Thinking about the unthinkable...

A person's a person, no matter how small.

                          - Dr. Seuss

As someone who uses writing as therapy, the past few days have beckoned me to sit down at my computer and put my thoughts to paper.  I have repeatedly dismissed these promptings and busied myself with other things.  My mind (not to mention my heart) have been heavy since the events that took place last Friday in Connecticut and today I desperately needed to "empty" my thoughts onto paper.  I try to resist the urge of jumping on the bandwagon when everyone is shaking their fists and spewing opinions.  Events such as these give everyone a platform and frankly, I find it exhausting.  A dear friend of mine called me from out West last night and we spoke of the horrific events that had just transpired.  I snidely remarked that just like every other catastrophe, we too would forget this one.  Her reply to me was "I don't know.  This one feels different".

I think she was right.  This one does feel different.

At the risk of stating the obvious,  the shooting that took place at Sandy Hook Elementary was for lack of a better word....unnecessary.  The innocent lives that were taken and the manner in which they were taken is just inconceivable and try as we might, I don't think anyone can wrap their heads around it.  I have attempted to imagine what those parents felt when they were summoned to their children's rescue  just an hour after sending them off to school.  I watched the news and saw the panic stricken faces of those who frantically looked for their children.  Some cried tears of joy when they were reunited and for others, time stood still.  Feelings of despair began to sink in as their worst fears were confirmed.  

My husband does not like when any of us speak of the "accident" that occurred in our family just over two years ago.  He has often said that he does not want our family to be known as "THAT family" and reminds us often that it did not, nor should it define us.  I respect his opinion on this matter and yet I learned so much from that experience.  I am in no way, NO WAY,  comparing my boys accident to the slaughtering of these children.   I do, however, speak from experience when I say that I know what it feels like to think that one of your children might be dead. It is an out of body experience and one that paralyzes you. You actually feel a hole in your stomach that goes deeper than you could possibly fathom and your heart beats so loudly that you can't even hear yourself think.  People are talking to you but you have no idea what they are saying.  

You go numb.

My son survived that freak accident and I am forever grateful.  He was with my husband and I took comfort in the fact that he was with the only other person in the world who loved him as much as I did. In that painful hour of panic, the fact that Matt had my children (dead or alive),  I was calmer than I would have been had I known that they were alone.  In times of grief, you look for any comfort...small as it may be.  

My son had fallen victim to an accident.  He might have never be the same.  He might have been dead when I arrived at the hospital...these were all facts and possible scenarios.  But no one had hurt him.  No one had decided that it was their god given right to inflict harm upon my child, let alone take his life.  I think I speak for the masses when I say that we all react violently to the thought of someone hurting our flesh and blood.  The calmest of parents will go postal if anyone poses a threat to one of their own.  If you disagree, I challenge you to attend any Saturday morning little league event...people go out of their freaking minds.  

We want so desperately to protect our children and that is why the events that took place last week have left our nation stunned and feeling so helpless.   Our worst fears were played out in front of us and there wasn't a thing we could do about it.  Parents just like us lost children and they were left to sift through the aftermath feeling helpless.  Furthermore, they were at one of the few places where we consider them to be safe...school.   Elementary school at that.   As a parent, I would torture myself with burning questions.  "Were they calling for me"?  "Did they suffer"?  "Were they scared"?...if these burning questions have not yet come, I am sure that they will and will wake these parents for months if not years to come.  I don't know how you go on after something like this.

I know that this is depressing.  Bear with me, I am getting to my point.

Bad things happen to good people everyday and I think it's safe to say that for everyone who was affected by this, this was by far, their darkest day.  Throughout my life, I have heard the expression that we should be grateful for our trials.  I have had many heavy things heaped upon me in my young life.  Burying both parents before I was thirty.  A significant accident with one of my children that caused not only immediate but long term strain on my family.  Most recently,  a brain hemorrhage that had doctors telling my husband that it was very possible that I would not survive.  As I reflect on all of my trials, I recognize that these things have been mere upsets in my life and pale in comparison to what the families of these slain children are going through.  As I think of burying a child just one week before Christmas, I for the first time understand what it means to be grateful for my trials.

I will take mine thank you very much. 

