Pinkie Swear

It's been said a man's word is his bond and multi million dollar deals are sealed on handshakes.  For me, when I give you a pinkie swear you can take my word to your grave.

It all started as a pact with E when she was too young to grasp the concept of a handshake and the importance of keeping a promise.  That is when I introduced he to the pinkie swear concept.  Now, years later, she knows that mommy may forget some of her smaller requests like, "Mommy, will you please get me some gum?".  But if she has asks me more than twice she will pull out the big guns aka the pinkie swear.  Without fail, E will look me in the eye and straight faced say the words.... "pinkie swear, Mommy".

Now, as a responsible mommy trying to raise a reasonable kid,  I do not automatically enjoin my pinkie into hers.  This is not a gesture I take lightly; this is serious business.  I know that if I break just one pinkie swear promise that I am done.  E's trust in me would be forever lost or at least it will feel that way to me. (And I wonder where E gets her flair for the dramatic...)  And, for the record, I have refused more than one pinkie swear in my lifetime.

Last night I learned of a friend's personal struggle.  She is in pain and it is one that I am uniquely familiar with, unfortunately.  Auto immune diseases suck.  She had no idea I could feel her pain but still she reached out to me.  We visited, drew strength from each other and had we not been surrounded by others we would have surely cried together too.  Our visit was one of the those moments that affirmed my belief in God.  She put it best when she described our friendship and connection as simply, "A God thing".  I wholeheartedly agree. 

At the end of our night I said my goodbyes and prepared to leave.  I found my friend and gave her the biggest hug I could and told her we would get through this tough time for her together.  I ended with the words, "I promise".  As we released ourselves from the hug she pulled back and plain faced stuck out her pinkie finger.  She looked me in the eyes and said, "Pinkie Swear?".  That was one pinkie I accepted without thought.

Now, E saw all of this go down.  I was hoping she would learn a bit about friendship but instead she got very confused.  One our way home I ended up explaining that pinkie swears can be universal and not just between mommies and their kids.  Her only response to me was, "But you are still gonna buy me gum, right?"

  

I miss my grandparents

I miss my grandparents. It is not only the time of year that has brought this on, it is a daily thing but today it’s heavy. I miss the feeling of wanting to bust out of the car as we pulled into their driveway so I run through their door during a visit. I miss the smell of their house and of them. I miss monkey bread and rum cake and hearing the stories of late night dice games with friends. I miss hearing the ruckus in the kitchen when the family got together and a domino game got started. I will forever associate the smell of perm solution with Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, etc. Curler rolling papers were never far from Nanny’s reach when needed. A coveted role for many of the seven granddaughters was to get a turn to hand her the papers. We were easily entertained.
My grandfather had ears longer than my index finger and he let me flap his free lobes as much as I wanted when I climbed into his lap. It sounds strange, I know, but as a kid it was endless fun. I have free lobes like him just smaller, same goes for my daughter. He was larger than life in most ways and still is in my memories.
My grandmother had this knack of making people feel comfortable and loved. It was effortless and genuine; it was not something anyone taught her. My grandmother’s hair did not begin to gray until her last year of life, when she was 72. She did not color her hair, although as a beautician she certainly knew how but she did not need to. I have to think it was because of the way she lived her life, no pretense, no regrets and lots of humanity and love.

I miss my grandparents. I used to whisper in my daughter’s ear as I rocked her at night that one of my many wishes is that I live my life in such a way that people will continue to say nice things about me to her long after I am gone. My wish for us all is that we leave a legacy that even beyond the grave our love continues to spread.

Cheers

I wrote this when E was about 18 months old.  I reread my last post and the word, "Cheers" that I used reminded me of this piece and I wanted to share.  It is very simple but through it I remember every detail of the tea party described below.  E is in 5.  Time has passed too quickly....
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“Cheers” is how we toasted over imaginary tea. Bear, Baby, Ella and I all enjoyed our Cheerios, animal crackers and blackberries and “tea”. The setting sun’s rays directly hit her blond locks by way of the kitchen window. The shade was pulled up half way, its usual position. I have not moved the shade’s position since we moved in nine months ago, more proof I am not a great house keeper.
Oh, how I wanted to freeze that moment in time. Her smile, her cocked head, her giggle- the one that begins in the back of her throat and slowly travels to her lips- “Tsheers mommy,” she responded and touched her plastic tea cup to mine.
Cheers, baby girl.

I Am Real

I listened to Kate Winslet speak of a documentary (The Golden Hat) she is narrating about an autistic child whose voice was unlocked through the use of a keyboard.  After years of silence because of this child's inability to speak he reached out to the keyboard keys and typed his first words to the world: I AM REAL.

Think on that a minute.  The child had been institutionalized, he had been shut off from the world, from his family, from his life.  His first words when given the opportunity to communicate in a language others could understand was to say, "I AM REAL".

