.  I think so anyway.  

I'll remember things for Jacob - his favorite foods, a few funny stories but I hope I remember to care for and love him for the person he is, not the person someone else sees or as the person he once was but for the man who grew into, the husband and father he'll hopefully become one day.   I'll be sure to make him a box of macaroni one day but, only when he asks me to, and not force him to relive my memories of him. 

I know my son. I know him as his mother.  I don't know him as a friend or as a student. I don't know him as his father does.  I don't know him as a teammate. I will never know him as a husband, as a father to his own children.  I will certainly never know him better than his wife. It's up to him to build that and me to stay out of his way when the time comes. 

Like any mom, I hope my son will always love me but, I'm not going to fight for it.  Or make an asshole of myself chasing after him, begging for his attention.  I hope I do it better than my parents so he knows I love him.  I hope I never get to a point where he doesn't want to speak to me or feels he has to cut me out. I want him to know he's loved and not feel suffocated by his overbearing parents.  I hope I teach him not to need me.  To know he'll be fine without me.  I think that's one of the best things I can give him.

Why?

Why are people such jerks?

Why are people so selfish?

Why are people offended by such little things?

Why when people don't know what to say or how to relate they back so far up they end up doing nothing?

Why do people send really late birthday cards?

Why do some not send any cards at all?

Why do people make themselves the center of attention?

Why do people act as if another person's hardships are irrelevant?

Why doesn't anyone have compassion?

Why must people share photos of torture and abuse?

Why don't kids play outside anymore?

Why do parents hover?

Why does a single mom not educate her child about the responsibility of diabetes?

Why does a child even have diabetes?

Why do parents ignore their children?

Why do other parents spoil theirs?

Why did my dad have to be sick?

Why couldn't I have a better relationship with my mom?

Why did my parents die when I was so young?

Why was my sister killed in an accident?

Why am I still here?

Why does my sister have cancer?

Why does this woman live to 105?

Why are some outspoken?

Why are some terribly shy?

Why doesn't anyone ask how I am?

Why do I care?

Why do some women have 10 children and 11 different dads and I can't carry one?

Why don't I trust people?

Why do I think I have to be strong?

Why are some people so weak?

Why does all this matter?