I would consider myself passionate but not emotional.   I have more than sniffled this past week.  I have cried out from that deep place in my heart that makes it impossible to stifle my emotions and enormous tears have hit my cheeks.  I have turned the news off and yet the story has remained with me.  I have been in the middle of doing something totally ordinary and I am suddenly overcome by emotion.  I ache for all of those who have been affected...The children who were murdered.  The students who saw things they will never forget.   The parents of these little victims, not to mention their siblings.  The first responders who will forever be affected by the crime scene.  Finally, our nation as we swallow the enormous pill of just what it is we have become.

I am not a pessimist and I believe that for the most part, people are good.  It seems, however,  that our country has been on the fast track to disaster for quite some time.  We were just too arrogant to acknowledge that our own actions might be the vessel in which we were headed there.  The clues have been there all along but we were too busy supporting the cause to acknowledge what might be the solution.

While I believe that most people are good, I can't help but think that many, if not most, are incredibly unhappy.  What's worse is that we don't realize how un-fulfilled we are.  We race around in our self absorbed culture and sprint from one meaningless activity to the next.  In doing this, we leave little time for the things that actually matter.  We are so fearful of confronting who and what we are that we look to our cell phones and social media to boost us for a whopping 30 seconds until something else causes a distraction and stimulates us for another 30.  We start our day on the hamster wheel that is our life and run in circles, climbing off at the end of the day feeling tired and empty (not to mention dizzy).  Heaven forbid that we just sit still and enjoy the simple things around us.

It's retarded really and the fact that we think we are an advanced civilization is laughable at this point.

I don't claim to have all the answers and my soapbox is relatively small.  I am only one person but I feel strongly that many others feel the same way as I do.  I have to believe it anyways.  Their voices are not heard, however, because they aren't clogging up the airways with their empty solutions.  Somewhere along the way, they were taught (or in my case, painfully recognized) that they had to climb off the hamster wheel and take the necessary steps towards being happy.  They had that lightbulb moment where they took responsibility for their own happiness and stopped being angry that others weren't supplying it for them.  They realized that happiness wasn't merely a destination but rather a state of mind and something that you worked for each day.  They had to strive to contribute to society in a meaningful way, work hard to keep their families together and raise their children to be self reliant beings who would someday contribute to society in a positive way.  They accepted that it would be no easy feat...but the things that are of the utmost importance rarely are.  A principle we seem to have forgotten.

Our children have to work for nothing.  They never receive the satisfaction of striving towards and achieving something.  It used to be that children woke up and did chores until school started then came home and finished them up before dinner.  They were too busy to whine and bellyache about life being unfair.  I realize that that was a million years ago but the fact is, those children didn't have the time to plot the deaths of others or build resentment.    Our children waste hours and days and weekends in their rooms on their phones and computers and never actually DO a thing.   The end result is sad and empty kids who don't have the tools to understand that the fact they sit on their asses all day and hyper focus on themselves is the very reason they are miserable.  Professionals have said that these mass murders/suicides can take months or even up to years to plot and plan.  I mean who has the time for that?  Our children do and that is a problem.

Gone are the days of working hard for our reward.  We are a generation of  people who want what we want the minute we want it....and because we can afford it, we usually get it.  We have handicapped our children merely by our example.   I could hardly bear the mommy groups when my children were young.  I would go to the park and could not strike up a conversation with another adult before their child would walk in between us and start spatting out noise without so much as the recognition that their mothers were talking.  What bothered me more was that the mothers hardly seemed to notice that they were being incessantly interrupted and were catering to every event that transpired throughout their kids play date.  I could not bear it and found it to be absurd.  I stopped going.  I developed a system with my kids early on.  I would see them coming towards me and without breaking eye contact during conversation would hold up one finger.  They were not to say a word until I gave them the go ahead.  By the age of 3, my children understood this simple concept.  The first lesson being that interrupting is rude and the second that the world did not revolve around them.  Fundamentals that seem to have been lost.   I remember walking up to my mother and standing for sometimes 15 minutes before she even turned to address me.  At times, I would grow impatient and decide that what I wanted to tell her wasn't that important and go back to playing.  

Newsflash.  I survived.

I don't believe that the answer to these horrific attacks is gun control, video games, or violence.  While they may play a significant role, there is no one thing that can bear the blame for such barbaric actions.  These are simply scapegoats for a much bigger problem and it's easier to finger point than accept personal responsibility and possibly accept that as a society we are contributing to this problem.

From the beginning of time, there have been crazy people and mass murders.  Other countries experience events such as these on a daily basis.  We just don't like when it happens to us.  We are supposed to be more civilized and it pisses us off when we are faced with the reality that we aren't.

