thursday blues…
It’s a week until Eliza’s sixth birthday. When I was in New Orleans a few weeks ago to spend the weekend with my friend (and webmaster extraordinaire!!), Aleece, she asked me if Eliza’s birth seemed more or less traumatic to me now. At the time, I told her that it seems like a weird dream… like it couldn’t really have happened the way it did, like it couldn’t have really been that bad (though Mike assures me it did and it was).
Turn out, it only seems that way until recently. Now, it’s not quite like that. This happens to me every year right before her birthday, so I don’t know why it caught me by surprise this year.
I’m having trouble sleeping this week, though so far I haven’t had the nightmares that I used to have about her, so that’s good. But I keep thinking about those days leading up to her birth and about my doctor and all of those emotions just come back. I’m all grateful and guilty and overwhelmed again. I know that by next Wednesday, I’ll just be grateful, but for now it’s a little much.
The kids I’m friends with at work (and they really are young enough to be called ‘kids’) were laughing and teasing me (not about this!), and I literally thought, “I have got to get some old lady friends.” They’re all too young to have had similar life experiences and so they don’t relate to what I’m doing or feeling.
I do miss being surrounded by people who know me well rather than by people who know me in a fleeting manner. It would make it easier for someone to remind me that while the week leading up to Eliza’s birth and the weeks immediately thereafter were really horrid, we did both survive.
And that’s something for which we are all very grateful.
Filed under Most Everything | Permalink | Comment (1)Tagged with: Eliza
wordless wednesday - limes!
Eliza picked limes for me with Nana while Mike and I were in Chicago.
Tagged with: Eliza • limes • Wordless Wednesday
leaving …
As part of the training for the job I got the promotion for, I had a week of school here this week. I leave tomorrow morning for two weeks of training at the home office location. I’m not looking forward AT ALL to being away for that long, but it’s what I have to do. I’m going to try to post updates here from my phone. We’ll see how well that goes.
Until then, enjoy a photo of Eliza at her pre-K graduation.
Tagged with: Eliza • pre-K graduation • promotion
The lessons I learn on my lunch break…
In my house, I’m the only one going to work or school during the Christmas break. It’s not easy… for me or Mike. And poor Mike, Eliza’s been working on everyone’s last nerve lately.
Before I tell the whole story, you should know a few things…
In general, Mike and I are really easy parents. We’re generally honest with both kids. We’re generally laid back. We want home to be fun and happy and easy. We kinda roll with the punches. We don’t give the kids chores. I think they should help because they live here not because we offer them money. We don’t doll out harsh punishments. We never spank (do what you will… I’m not criticizing people’s choices, just saying that’s what our choice is).
And periodically, both kids push. They push those vague and shapeless limits and boundaries, and we lay down the law and no one likes it, and eventually whichever kid is in question shapes up & we go back to having fun. And sure, one theory is that we should just keep things strict and we wouldn’t have the pushing. But we’ll risk it.
So Eliza’s been pushing. Yesterday, I told her that if she could meet my criteria (without throwing a fit… minding me and Mike… generally being nice) for two entire days, she could have new bubbles. Baby has been asking for new bubbles for forever. If she can make it an entire week, we’ll take the kids to this fun zone thingy she wants to go to because her friend at school goes.
You with me? Here’s my actual story.
Since Mike’s here with pushy Eliza and video game Griff, I came home today for lunch just to give him a snippet of grown-up talk. He had asked Eliza to pick up the Clue sheets she had torn off the pad and strewn across the room. She wasn’t so much doing it, but she wasn’t throwing a fit, either.
She came and sat by me at the kitchen counter and we talked, and I asked her to go do that for her daddy. I reminded her of the bubbles. She slid off the kitchen stool and went into the front room and did as she was asked. I could hear her begin to whimper.
By the time she finished, she was crying. But it wasn’t that fit-throwing screaming angry cry. It was a calmer, more resigned cry. She curled up on the sofa, and I covered her with a blanket. I told her how proud I was of her, of how she made the right choice even though it was difficult. And before I left to return to work, I turned on Eliza shows and told her she could rest a while. (Mike later said she watched one show and popped up, happy as can be.)
