Tag Archives: Mother

Why July Sucks Balls.

11 Jul

Did you know July is my favorite month? Well, it is and has been for years. I love everything about July. The weather, the festivals, the fresh produce, the holiday! How could a month that starts with fireworks be anything but extraordinary!?

 

Well, I’ll tell you.

 

I had all these hopes and dreams for July. I was going to have my favorite month all to myself. I was to be on a vacation from motherhood. Tanning, reading, eating what I wanted, sleeping nude, cooking nude, having crazy sex anywhere at anytime with T. This month was going to be peaceful and relaxing and free! I would have no responsibilities, nothing pulling me away from writing, this was to be “The Month of Cards”! But unfortunately, this month did not live up to the hype I created in my head.

I find myself too sad to write anything funny. I feel so lonely that I find myself doing absolutely nothing, just waiting for T to come home. I have no motivation to even enjoy the beautiful weather and have tanned all of 1 hour this week. I downloaded my book so I could listen to it because I feel too depressed to read. The plants in my garden are withering away because B would always water them with me in the mornings and evenings. And this morning, well, this morning I had a bit of a melt down.

I cooked bacon and eggs for breakfast. I dished up 2 plates and set them on the table. I called out, “Buggy! Breakfast!” and then silence. B is gone. I sat down looking at my plate, and then to B’s empty seat beside mine. I sobbed into my bacon.

How does one enjoy life without the key ingredient to joy?

I never realized how BIG of a part this little man played in my life. I love him, I enjoy his company, he’s my son. But it’s so much more. Maybe it’s unhealthy, maybe this is normal. Whatever it is, I’ve at least learned something.

I will never take my time with him for granted. Perhaps I haven’t truly been appreciative of my son and all he adds to my life. He’s just always been there, like the sun and moon and stars. I never had to imagine a world without him, because he was always with me.

 

July Sucks Balls. I didn’t want a learning experience and I didn’t want to search myself and realize I’ve been taking my son for granted. Looking hard into oneself is not relaxing, in fact it’s uncomfortable and sometimes ugly.

 

I guess I should probably do a bit more growing and thank July for sucking balls. Because it’s made me a better mother, and at least for that, I am truly grateful.

 

Dear July 2012,

I have thoroughly searched myself and I feel I have grown as an individual and a mother. Now, can I please have some fun?

 

Your biggest admirer,

Lacey

Seek out little pleasures, to obtain happiness you must.

5 Jul

Today is the first day without my bug. It started rather early when T’s alarm sounded for him to wake. I had every intention of falling right back asleep and taking full advantage of the morning silence.

I couldn’t.

I tried and tried. Tossed and turned, fluffed my pillows, sprawled out in the center of the bed….

Sleep did not come to me. All that came to me was a frown and the urge to climb into my little boy’s bed.

I fought this urge for a while, but the longing to smell the scent of my little guy was far too strong to resist. I made my way to his bed.

I laid there. Then, out of nowhere, I felt warm wet liquid on the sides of my face, my nose started running. What? No Lacey. Stop.

Yeah, I wept. I didn’t cry. I wept. These were tears of sorrow. Everything inside me wanted my little boy home in his bed.

Seriously, what is my problem? This is supposed to be a relaxing, month-long break from motherhood. I am supposed to be drinking a mimosa with breakfast, basking in the hot summer sunlight, reading books and foremost, SLEEPING. I miss sleeping so much. And yet, here I am. In my son’s bed, weeping on his pillow and longing to touch his cute flushed cheeks as he sleeps.

Oh how precious he looks when he sleeps…. My heart is cracking.

 

I finally got a grip on myself and decided to find a distraction. I put on some obnoxiously loud music and started cleaning. It was 7:55am and I was cleaning. SERIOUSLY LACE! YOU ARE PATHETIC.

I cleaned furiously. I sang loudly. I cried intermittently. I brewed a pot of Starbucks French Roast.

I went around scrubbing this, sweeping up that, putting away dishes, throwing laundry around all the while a perma-scowl invaded my should-be peaceful face. Boo. This month is gonna suck balls. Why did I think this month was going to be the best month of the year? I was utterly mistaken.

But as I pouted, the smell of my favorite Starbucks roast took over the house as I cleaned. I started taking deep breaths, drinking in the aroma. Mmm…time for a coffee break I thought. I took my coffee to the living room and started sipping. I continued to smell the beautiful dark roast glory, tasting the righteous nectar of the Caffeine Gods with each long and leisurely drink.