As parents we stand in line for hours to acquire the latest video games that make the villain the hero as he blows away people for points.  The more people you kill, the higher the score.  We pay to see movies where actors are exploited, raped, beaten, shot...we watch while shoveling popcorn into our mouths and hesitate to sneak out for a Dr. Pepper because we might miss the good part.  We call it quits on our marriages when things get complicated and start the cycle of weekend mom and dads.  Meanwhile,  our kids are going through tough times and we're not around them enough to even notice.  If we are fortunate enough to get every family member around the dinner table (with McDonald's rather than a home cooked meal), 4 out of 5 people will be on their cell phones.

I once heard the phrase "people do what they want to do".  I believe this to be true.  It's amazing how many things I can move around to do something I want to do and how quickly I can bail on something that sounds less than enticing.  We commit adultery because we are too weak to say no.  We cave in and let our kids off the hook when they've done wrong.  We jump aboard the gossip train and smear peoples names because we aren't capable of holding our tongue.  We do what we want to do because it's easier than doing what's right.  It seems to be that there are only a handful of us left who were taught that instant gratification is rarely gratifying...a lesson that is more times than not, learned the hard way. It has grown increasingly evident to me that these people are being extinguished and if we do not teach our children to think about others and encourage (force if we must) them to connect with others, then we as a society and as a country are doomed.

But how can we teach our children to connect with others when we too are disconnected?  Simple.
We have to change... 

I do not deny that mental illness is a very real thing.  So is evil.  There will always be isolated events and it's disheartening to accept that fact but it is what it is.  Regardless of mental illness or evil behavior, those who inflict harm upon another human being are acting from the selfish stand point of "I matter.  You don't".  Sound familiar?

While we shutter to think that we are being compared to a cold blooded killer, the fact is we all fire weapons every day.  We honk our horns, we cut in lines, we make snide remarks.  The list goes on and one. While we may not take the life of another, in our quest for self importance are we hurting others or breaking our children's spirits?  I'll be the first to admit that my tongue is a sharp weapon and in my weaker moments, I have used it to inflict harm on another.  More times than I care to admit, I will greet my children after an 8 hour school day with "you wore THAT to school today"? rather than a tender smile and question of "how was your day"?  

We ask how someone could possibly strap on a bullet proof vest and walk into an elementary school using 6 and 7 year olds as targets.  In the case of the Sandy Hook shooter,  I think it's safe to assume that he was insane.  I believe, however, that the answer on both past and future events is one word. 

Disconnect.

We speak of being connected to one another.  We have Twitter and facebook and 24 hour news channels that keep us so connected that we miss the water boiling over on the stove.  We are so connected to our best friend Bambi and what she ate for lunch that we miss when our child walks through the door with a look of sadness on his face.  We miss the moments to connect with our spouses, our children, our neighbors and miss the teaching opportunities that come from just talking (not texting), but talking with one another.  Asking meaningful questions and then sitting patiently while they answer.

When these mass shootings take place we try to climb inside the heads of these psychos and analyze the how and why's of their behavior.  My hell...does it even matter?  If I was the parent of one of those slain children, I wouldn't give a rats ass about the shooter and his story.  It's done.  What can we do?

We can stop stomping around bitching about guns and media coverage and address the elephant in the room...how could ANYONE (mentally ill or not) look into the eyes of a terrified six year old and shoot them not once but multiple times?   We do not have a gun problem people, we have a morality problem.

And we are ALL responsible.

We can no longer turn a blind eye to the lack of empathy that our society and our youth have for one another.  We can no longer accept that our children have tons of friends because they spend hours in their rooms chatting with strangers on their phones.  We have to ask the hard questions...If you have 523 friends on facebook then why are you sitting home both Friday and Saturday night?  It is not normal and it's time that we face it head on.  If you see your children disconnecting then it's time to reconnect with them.

I started out with good intentions and habits with my children and admit that I too got complacent.  I used to pose questions around the dinner table such as "what was the best part of your day"?  Even the most sour pussed teenager would perk up and tell me some silly story or event that had transpired that day.   I recently spent hours (yes hours) in the room of one of my children asking questions that would sometimes be answered after 15 minutes of silence.   I asked questions such as "what are the 2 hardest things in your life right now"?  "if you could change 1 thing about yourself, what would it be"?  "what are 3 things that get you really excited"?  I grew irritated at his hesitation to answer when it occurred to me that he didn't know the answers to these questions.  No one asks anyone about themselves anymore and he seemed surprised that I was even interested.  I purposely left my cell phone in the other room knowing that I too would be distracted if god forbid, it were my turn to go on Words With Friends.  I took the time to talk to my child and to be honest, there was more silence than talking.  At times it was painful.  In the end...it was worth it.

