Three Years

Hello lovelies!  Now that L is feeling better (and she has displayed that by ransacking our DVD and Xbox game collections...HA!) I can get back into the writing business.

Before today's post, I would like just to thank Amy Bowman from New Nostalgia for plugging my blog this morning!  I managed to win a $25 Target gift card from her blog and she was kind enough to plug POP for me!  Isn't she great?  Go over and check her out!  Not only is she a cancer survivor, but through that journey, she has discovered ways to live a more healthy lifestyle.  She has tons of tips on organization, health and beauty (she was a hairdresser), crafting, etc.  She is also on Pinterest! A lot of great stuff over there!  What are you waiting for?  Go check her out!  

And now onto more serious matters....

I debated on writing about the following, actually.  However, the spirit of this blog is about being real and with that, sometimes I may have to write about things that are sad.  This is one of those times.  I haven't ever written about this event before, as a matter of fact, I have hardly ever talked about it.  I am not sure why.  I don't know if it is because the whole thing was a blur or if I was more prepared for it to happen than I thought I was.  Whatever the reason may be, I am going to talk about it today, because today has been three years.

Ladies and gentlemen, this was my grandfather back in the day. (Excuse the quality, it is a picture of a picture because my scanner is nowhere near me right now.  Yes, that is laziness talking. My apologies.) 


"Where to begin?  Let's start with the end
This black and white photo never captured my skin..."
-Carbon Leaf The War Was In Color

Three years ago today, he passed away.  The story goes as such:  He went to bed, woke up one time in the middle of the night, went back to bed, and then never woke up again.  He just went to sleep and that was that.  Looking back on it, I think that may have been one of the most comforting things for me.  He didn't suffer, he just went to sleep.  He had lived a good life.  He had done things, seen things, experienced things....I have no doubt in my mind that he was satisfied with his life and the way his children and their children and, in some instances, their children, turned out.  He was old and it was his time.  

And then I think of the little girl asleep in the room down the hall and I feel my heart clench.  She never got to meet him.  She never will.  He never got to see me (finally) graduate from college or get married.  He isn't at Christmas anymore.  Our family isn't the same.  It just isn't.  At least, not for me.  

He was the only grandfather that had been around my whole young life, teen years, and into my mid-twenties.  I had a relationship with him.  My brother and I did things with him and my grandmother.  They took us places.  They brought us M&Ms, Twinkies, and let us be little.  (This is when I add that I was devastated when Twinkies disappeared from the store shelves.  It was seriously a slap in the face.  I know that may be dramatic, but hey, that was a part of my childhood.  It hurt.) 

He has been gone for three years and I can still hear my dad on the other end of the phone that early Sunday morning.  (My mother couldn't speak.  It was her father.  Sorry Mom, but I am kind of glad it was dad that called.)  My dad was very cut and dry about it.  I didn't cry on the phone, but when I hung up.....there weren't enough Kleenex in the house.

Sometimes there still isn't enough Kleenex.

Grandpa, I think you would be proud of me.  I know I am the different one.  I know that I do things and say things that other's in the family don't approve of, but I don't need or want their approval.  I have a reason and a season for the things I do and you knew that.  Always.  I take the long way around and you knew that.  You always assured Mom that I would be okay.  I AM OKAY.  I wish you could be here to see L, to play with her, and to watch her be silly.  She would make you laugh, your whole face would light up when you would laugh, and she would do the same thing.  I wish you could bring her treats and let her be little like you did me and her uncle.  I wish you weren't just a photo in a frame and stories, but alas, we all become photos in a frame and stories.  That is life and they will have to do.

"In the ash, I found an ember
Something warm to help remember
A block of wood that used to be
A strong tall family tree...

A strong tall family tree
Blowing in the breeze..."
Carbon Leaf
Block of Wood

Now...where is that box of Kleenex....?

Until next time,






It's Nice To Be Nice

There is so much to be said today, so much in fact, that I don't know where to start.  Much like the snow outside my kitchen window, thoughts and words are piling up.

Words.

Have you ever thought about actual words?  Have you ever thought about the effect they have on those around you when they come out of your mouth or through your fingers?  Have you ever thought about the damage they can do?

Yesterday I saw damaging words attached to a photo.  I was enraged, heart broken, and sick.  Those five or six words attached to the photo were deafening as they reverberated through my soul.  I heard my daughter waking up in the next room and I thought to myself, "How does this happen?  How do people become so cruel and vicious?"