 

Wait a minute. This coffee is still hot and I’ve almost finished the cup. I smiled. I put my cup down on THE SEAT CUSHION of the couch. I got up to check the quiche in the oven. I came back, the cup hadn’t spilled. I picked it up, drank it. The last sip was still hot and filled with victory!

 

I miss my son and my heart is cracked. But my scowl is gone and I am on my third (uninterrupted) cup of Starbucks.

 

So it might be small but I have found something worth enjoying out of this whole separation.

 

DELICIOUS HOT COFFEE!

 

I’m hoping to find more little pleasures to enjoy in order to mask the sorrow of the biggest thing I enjoy being absent.

 

***I hope all my American friends enjoyed their Day of Independence yesterday. Mine was a mixed bag of balls, but the fireworks at Niagara Falls were breathtaking.***

 

Do It Right

18 May

I might be 25 but I can still be a bratty little sister.

November 2011:

My mom is visiting me in Canadaland for 2 weeks. My sister calls on Skype because she is frustrated with her weight loss. (Leah has been dropping the pounds and rocking it! So proud of you Leah!)

Leah: Momma, I’ve plateaued.

Mom: This is totally expected hun. You should change-up your diet and increase your exercise.

Leah: Yeah, I know. But I don’t know what else I can do, diet wise….

They go back and forth brainstorming. My mom continues to encourage Leah, she seems to be unresponsive and set on being pouty. (I’m such a little sister)

While Leah and mom are having this LONG discussion I become a wee-bit bored. I’m sitting across the room from my mom so Leah can not see me. I start mimicking my sister. I’m moving my hands as I imagine Leah is doing, moving my head back and forth while flapping my mouth. Our mom is trying her best to ignore me. She does this quite well but at times she is a bit delayed in responding to Leah. Over time, she begins to crack and starts struggling with her facial expression and forming sentences. SUCCESS! Leah catches on. She knows I am up to something.

Leah: Lacey, what are you doing? (she’s a little annoyed but mostly curious)

I move across the room and stand directly behind the laptop. Leah can hear me, but not see me.

Me: In a very serious voice I say, “Leah, I have an idea to help you conquer this plateau.”

Leah: “Yeah? What is it?”

The look on my moms face… she knows me too well. She knows I’m about to say something dripping of sarcasm and completely insensitive.  She knows I can not keep it in my head, it has to be released. Mom is now working on her facial expression. She’s preparing to stay straight-faced after whatever I deliver.

Me: Do it right. (I say this in an obviously sarcastic way with a titch of condescension)

Leah: WHAT!?

Me: (I slow it down real good) Do… It… Right.

Leah: Oh Lacey! (this is the response I get when Leah thinks I am funny, but also rude/annoying/vulgar/or generally inappropriate)

Our mom gives Leah her best “above it all” face to Leah trying her best to not react to what just happens. She totally fails though. She thinks I am hilarious. SUCCESS!

They continue on with other matters concerning Leah. Next up for discussion was what she should do with her hair. Color, Cut, Style… I take the opportunity to pester once more.

Me: Oooo! I know! This would be awesome! I don’t think you’ve ever done this before….

Leah and my mom are interested in my amazing light bulb.

Leah: What Lace? What ya thinking?

Me: How bout’ you do it right.

Leah hollers at me and my mom once again is trying to keep composed. Leah insists I show myself on Skype. I deny her this blessing. It’s way too much fun not being seen. She doesn’t see these things coming and it’s way too entertaining for me!

I got a few more “Do it right’s” in there before they FINALLY wrapped up their conversation. As they were saying goodbye she shouted, “Bye Butthead!” I replied “DO IT RIGHT! AND GOOD NIGHT!”

She cursed at me but I wasn’t quite sure what she said. I was however sure that she cursed with a smile, and that my readers, was a great example of “Doing It Right”.

This recount of me saying “Do it Right” was playful and completely in jest. I love my sister and I did (between being a sarcastic brat) offer up real ideas and solutions to her dilemmas that evening.

 

 

BUT  there have been so many instances where I encountered an absolute moron. It takes “filter overdrive” to prevent myself from blurting out in utter annoyance, “Do it right!”