"If you want your children to turn out well, spend twice as much time with them and half the money".

                                                                                     -Abigail Van Buren

Over the past several days, I have adopted some of my old habits and reminded myself that the time I spend teaching my children to value others feelings or even their mere existence is never wasted.  Last night I encouraged my ever so shy 16 year old to put himself out there and pay a compliment to someone in each of his classes.  This morning while driving my 9 year old to school, I challenged her to learn 3 things about the girl she sits with on the bus.  For whatever reason, she does not enjoy this girls company and rather than make a fuss and request that the bus driver move her, I am encouraging my daughter to learn more about this girl and am confident that through the process, she will grow to like her.  This afternoon, my middle son introduced himself to our new neighbors (with NO prompting from me) and my children spent the evening playing with her small children in the backyard while she unpacked.  

No one is born a killer.  We all come into this world innocent and our life events shape who become.  Let us look outside of ourselves and into the eyes of those around us.  Let us be aware when someone is hurting or needs a friend.  Let us give compliments freely and offer words of encouragement.  The fact is that we have no idea what those around us are struggling with...let us give them the benefit of the doubt.  Let us bear one another's burdens and mourn with those who mourn.   Let's stop telling ourselves that we can't make a difference or that the little things don't matter.   

I believe that in the end, the little things are going to be what matter the most.


"Unless someone like you cares a whole lot, nothing is going to get better...it's not".

                        -The Lorax

Doubt...

"In life we do things.  Some we wish we had never done.  Some we wish we could replay a million times in our heads.  But they all make us who we are, and in the end they shape every detail about us.  If we were to reverse any of them we wouldn't be the person we are.  So just live.  Make mistakes.  Have wonderful memories.  But never second guess who you are, were you have been, and most importantly, where it is you're going".


Words to live by.

I haven't blogged in quite some time.  Over the past few weeks, several friends have asked me why I haven't been writing and I chose to believe them when they said that they missed it.

Optimism...it's kinda my new thing:)

The past several years have brought about mighty changes.  I feel whole for the first time in my life.  While I deviated from my original course,  it seems to have served me well.  That being said, I still second guess myself.  I tend to over think things ... always have.  I vividly remember  school shopping with my mother as a child and spending a half an hour mulling over which color shirt to buy.  It drove her crazy.  Years later when I find my daughter doing the same,  I want to stick a hot poker in my eye.  Doubt, even in the smallest of ways,  can consume us and make us feel insecure in our choices.

Doubt ... I hate it.

I bathed in a vat of negativity for a few years.  Looking back, I realize that I wasn't really negative but rather deeply sad and didn't know how to see the good in anything.  I prayed and stewed and stressed and finally learned to trust my gut (who knew my gut was good for anything)?  I climbed out of that vat and now seem to be the exact opposite ... overly happy.  Don't ask. Not even I get it, but I'm not fighting it.  Feeling happy is a good thing and after all I've gone through, I refuse to question joy. I'll take it thank you very much.

Matthew and I were driving to dinner the other night and somewhere in the conversation, I commented on how happy I was.  He blurted out "YOU ARE"???  Clearly, he didn't view me as happy.  The fact he choked on his drink when I said it may have been the deciding factor.  His reaction made me second guess my happiness (stupid doubt).  It occurred to me that if you are truly happy, you ought to share it with those around you.  Was I happiness hoarder?  Perhaps.  Oh well, live and learn I guess ...

Throughout my childhood and early adulthood, I lived for others approval.  I realized (later than I would have liked) that no one really cares about my happiness.  People are consumed by their own lives and really don't have the time to ponder my happiness.  Furthermore,  we are all going to be judged by others regardless of our actions.  We might as well as choose what makes us happy.  I am in no way suggesting that we do whatever we want, whenever we want but rather that we know what is good for us.  We must trust our guts and do what makes us feel good.   While many would consider this selfish ... I have come to consider it sane.  Overcoming my insecurities about what others think of me has been the single greatest thing I have ever, EVER, done.  Go on ... read that  again.  I don't feel like re-writing it but it is truth and has changed me for the better.

 I have concluded that I am going to be happy ... it's good for my health,  my state of mind, and those around me.

