I know a lot of women who think they're married to the best man on the planet. Well ladies, I know that I really am married to the BEST! If you'd told me as a freshman in college that my future husband was, at the time, a freshman in high school, I might have barfed. Gross! But, it's true. My darling is 4 years my junior. It surprised me when were dating that I was so attracted to him. I'm the youngest of 6 girls and growing up I always identified better with people older than me. So to find my soul mate in someone that much younger than me was a pleasant surprise.
When we were newlyweds, I was training for my 1st marathon- something I'd dreamed of doing for years. My husband loves sports, but is not a runner. Not at all. No way. Don't even think about it. Despite that, he wanted to be supportive. So he rode the bike with me during a handful of my long Saturday runs. Until he ran into a mailbox. Yes, you read that right. We had a speedometer on the bike and I had asked him to tell me how fast I was going. He would go back and forth from glancing at the speedometer, to looking to see if he was totally in step with me. And then before I knew it, he was not at my side anymore. He'd managed to run into the only mailbox out on the edge of the sidewalk for at least a mile. His hand was bloody and I think he left a dent in that poor, metal, mailbox. Since we were only a few miles in to my run I refused to turn around and head for home. The man actually stayed with me through the whole run! Was he annoyed? You betcha! But, he still stuck with me. He didn't ride with me on my long training runs much more after that. I've never blamed him.
In the years since, he's been at every marathon finish line, except one (have you ever been at a marathon finish line and you're not a participant? talk about booooooring! and he brought the kiddos once they had joined our little clan). In my athletic pursuits he's always let me do what I want and figure out for myself when I've done too much or given myself unrealistic goals. He's been my sports psychologist when my multiple attempts to get into the Boston Marathon have been foiled. He's let me cry on his shoulder when my hips have been in pain for so long I just can't take it anymore. He massages my feet, does the dishes when I'm at work (I work a swing shift), buys me flowers "just because" sometimes because he knows I love them. He always remembers my birthday and usually gets the kids in on doing something fun and surprising for me. He's never been remotely bothered by my absolutely hideous varicose veins or my small bra cup size. In the past few months as I've had to face the fast-upcoming demise of a loved sister. He's listened to me rant and tries to offer words or comfort. He tries to understand when I have random moments when I miss my deceased father very acutely. We've talked about how all this crap in life might fit into God's Plan.
And, did I mention he's in law enforcement? He's a parole officer and therefore deals with people who have serious problems and are literally menaces to society. He comes home emotionally and mentally wiped out. Every. Single. Day. I see the toll his job has on him. He often needs to de-escalate. But instead of choosing something destructive like alcohol or pornography, he plays basketball and video games (and even with these, he uses a lot of scrutiny in choosing which games to purchase so they're at least somewhat clean). All this makes me love him even more. That he is able to be such a loving and steady husband and father, regardless of what his current profession is, blows my mind. I did indeed marry up.
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
Monday, May 28, 2018
Outta Control
Is there anyone out there who disagrees when I say that cancer sucks? I sure hope not. Yes, my son has leukemia, but he'll successfully end his battle months from now. However, my oldest sister (16 years my senior) is currently dying from complications of stage IV pancreatic cancer. I wish there were words to describe how my heart sinks and literally hurts every time I think of her current suffering. She looks like a concentration camp victim- emaciated, distended abdomen, sunken eyes, rag on her head. Only a shadow of her vibrant, very classy, compassionate, and strong self remains. She can hardly eat. Talking takes too much energy. Visitors wear her out. Nowadays she hardly gets up to walk around the room. She's in pain a lot of the time. She's on so many medications that her speech is slightly slurred. THIS BLOWS!
So often I have asked the question, "Why?!" Tragedy is not new to the human experience whether it be sickness, trauma, sudden fatality, cruelty, etc. And yet, it all looks so different when it's happening to someone else. And then it's your turn.
I think we as humans are naturally curious and automatically desire answers. We want to hold someone or something accountable for all that is messed up in this world. We crave purpose and meaning, especially when our lives explode. But how can we explain it all away? Does there have to be a reason why my son has cancer, why my sister has to die in her early 50's? Do I need to know this very second? Is it in my best interest to have the whole answer right now?
In my typical human reaction to both my son's initial diagnosis and watching my sister suffer, I have been angry. Very angry. At God. At Life. At myself for not handling things "perfectly" (whatever that means). But, I get to choose if I stay angry. No one or nothing is *making* me mad. I'm the only one who has power to choose my attitude. Am I suggesting I sweep all my anguish, mourning, sorrow, etc. under the rug? No. That's unhealthy and I can say from previous experience, it will only come back later in the form of an ugly monster. I am, however, proposing that we find a way to work through all these powerful and difficult emotions. Move them. Understand them. Learn about yourself in the process. And then, probably the most difficult thing of all, get outside of yourself. Yep, go do something for someone else. Nothing else has the power to change perspective and attitude.