As I drove back to work, I was thinking about how she learned a valuable lesson… and I realized that I did, too.
How many times do we have choices we know we need to make because they are - really and truly - the right choices for our lives? How many times have we felt like God was leading us in one direction when we wanted to go in another… or not go anywhere at all?
Our move here to Florida was so difficult (frankly, I wonder when I’m going to stop thinking that… if I’m being overly dramatic… I mean, Eliza’s not a drama queen by accident), and yet it was right for our family. Just like Eliza’s working toward new bubbles, I was working toward a life free of that unrelenting stress and hatred and fear that had begun to consume us.
And for a while I just screamed at God when I thought about it. But then, it became less of an angry cry and more of a pitiful whimper. The cry of acceptance, a cry of sad pain, the cry of choice.
This last year for me wasn’t one of screaming anger (2007 was so not my year), but one of whimpering sadness. I felt like I was so much stronger most days but then some days, I felt that cry of loneliness and missing well up inside of me. I’m hoping that 2008 was my year of lying on the sofa and accepting.
My hope… no, my prayer… is that 2009 is my year of hopping up and finding that happiness. Of course, that said, I still believe that happiness is fleeting. It’s why I’m chasing contentment.
Maybe, though, by chasing contentment, I will find that content is my definition of happy.
Filed under Faith | Permalink | Comments (3)Tagged with: Eliza • Faith • lessons learned
Happy Birthday, Eliza!
Hi, there, precious. Happy 5th Birthday!!
I can hardly believe this is my fifth such letter to you! I know you’ll think it makes me sound old to say this, but it honestly is like I blinked and you were big.
Really… look at this when you were a year old … or this when you were two … or this from when you were three … or this from just last year! I’m astounded at how quickly the time is passing. I want some days to scoop you up and hold you so tight, to pull all of the energy and love out of my time with you that I can. I want to surround your little self with all of the love that your daddy, Griff and I can give you.
You are amazing, you know. You’re strong and brave and powerful, even if all that force is squeezed into a tiny package. You drive me crazy, of course, pushing all of my buttons. I can only imagine what we’re going to be like together in another decade. Your daddy dreads it already. Think of it, by then, Griff will be away at college & it’ll just be the three of us. Two strong-willed girls and Mike. Makes me smile, little chickie.
But to tell you the truth… the things that drive me crazy about you now are the things that I want you to really embrace when you’re older. You’re independent and determined to do things your own way. The fact that everyone else is doing something has little bearing on your decisions, which will serve you well as you get older if you can hold onto that.
You make me smile, Eliza. These last couple of years have been hard on us, me and your brother, especially. Last night, Griff told me that when he is angry or sad or upset, he thinks about you and he feels better. You don’t know it now, but that’s a really groovy thing.
As for me, I look at you, and you take my breath away. You are so beautiful. And you are so strong and spirited. And I am proud of you. When people say you look or act just like me, I remember that I should be proud of me, too. So I thank you for that reminder of the woman I am apart from just being The Mama.
I’m quite sure you know already that you’ve got your daddy wound around your little finger. I’m pretty sure he’s ok with that.
You crack us up these days. You like to sing everything like we’re all in some weird non-school version of “High School Musical.” You could live on sausage, popcorn, cheese and chips. You could eat your weight in sausage, frankly. Grosses me out. You have to take a stuffed animal or baby with you EVERYWHERE you go. You push that darned baby stroller all over the house with any number of babies in it, making such a racket! You like to pretend you’re a cat… drives your daddy bonkers, which makes Griff and me laugh.
I’m glad you’re still little enough to be sweet and give hugs and kisses and first-thing-in-the-morning snuggles.
We are endlessly blessed to have you. We are ever-thankful for Dr. A for seeing what needed to be done for you and for me and for doing it quickly and without hesitation. He’ll be getting birthday goodies himself today. Some day, when you’re bigger, we’ll tell you all about how he saved us. For now, just know that you are dear to us beyond words.
We love you, sweetie.
love, mama
Filed under Jewelry, Most Everything | Permalink | Comments (3)Tagged with: Eliza • Eliza's birthday • love