The photo, those words...they followed me around all morning.  Every time I would look at my daughter, flashing back to my hand holding my phone and seeing that photo, reading those words.....I couldn't take it anymore.  I had to set an example.  "I have to do something," I thought.

I knew what I would do.

I took a stand.

I stood up with a handful of other's and declared that we would not tolerate the kind of behavior that the user displayed.  You do not treat people like trash!

I took it upon myself to notify the person that the photo and the hurtful words were against.  It was hard.  I sat at my computer for what seemed like forever, trying to find the words. Once I did, it all came pouring out of me in a flood.  I couldn't stop.  I had to make myself stop or it would have turned into a novel about the injustice that had been raised upon this person without. them. even. knowing.

That's right.

They didn't even know what had been done to them.

Sickening.

After it was all said and done, the doer of the deed was confronted and the photo (magically) disappeared.

However, what has been seen, cannot be unseen.

I, and a handful of other's, know what happened, and that is enough for me.  There are people who joined with me yesterday in a show of fellowship to another human being.  That warmed my heart on so many levels.

We are all in this together in this great big world.  While the world spins out of control around us, we have to take it back.  We have to take our world  back.  How, you ask? You start by being kind.  I don't care how broke you are, how wrong  you think your life is going, you can still be kind.

Being kind is free.

Being kind is freeing.

When you smile at a stranger, hold a door open for someone, or offer a few dollars to the person in front of you in line at the grocery store who has come up short; that's being kind.

That's how humanity comes back.

What you put out into the world, comes back to you.

Until next time,


Crying at the Kitchen Sink

One night a few weeks ago, after L had been put to bed and before E had come home from work, I was doing my nightly routine of dishes.  It had been an incredibly challenging day, one where I was standing at the kitchen sink, crying, questioning everything I did that day in regards to L.  Some days, her and I don't get along.  I knew there would be some day's where her personality and my personality would not mesh and Mommy would end up feeling defeated.  This was one of those days.

My inner monologue looked something like this:

"...Did I reprimand her correctly for continuing to stand up on the couch and the chair?  Did I comfort her enough when she fell OFF the couch and hit her head on the floor?  Is she going to be okay?  That was hours ago, but do I need to check on her here in a an hour to make sure she is breathing?  Why didn't she eat that much today?  Am I really potty training her at the right time?  She seems very interested and wants to be a big girl, but she isn't consistent.  Are people right?  Am I doing this too soon?..."

Tears, tears, tears.

And lastly, "My God, am I bad mother?  I don't want to be.  I try very hard.  This is all new to me.  I wasn't going to be a mom, now I have a daughter, and Jesus, please don't let me screw her up!"

This happens a lot at the kitchen sink.  I look at it this way:  If I cry enough and get all of this out, I can make it all go away when I am finished with the dishes when I pull the sink stopper.  Sometimes it works.  Other times, not so much.

*sigh*

Why do we do this, ladies?  Why are we so insecure about our abilities as mother's?

I posed this question on my personal Facebook page and got some really interesting answers.  Everything from parenting magazines, milestone trackers (I used to check those all the time), society in general, the media, and even our own insecurities.  Someone even stated that she believes that, "as a whole, Mom's are the most judgmental group on the planet." I tend to agree.  Have you ever been shopping with your child(ren) and seen the "other Mom" look at you as you reprimand, console, calm down, etc. your child(ren)?  Have you seen that look on her face?  It is either, "Oh girl, I get it, I have been there," or it's, "Oh my God, you are doing that totally wrong.  What the hell are you doing?" I have been met with both.  The latter is not an easy pill to swallow.  At first, I was hurt and angry that I was being judged by someone who doesn't even know me or my child!  Then, as L has gotten older and I have had more instances to deal with this kind of behavior, I let it go.  If they have nothing better to do than judge me from afar, that is their problem.  My child is my child.  I will discipline, reprimand, console, etc. how I deem fit.  You take your judging looks somewhere else.