Now this last suggestion may seem incongruous and downright outlandish. I know. I've often been in the wallows of sorry and self-pitty that the mere idea of doing something for someone else (we're talking something as simple as reading my toddler a story or getting him a drink of water) feels like wading through sludge. The initial inertia that must be overcome feels like climbing Mt. Everest. We've got to do it anyway.
One of the hardest days at the oncology clinic with my son ended with me doing some scheduled volunteer work. It made my day. The difficulties of my son's chemotherapy treatment that day were still a reality and still hurt, but the sting was softened by the joy of lightening someone else's load.
So even when Life royally sucks, cry, scream into that pillow, throw things, get yourself a punching bag, whatever you gotta do. And then, get up. Wipe the tears from your eyes. Clean up your mess, and go lift someone else's hands that hang down. See the good. Be the good. Learn. Grow. Be better because of your sufferings. It's grueling, and the change is painstakingly slow, but it's possible. Don't let inertia and circumstance determine who you become. YOU decide.
So often I have asked the question, "Why?!" Tragedy is not new to the human experience whether it be sickness, trauma, sudden fatality, cruelty, etc. And yet, it all looks so different when it's happening to someone else. And then it's your turn.
I think we as humans are naturally curious and automatically desire answers. We want to hold someone or something accountable for all that is messed up in this world. We crave purpose and meaning, especially when our lives explode. But how can we explain it all away? Does there have to be a reason why my son has cancer, why my sister has to die in her early 50's? Do I need to know this very second? Is it in my best interest to have the whole answer right now?
In my typical human reaction to both my son's initial diagnosis and watching my sister suffer, I have been angry. Very angry. At God. At Life. At myself for not handling things "perfectly" (whatever that means). But, I get to choose if I stay angry. No one or nothing is *making* me mad. I'm the only one who has power to choose my attitude. Am I suggesting I sweep all my anguish, mourning, sorrow, etc. under the rug? No. That's unhealthy and I can say from previous experience, it will only come back later in the form of an ugly monster. I am, however, proposing that we find a way to work through all these powerful and difficult emotions. Move them. Understand them. Learn about yourself in the process. And then, probably the most difficult thing of all, get outside of yourself. Yep, go do something for someone else. Nothing else has the power to change perspective and attitude.
Now this last suggestion may seem incongruous and downright outlandish. I know. I've often been in the wallows of sorry and self-pitty that the mere idea of doing something for someone else (we're talking something as simple as reading my toddler a story or getting him a drink of water) feels like wading through sludge. The initial inertia that must be overcome feels like climbing Mt. Everest. We've got to do it anyway.
One of the hardest days at the oncology clinic with my son ended with me doing some scheduled volunteer work. It made my day. The difficulties of my son's chemotherapy treatment that day were still a reality and still hurt, but the sting was softened by the joy of lightening someone else's load.
So even when Life royally sucks, cry, scream into that pillow, throw things, get yourself a punching bag, whatever you gotta do. And then, get up. Wipe the tears from your eyes. Clean up your mess, and go lift someone else's hands that hang down. See the good. Be the good. Learn. Grow. Be better because of your sufferings. It's grueling, and the change is painstakingly slow, but it's possible. Don't let inertia and circumstance determine who you become. YOU decide.
Monday, May 14, 2018
New Blog 1
I'm am perfectionist. There. I said it. I'm also the mom of 3 boys. Sounds like a contradiction, right? To be a mom and a perfectionist? You're right. It is. I get myself in a lot of needless trouble. It's *fun.*
When pregnant with my first, as most of us parents, I "knew" what kind of mom I'd be- perfect, naturally. Well, let's rewind a bit. There was a period of time I didn't want to be a mom. I was terrified. It looked way too hard. This was shortly after I'd watched my sister's 4 children while she and her husband went to London for about a week. I was graduated from college and well capable of such a task, but I walked away from that experience in awe at the daily juggling act my sister kept up. "Forget it," I told myself. "I can't do that."
Later I somehow knew becoming a mother was in the cards for me. I hadn't met my husband yet, but deep down I knew that was in God's plan for me. How could I bring a child into this world unwanted? That happens too often as it is. So I prayed. A lot. After some time my desires changed. I wanted to be a mom.
After marrying the best man on the planet, that desire amplified. Our oldest arrived after we'd been married 2 1/2 years. And then began my own juggling act. Did I mention I've never officially learned how to juggle?
Now, almost 9 years later, I've learned and grown more than I thought possible. 2 more boys joined our pack (ages 6 and 3). Most days I feel like a big hot mess (my husband's response to this, "At least you're still hot!" yep, he's the bomb). Every day is a new adventure at navigating wrestling matches gone awry, spilled milk AGAIN, changing diapers, remembering medications, trying hard not to get in power struggles with my oldest (he is a negotiator and it better make him lots of money some day!), and deciding what's for dinner. Add the fact that I work as a Microbiologist part time and we have a recipe for one tired mama. What would I trade? Nothing. Well, I take that back, if anyone wants to give me money, I'll take it. Buuuuut if I had to give up anything I mentioned above for money, not on your life!