I have always been a straight shooter.  I have a horrible poker face and if you don't know how I feel about you ten minutes after meeting me ... you're an idiot.  I call it like I see it and perhaps that is why some might question my declaration of happiness.  I have always considered perpetually happy people to be phony.  No one has a good day every day.  If you do, than I would like the name of your doctor and the medication that he is prescribing you.    I mean,  SERIOUSLY.

As suspicious as  I am of overly happy people, negative people can suck the life right out of you.  I should know, I was one.    It has been my experience that those who have everything to whine about ... simply don't.  At the same time,  I have met people who have everything and manage to complain about the lumps in the cloud they are sitting on.  Everyone has something to be grateful for.  Most of us have MUCH to grateful for.    Happiness is a choice ...  through much struggle, I have learned this.

So I fall somewhere in the middle.  Happy but not delusional.  Realistic, but not negative.

I remember the second job I had when we moved to Las Vegas.  I worked at a shoe store.  Right up my alley you say?  Not quite.  This dump sold sensible shoes ... or as I like to call them "I've given up on life shoes".  It was a crappy job but I loved the girls I worked with so I stayed.  Vegas was the first place that I lived away from home.  It was my first experience using all the tools that I had been raised with.  My insane and annoying boss Jim spoke to me on numerous occasions about my "attitude".   I remember resenting these discussions and found him to be quite condescending.  I found him to be phony and his attempt to be happy all the time was an outward struggle.  It was visibly hard for him and at the ripe old age of 18 saw right through it.   Having had a great relationship with my co-workers and realizing that I was incapable of sitting through yet another lecture, I finally explained my "attitude".

 I would take day to day irritations that upset most and look for the funny in them ... in doing this, I avoided getting angry.   I would then come into work and tell a story (most of the time an exaggerated one) and turn my irritation into a comedy act.  It was my coping mechanism and more importantly made for a good time at work.  I also expressed that I would rather get minor annoyances out of my system and move on  than to be suspiciously happy and then excuse myself to chuck a shoe (a sensibly ugly shoe at that) at a wall in the stock room.

Crickets.  He never lectured me again.

I am pleased to report that having survived the past several years, my perspective has changed and yet my personality has not.  My humor (as offensive as it may be) is my weapon of choice and if you knock it...I'll cut you -

While I once feared sounding like a broken record, the fact is that we learn from our personal trials.   It is normal to speak of our experiences as we attempt to feel our way through.  I have known friends and family who exhausted topics of divorce, death, and financial issues as they muddled through their life lessons.  As newlyweds,  we became friends with a particular couple and the woman's alarming honesty made me both love her and at the same time,  question her abilities as a mother.  She spoke honestly about less enjoyable parts of motherhood that were draining and I clutched my newborn vowing that I would never say such things.  Years later, I recognize my ignorance and so value her straight forwardness.  Shortly after we met, she ended up adopting a young boy who had been born into a rather dysfunctional family.  Having had some minor issues,    she took him in and loved him like he was her own.  I believe firmly that her ability to let off steam is what gave her the strength to mother not only her own kids but someone else's as well.

I have come to realize that everyone I meet has something to teach me and as a young mother, I learned much from this friend.  Never mind that I haven't spoken to her in twelve years.  I think of her fondly now.  So here I go... It just wouldn't be me if I didn't let off a little steam of my own:)

   Kids.  The greatest blessing and biggest buzz kill of all times.  May I go there?  It's my blog so I'm going to go there.  Read on, run away, whatever you wish.  My blogs will someday be left to my children so they can get inside my head ... poor little things.

 Over the past few years, I have found myself standing in a circle of three types of people.
- Those who have no children.
- Those who have small children and are still smitten with the tiny miracles they are.
- Those who have two sets of fully functioning grandparents who live to come over and take the kids away every weekend so they can spoil them rotten ( all the while giving mom and dad a chance to catch their breath)

I am none of these people and I want to hate the people in my circle.  But I can't.  I like too many of them and can't resent what they have or don't yet know.  We are all here to lean on and learn from each other and how boring would life be if we were all the same?  No thank  you.

 I am standing in the middle of the circle in my bathrobe with kids chattering incessantly.  I am murmuring obscenities to myself like a crazy person  ...  I myself may even be wearing sensible shoes.  I was a rockstar for quite some time.  I coasted through the first decade of children without so much as a break.  Oh wait ... I didn't take them to my parent's funerals... does that count?  Well, my rockstar period is over and I feel like I finally understand the term bat shit crazy.  Is there a support group for women of children who want desperately to live normal lives?  I see middle aged women with bad roots sporting mom jeans and tennis shoes in the grocery store.  They push empty carts and appear to be jacked up on Prozac exchanging glances with one another as if to say "I hear you sister ... I used to wear make - up too".   Is this where they hold their meetings?

