Savory and rotten bits

Other than being married to my hubby for 18 years and working our asses off to make it 80 more...there is nothing I am more proud of in my life than my kids. Any of you who know me, read my blog, watch me on social media know that I love and adore them in an almost unhealthy way...lol.

I love being a part of their lives. I love that they include me in triumphs and trials. I love that they are learning to own their imperfections and not be afraid of having an opinion that is different than others. I love that they are all extremely different and yet aligned in some mystical way. I love that they have embraced and allowed other people into our family group....even their sibling group and understand that family is not just blood. I love that they love their extended family--the haphazard group we all are with strong personalities and stronger yet convictions who sometimes yell and often judge, who makes mistakes but deeply love.

And I love that they love me.  They care about my well being. They pray for me and send me good vibes. They love to see me spend money on myself and do things that I enjoy doing. They ask how I am and truly want to hear the answer. They respect me and the struggles that I've been through. They respect me and do their best to listen. This does not mean doing 'what I say' and I love that too. Seeing them become adults is both hard and delightful.  I love walking through valleys and resting on mountaintops with them.

As I think about entering this new stage of life--no kids in the house-- in August when our youngest heads off to college....I am happy that while I am still a little nervous and Eeyorish some days...teary eyed from time to time....I am also seeing it as a stage where I can learn to love myself as much as they do.  And believe me, while I have not always loved myself...I have never once doubted that I am a very loved person.  I just didn't always understand why.

It might be surprising that as I think of the tremendous humans attached to those tattooed arms above, my mind is not resting on great parenting wins. It's not resting on times my hubby and I made wise choices and saved the day with our expertise. It's not even resting on those sweetly delicious times of cuddling, bedtime songs or kissing the boo boos.

It's resting on times I made those crazy parenting misses. Those times I might do different if I had the chance. Then again, maybe I wouldn't.  And I am laughing and wincing and marveling that we're all in one piece and relatively normal.  So of course I am sharing a couple because well.....live out loud.  I know it's not for everyone and I'm cool with that.  But it is for me and it brings me healing and comfort and peace to share all of my savory and rotten bits.

The girl was 4. I know this because it was only her. And we were late. Nothing new. And it was snowy and icy and all kinds of Wisconsin outside.  And it was dark because when you have a 45 minute drive at 6 in the morning? It's cold and dark and crappy. So we trudge in a very hurried way to the car. I don't remember but I am quite certain I was rushing her and dragging her.  (She really was the most whimsically slow child. There is no time to taste the snowflakes child.) In the car seat, stuff tossed in the back, threw it into reverse and. Stayed still. Wheels spinning. Try again. Stayed still. Wheels spinning. Sigh. Get out and access. Yep. Ice. Try to chop it away. Kick it free. Seems good. Hop in and threw it in reverse. Stayed still. Wheels spinning. Sigh. Open drivers door. Stick unbooted foot out. (because 24 year old single mothers are still trying to be freaky and fine and I guess it worked because it was very shortly before I'd snag my hubby) And I push as I throw it in reverse. And we rock. And rock. And then stay still. Wheels Spinning. The start of tears for more than the ice. For more than running late. For being alone and not getting it done. For knowing that my perpetual lateness at work was wearing thin and I didn't really have time for this. For the little eyes in the rear view mirror staring at me. The little eyes. The little eyes. 'George. Wanna help mommy?" Of course she did. This girl, like her momma loved a good underdog and the chance to help them.  "Sit right here.  Like a big girl. And hold the steering wheel...very very still.  And see those pedals down there.  The left one stops. And the right one goes.'  Car in reverse. One foot on the brake one on the ground. 'Put your foot here with allllllll of your strength. Let's see, can you hold it down?'  Yes. Yes she could because well. She's always been a rock star. 'Ok. Mommy is going to tell you exactly what do and you are going to help me drive!!!!!!' George's eyes are saucers and she smiles. 'Ooooh.'  And I leave my child in the driver's seat. And I head to the front of the car to push. 'Ok sweet girl, very slowly, like 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 take your foot off of the one that stops and then wait ok?'  Push. Little rock. Step one. Done. 'Great! Now put that same little footsie on the one that goes. Kind of gentle. Mommy will tell you when to take your foot off. Remember to hold that steering wheel as still as you can.  Push. Movement. Step two. 'Yay!! Now take your foot off of the one that goes and very, very slow like 1,2,3,4,5 put your foot back on the one that stops. And then wait.' And I jumped back in that car and threw it in park.   And I cried and laughed and hugged those little eyes so tight.