I want to design a “Do It Right” ticket/citation of sorts. There would be boxes I can check next to moronic behaviour, or things that I generally see people doing wrong. There would be space on the back for specific write-ups with pointers, books, or other materials that could aid them. At the bottom it would have big letters reading DO IT RIGHT with my number to call if they need assistance figuring it out.

Momma

22 Aug

Where to begin? So many emotions and memories flood into my mind and make it nearly impossible to define a start point for this post. I’ve been staring at my laptop for about 5 minutes now running through possible starter lines, or a clever way to ease into all that is awesome about my Momma… No luck. Whatever, I’ll just piss off the perfectionist inside me and just put it all out there void of any flow and in a non-eloquent fashion.
My mom is awesome to put it mildly. Pretty much any word synonymous with spectacular can be used to describe her. She has been a consistent player in my game of life since the day I was born. I could even go so far as to give her credit for that whole 9 months of pregnancy thing (I suppose she has something to do with my life even before I was aware I had one).

 

She was and is Wonder Woman to me. She did it all. From the standard mom jobs of cooking, cleaning up after her slob-ish family, helping with homework, running us around to friends houses, as well as the occasional 9-5 job mixed in there. But she had a much more demanding job when it came to taking care of me.
I know you’re thinking it would be such a pleasure to take care of me, I’m supertastic! And you are right, I am supertastic. But its true, it was demanding and very emotionally draining for her at times. Many late nights/early mornings she would hold me as pain consumed my body. I know she must have felt so helpless and worn down from the constant fear of losing me. But her arms around me gave me a relief that no medication could. She spent every night in an uncomfortable chair next to my hospital bed any time I was admitted. She only left my side when my dad wasn’t able to pick up my siblings or she had to pee or something I guess. She was always there (whether I thought I needed her or not), she was my voice when I hadn’t found my own, always my advocate. She’s a fighter and a do-er, she gets things done…I get that from her. She was constantly praying for me and when she wasn’t praying she was tending to my every need and I mean EVERY need. I won’t go into detail but being a caregiver, uhh…well it’s not always just fluffing pillows and massaging muscles. So much of her life has been consumed by caring for others. Rarely did she ever take time to address her own needs.
Some may say, “Well, that’s just being a good mom”. No, you’re wrong. She’s not just a good mom, she’s more than that. She is something that has yet to be named in the English language. I hope to someday discover the word that encompasses all that she truly is. But until then saying that I have the most ‘consummate mother’ on the planet will have to do.

 

To you, my dearest Momma:

You are a blessing to my life. I know what we share as Mother/Daughter is something unique and special, I wouldn’t trade it for ALL the Whoopass in the world. (You know that’s saying a lot because I’d trade several adults, animals, and countries for that delivery of Whoopass.) You are not only my mother but you are my friend. I can share anything with you and I know that you will give me the blunt-honest-truth in return. I’m glad I inherited your ability to speak the blunt-honest-truth. Although, you have found a way to put more grace into your deliverance of truth than I currently have. That leaves me something to aspire to. You and I (and unfortunate others) know I lack grace… =)
Without your consistent game-play and the sacrifices you made in your life to secure my hand, I wouldn’t have lived long enough to receive my re-deal, I truly believe that.
But Momma, I can see the residue my childhood of pain left inside your heart. It affects you still to this day and I can feel it any time I tell you about something slightly odd going on with my body. Momma, you don’t have to carry that burden anymore. God has lifted my burden out of me, now it is time for you to let him lift yours as well. Let go of the fear, heartbreak and stress my first hand left you with, that hand is over.
Come join me (sans the anxiety) in my re-deal where all I need from you is you and nothing more.

Thank you for your unconditional love, support, encouragement, prayers and friendship over the past 24 years and for all I can expect to receive until we leave this earth. I love you more than Costco apple pie and Whoopass combined plus a bunch of other stuff… Hmm, doesn’t really equal my love for you. Mom I love you so much, right up there with how much I love God. Yup, right there, captured the love amount.

Your favorite middle daughter,
Lace

P.S. You are always right. I’ll admit it.

 

 

To my reader: I still don’t feel I was able to convey how awesome my mom is. But that’s ok. People really couldn’t grasp it unless she was their mom too. And I’m not willing to sell her, or trade her as stated above and as it is I have to share her with so many other people its ridiculous! Just take my word for it, anyone would be beyond lucky to have her as a player in their game of life. Unless you are looking for a good “poker face” because hers sucks… What? It’s true! I’m not being rude, she knows it as well. You can read her face like a children’s book…