Up until this point I have maintained a rock solid marriage, gone out on dates with my husband and friends and stayed relatively up on fashion.  That being said...I walk in the door and am bombarded by the needs of my children.  Who I love.  Dearly.  More times than not, I want to turn around and walk right back out the door.  It is hard to be needed and yet I know that it must be even harder to NOT be needed.  Make no mistake about it, I recognize the blessing in being needed.

Don't go calling defax just yet.  I adore my children.  I love each one individually and relish their personalities.  They make me laugh and I feel a wicked sense of satisfaction when I see them do good or use sarcasm correctly.  I am in awe of how much they resemble both Matt and I and at the same time marvel at how they differ from us.  It astounds me.    If I had an ounce of free time, I might sit and ponder how incredible they are...but I haven't had free time in about fifteen years...so forget that.

When my children were babies, I dressed them up like show ponies and paraded their cute little butts around to show off.  They became school age and one by one, I sent them off to kindergarten and volunteered in their classrooms because I simply couldn't stay away.  I sang songs, read books, and wiped tears ... I was a good mom.  I recall a business dinner that Matt and I had with an associate years ago and Matt spoke of me as though I wasn't there.  He spoke of what an amazing mother I was and gushed over how lucky our children were to have me.  I sat back and inhaled the words.  To this day, it is the greatest compliment I have ever received.  Ever.  Perhaps it just meant the most.

Who knows...

Fast forward ten years and I am reminded (by doubt no less) that I am anything but a good mom.  The kids are older now  (16, 13, and 9) and the only thing they need from me is money, a ride somewhere, and someone to argue with.  My baby is like a second skin and follows me around like she fears she may lose me somewhere in the kitchen.  She talks about anything and everything and if I look remotely uninterested, her little face lets me know how hurt she is.  I remained in bed for an hour this morning knowing that if she heard me wake up, she'd be in my room in a millisecond.  My desire for peace and quiet outweighed my desire to get up and pee.  I am exhausted on a level that I couldn't have possibly understood had I not arrived here myself.  Mental and emotional exhaustion.  I get it now.   I am grateful for this lesson because when others once spoke of this, I had assumed that they were crazy.

They were.

There have been many seasons in my life and I have survived, not to mention, learned from them all.  To date, mothering adolescents has by far been the biggest challenge of my life.  It has also been the most rewarding.   In being true to who I am and remaining my brutally honest self, I am here to report that this is hard stuff.  I think of the hard times that I have experienced before.  This is different.  Not only are they annoying (did I mention that I love them? Dearly)?  I worry so intensely about whether or not I am doing right by them that it keeps me up at night.  I stress over their schools.  Their friends.  Their character traits and if I am equipping them for life.  Matt and I lie awake nights and discuss the kids until we fall asleep and I wonder if I'll ever have spontaneous sex on the kitchen island again.  Oh who I am kidding?  We've never had spontaneous sex on the kitchen island.  For starters, my entire kitchen has windows.

You get my point.  Where was I?

I was the baby of six kids and my mother appeared to have it all together.  I vividly remember one argument she had with my father and I saw her LOSE IT ... to the point that it scared me.  ONE TIME in 18 years (and he was a pain in the ass...a wonderfully funny talented pain in the ass).  My sister and I fought incessantly (worse than my boys do) and yet she never seemed to lose control in the midst of our hair pulling.  We are now quite good friends.  Go figure.

 I have to believe that my mother cried herself to sleep a time or two.  I have to believe that she gave serious consideration to sneaking off at night to travel the world and be anything other than a mother.   I have to believe that she looked at my father on occasion and pondered if she made the right choice.  I have to believe that it wasn't nearly as easy as she made it look.

 I will never know so I have to believe ...

A parents love.  Does it ever fade or am I emotionally bound for life?  I feel like I am suffocating by my desire for freedom and my inability to let go and take a few steps back from the human beings that call me mom.  When they were little, I had room for error.  The older they get, I am faced with how little time we actually have to mold them into who they are meant to be.  It consumes me ...
These not so little people make my head and heart hurt daily.   Would they survive if I let go just a little?  Would I?

Doubt....Freaking hate it.