Even if our oldest has leukemia. He'll thankfully be done with treatment this coming fall. It will have been a 3 year and 4 month battle. We have grown in ways we wouldn't trade for anything. Experience is the most powerful teacher. Does is royally suck sometimes? More than I can ever put into words. I have shaken my fists at the Heavens, I have used profanity (I was taught that swearing is really bad), I have fallen to my knees in weariness multiple times, I have been so tired and shocked that tears are impossible. And yet, I'm still breathing. And my children still, shockingly, love me. All this is part of my personal, Motherly, journey. Why I have been asked to experience what I have? I'm not sure. I'm also not sure that's the point or the best question to ask. All I know is these are ways I'm being proven, tested, stretched. I'm learning about myself. I'm learning what I'm made of. God already knows. I now get to find out. It's messy and ugly, a lot, but it's 100% my life.
What being a mom of my 3 sons will look like in the future, what challenges we'll face, whether or not the cancer returns, what squabbles I'll try to ignore tomorrow, I can't say. But this I do know, I'm irreplaceable to my children. I'm their ONLY Mom. No one else can or ought to do my job. And so, even if it includes catching barf in the car with one hand (10 minutes from home on a long car ride), trips to the ER with a febrile cancer child, rescuing my fearless toddler from the deep end of the pool, and dealing with a moody kindergartner, there's no place I'd rather be. It may seem thankless, but there's something divine to this thing we call Motherhood. And that trumps all the glory, fame, and riches the world could offer.
When pregnant with my first, as most of us parents, I "knew" what kind of mom I'd be- perfect, naturally. Well, let's rewind a bit. There was a period of time I didn't want to be a mom. I was terrified. It looked way too hard. This was shortly after I'd watched my sister's 4 children while she and her husband went to London for about a week. I was graduated from college and well capable of such a task, but I walked away from that experience in awe at the daily juggling act my sister kept up. "Forget it," I told myself. "I can't do that."
Later I somehow knew becoming a mother was in the cards for me. I hadn't met my husband yet, but deep down I knew that was in God's plan for me. How could I bring a child into this world unwanted? That happens too often as it is. So I prayed. A lot. After some time my desires changed. I wanted to be a mom.
After marrying the best man on the planet, that desire amplified. Our oldest arrived after we'd been married 2 1/2 years. And then began my own juggling act. Did I mention I've never officially learned how to juggle?
Now, almost 9 years later, I've learned and grown more than I thought possible. 2 more boys joined our pack (ages 6 and 3). Most days I feel like a big hot mess (my husband's response to this, "At least you're still hot!" yep, he's the bomb). Every day is a new adventure at navigating wrestling matches gone awry, spilled milk AGAIN, changing diapers, remembering medications, trying hard not to get in power struggles with my oldest (he is a negotiator and it better make him lots of money some day!), and deciding what's for dinner. Add the fact that I work as a Microbiologist part time and we have a recipe for one tired mama. What would I trade? Nothing. Well, I take that back, if anyone wants to give me money, I'll take it. Buuuuut if I had to give up anything I mentioned above for money, not on your life!
Even if our oldest has leukemia. He'll thankfully be done with treatment this coming fall. It will have been a 3 year and 4 month battle. We have grown in ways we wouldn't trade for anything. Experience is the most powerful teacher. Does is royally suck sometimes? More than I can ever put into words. I have shaken my fists at the Heavens, I have used profanity (I was taught that swearing is really bad), I have fallen to my knees in weariness multiple times, I have been so tired and shocked that tears are impossible. And yet, I'm still breathing. And my children still, shockingly, love me. All this is part of my personal, Motherly, journey. Why I have been asked to experience what I have? I'm not sure. I'm also not sure that's the point or the best question to ask. All I know is these are ways I'm being proven, tested, stretched. I'm learning about myself. I'm learning what I'm made of. God already knows. I now get to find out. It's messy and ugly, a lot, but it's 100% my life.
What being a mom of my 3 sons will look like in the future, what challenges we'll face, whether or not the cancer returns, what squabbles I'll try to ignore tomorrow, I can't say. But this I do know, I'm irreplaceable to my children. I'm their ONLY Mom. No one else can or ought to do my job. And so, even if it includes catching barf in the car with one hand (10 minutes from home on a long car ride), trips to the ER with a febrile cancer child, rescuing my fearless toddler from the deep end of the pool, and dealing with a moody kindergartner, there's no place I'd rather be. It may seem thankless, but there's something divine to this thing we call Motherhood. And that trumps all the glory, fame, and riches the world could offer.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)