On my path to authenticity, those words hold such power for me.  To my kids: I am more than just a mommy. To my husband: I am more than just your everything.  To my employer: I am more than just a passionate water dork.  To the photographers I work with: I am more than just a form and pretty face.  To my family: I am more than just a memory of your past and the force in your present.  I am real.

I am too many things to account for in this small space.  Marianne Williamson once wrote, "“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Awesomeness. 

Cheers to being real.  Cheers to uncovering and embracing who you really are in this space of life.  Cheers to embracing that person once you find her.  And as E would say, give her a "kiss and peck and a hug around the neck."  B would quickly add "Again, mommy, Again" as he does with anything that makes his smile. 

Sing Sunshine, Mama

B is my baby. He is the child I prayed for, the child who taught me to pray for patience while on bed rest to keep him safe. He brought me closer to God and renewed my faith in miracles. Today B is 2 years healthy. He is mess of blonde hair, big smiles and larger than life prescence. His battery rarely runs low and we say when he sleeps that he is only recharging. I have expressed before that my life is hectic. When B was born the workload did not double as I thought it would with a second child; it exponentially exploded. There are days I still feel guilty for taking a shower or putting on make-up. E is at the age where she is fairly self sufficient but B is another story. Two nights ago, I was running on empty after 2 hours at the park preceded by an 8 hour work day then dinner, baths etc... At 8pm, I was ready for some silence and peace and luckily it was bedtime for B. He is in a big boy bed now so sometimes I sit with him as he falls asleeps and reconnect to the child who usually drives me crazy. That night, as he laid his head on his pillow, I began to stroke his hair to calm him. He loves someone brushing or stroking his hair. I am already praying that his future wife has the patenience and love to continue this practice once he leaves my home and creates one with her. So there we are, me and my baby in his dark bedroom, me sitting by his side when he looked up and gave me that grin and said, "Sing Sunshine to me Mama". He didn't notice when my voice cracked from emotion as I started to sing "You Are My Sunshine". I sang that song to him when he was a tiny baby and on some nights since then to try and calm him down. In all those times, I never thought about him actually listening to me-- I hope I kept my gangsta rap to a minimum. In that moment, he reminded me he is still a baby boy. My baby boy. I have not used any time to huff at his energy since that night. Just as my voice brings him comfort, his prescence in my life helps to give me purpose. Have I mentioned I also have a daughter? I love her too, I promise!

Hello Again!

It has been a while since I posted and I apologize for that.  Life happens.  There comes a time when every woman must learn her limits in this balancing game of life.  Working full time, 2 kids and we added a dog (after I told my husband I wanted a third child) has been a challenge for me.  Although writing is a release for me I pushed it away for a time.  Now that Boone has turned two I feel like my head is above water.  That is a bold statement for me.  Much of the past couple of years I have felt like I was drowning and could not make it to shore.  I could not win my battle with stress so I changed my approach and am happier for it.  I did not find peace with a little white pill, and I did not change jobs and I did not get rid of the husband either but I did find some peace.
 
Bear with me for a moment and I will explain.  One night my husband and I were flipping channels after the kids were asleep and started watching "The Black Swan".  I had not seen it in the theaters and honestly, I am glad I did not spend the money. But one scene in that movie changed my life.  (And it was not the lesbian scene).  Natalie Portman, in the movie, was a perfectionist in an extreme sense of the word.  Her character was announced as the lead ballerina at a formal ball held in her honor.  She noticed her cuticle was bleeding during her introduction.  Worried the blood would stain her white gown, she excused herself to the restroom and in her minds eye imagined pulling the skin and cuticle finger completely back.  It was gross, it was disgusting and it spoke volumes to me about myself.
Those close to me know I have picked at my cuticles all my adult life.  My fingers have been bloody, embarrassing messes and are permanently scarred from the abuse.  That scene and her character gave me an "aha" moment.  I am a perfectionist.  My husband says I am the messiest perfectionist he has ever known but that does not make it any less true.  I like things perfect- maybe not my house but my life, my kids, my marriage; I want to live my ideal image not my reality.  After the realization that I am not perfect set in (gasp!) I took action.

I have read nearly Brene Brown has written and many on her book list.  I am aware of my mindset and now I am living again.  My hands look a lot better too.  I found a very nice woman who gives amazing care to your fingers and does not judge, Lydian Flash.  She also speaks English which was a requirement for me so I could continually apologize for the look of my hands and have her say, "its okay" instead of her talking to her friends about me in a language I do not understand.
I receive a daily affirmation that I write down and refer to when I need a little help- read that to mean hourly.  Centering is an important part of this new journey I am on in life.  And as I tell my husband, happiness is a choice as is love,  marriage, kids, work, etc.  I am making my choices more wisely these days and today I chose to write!