The boys were maybe 3,4 and 5?  Unclear because 1999-2002 are kind of a blur of toddler times clouded by mania and depression. But we were in the grocery store.  I never wanted to be the kind of mom who had to wait until dad got home to go out and do things.  PSA. It's okay to be that mom sometimes! So we're at the store in our usual fashion. Mom feeling focused and ready to tackle this. Chubby little cheeks and non stop chatter.  Izzy in the seat and Isaiah and Elijah in the big red attachment created especially for crazy moms like me who made all of Pick N Save patrons suffer on a Saturday morning by bringing her tribe in for vittles.  And the famously favorite word of children everywhere was on triple repeat. 'Mom. Momma.'  I used all of my parenting skills. I addressed and smiled. I ignored and redirected. I took deep breaths. I pretended I didn't know who they were talking to.  This was amidst the goofy one's habit of reaching into other people's carts when they weren't looking, snagging something of theirs and tossing it into our cart. Seriously. This was amidst channel 6's (because he brought all the news) occasionally crying and tattling because he was being tortured by being ignored and also my big brothers who made faces at him. This was amidst the grandpa one's constant reminder of the things that we needed.  And. 'Mom. Momma.'  Now knowing I likely was having a panic attack but at the time not.  I took deep breaths. 'Momma why are you breathing so hard? Ew.' I closed my eyes. 'Momma, why are your eyes closed. You're gonna hit something.' I went to an aisle where there were no other customers. 'Momma, we don't need anything down this aisle.'  'Mom. Momma. Mom. Momma. Mom. Momnmna.'  And then, in a Cruella de Ville way I squinted my eyes up and bent slowly down. I leaned in toward those chubby little cheeks. I lowered and quieted my voice because well a whisper is scarier than a yell. And I told them, 'If you say mom. Or momma. One. More. Time. I am going to leave you right here in this shopping cart and I am going to go home.'  Each of their faces were examining mine, checking for validity of this threat and slowly comprehending that yes I was quite serious.  I saw a mouth start to open. 'No, no. There is no talking. There is none. You may not say my name. You may not call me mom once more time at all today. I can not hear you. One more time. Say the word momma.' Those big ole eyes were in full understanding now. Mums. The. Word.  Except for the goofy one. Pretty much always the one to push.  Tilted his head. Big ole grin. All the teeth. 'What should we call you then?'  And through my laughter and tears I said, "Call me Fred."

My anger and frustration came out way more than it should have. Not that there aren't times for parents to be angry or frustrated. They definitely happen and might even be needed at times in middle school and high school. You might have to slap a cheek or flip a tv tray on occasion. Ok, maybe not you. But I might.

I don't like the times it came out in those small times of irritation because I hadn't gotten enough sleep. Because I couldn't juggle it all. Because I displaced anger. Because working too much, marriage and bipolar. Because some times it can all just be too much. So I missed out on opportunities and I forgot to rejoice. I bristled instead of embraced. I shut out instead of seeing.

And you don't get those moments back. But if you are lucky, you get new ones.

And you sing silly songs. And you ambassador and advocate. And you have catch phrases. And you cook for all the friends and open up your home. And you take road trips and still love each other at the end. And you plan surprises and search for just the right gift.

And you learn to love the Jonas Brothers and Spice Girls because it's good to be a filled with music. And you travel the Midwest for soccer because it's good to pursue dreams. And you goofy dance and laugh at silly jokes because it's good to remember that life is full of joy. And you let your windows be washed by spit on socks because it's good to help others.

And the next thing you know. It's 18,19,20 and 25 years. It's seeing these four amazing humans who are sometimes more responsible than you. Who love others fiercely and with abandon. Who fight for themselves and those most forgotten. Who have respect for their elders (and that includes you and your hubby) and appreciate where they've come from. Who might not have much, but understand that what they have is more.

I love that they do their own thing. I love how they love each other. I love that they have a group message and talk--probably often about their crazy family-almost daily. I love that they know one day Fred and Dad won't be here and they get to carry the legacy. I love that they believe in happy endings and that there is a peak coming after the valley.

Love your tribe well. Invest in those humans around you. The ones you have been blessed to intersect with. For all the 4 year olds driving and toddlers almost being left in grocery stores...might become young adults tackling daily life and killing it. And they might not. So we can't waste one moment of them not knowing that they are your people.

Trusting mine know it well. And that I never forget it's part of my lot to make sure they do.

That's what I got today.