Once I started wrapping my head around that, I was able to almost completely ignore the judging ladies at the store.  However, I am still struggling with being hard on myself.  I am constantly reminding myself of something my own mother said to me in the early stages of my pregnancy.  I was going on and on about worrying about this and that in regards to my pregnancy, raising her, etc. and she laughed and said, "I'm not worried.  If you weren't worried about all of this, then I would be worried." Every time I hear her say that in my head, I stop.  She's right.  If I didn't worry about being a bad mom, that would be a problem.  If I wasn't questioning myself, finding better ways to do things, etc. I may have something to be concerned about.

It is in my nature to be hard on myself.  I beat myself to death with school before (and after, even) L was born.  I was constantly trying to make things perfect.  I was constantly trying to think and write and explore and learn.  It was exhausting.  I drove my husband nuts.  I know I did.  I would get upset over a B on a paper because I knew I could do better.  A B is fine, but I wanted that A!  School was constantly beating my head against a wall.  It was hard, but I did it.  I did it myself, even though I almost drove myself crazy, I am proud that I graduated with the GPA I did.  I worked very hard.  I proudly display those certificates on the wall because, for the first time in my life, I finished something that I started.

I take the same approach with motherhood.  I beat myself up, I am constantly researching, learning, exploring, and thinking.  I get upset when things that I have come up with don't work.  I am still beating my head against the wall, but now it is in regards to my child.  This is motherhood.  It is one of the biggest, most important jobs in the world.  I am molding a human being here.  I am responsible for her health, well-being, education, development, morals, etc.  That's a lot!  I am still learning some of those things about myself!  I am still learning and developing.

It is all so overwhelming sometimes, so I cry at the kitchen sink.

I'm a mom.  That is what I do.  I won't ever stop.

I was granted a gift.  Someone upstairs granted me a gift.

And if I have to spend nights crying at the kitchen sink because I am overwhelmed, then that is what I will do.

Because I am L's mom.

She is my gift.

That's what mom's do.

Until next time,






Anyway

The following popped into my head this morning as I was thinking about certain things that have happened in our lives.  I always seem to remember the following poem in times of frustration, disbelief, and yes, even anger.  People are people.  They are who they are.  Very rarely do people change.  What we have to remember is that, nine times out of ten, it isn't really about you anyway, it is about themselves and their demons.  All you can do is be real, accept other's realness, and live your life wide open.

Anyway
Mother Teresa

People are often unreasonable, illogical and self centered;
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives;
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies;
Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you;
Be honest and frank anyway.
What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight;
Build anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous;
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow;
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough;
Give the world the best you've got anyway.
You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and your God;
It was never between you and them anyway.

Until next time,

Imperfect Me (Being Real)


When I started this blog, I wasn't sure how I wanted it to look, feel, say, etc.  I set out into the world wide web looking for ideas.  As I stated before, I wasn't too thrilled with what I was finding.  Why do so many people feel the need to hide, why show the world only the good side of things, or why be a hypocrite?  Seriously, it's boring and, done enough times in succession, people begin to wonder just how real you are.  They start to question your integrity.  People start to wonder things about you.  They lash out, they dig for things on you that they can use against you, they stop trusting you.  So, why not save everyone the trouble and just be REAL all the time?

The only thing I can think of is this:

It's scary.

Hey you, yea, you.  The one who just cannot fathom the idea of the world knowing you are imperfect.  I was once you.  Here is a piece of advice: Let go.

I used to worry about what people thought about me.  You know where that got me?

Depressed, unsatisfied with my life, and nowhere.

I used to be surrounded by people who I thought were my friends.  They took advantage of me.  They got angry when I fought back.  Guess where they are now?

Still living their fake lives, with their fake friends, and their fake existence.

That makes me sad.  They haven't become liberated like I have been.  They have to want it though, and clearly, they don't.  Well, okay.  If you want to live that way, okay.  I am not the one that has to look at you in the mirror every morning and face your demons.  I am not there.

I am here, enjoying every aspect of my imperfect life.  I am concentrating on being real with the people who deserve me at my best imperfect me and still love me at my worst.  I am concentrating on showing my daughter how to be real, to be herself, to embrace her uniqueness.

My journey is not over though.  I am still discovering me and how to be the best imperfect me there is.  Once you let go of being perfect, you can begin to become real.  Being real is a really great thing, you know.  It means you are honest, an open book, free.

Who doesn't want to be free?

Challenge:  For those of you that feel you may need to let go a little bit, this challenge is for you! Perhaps you feel like you are uptight in your daily life, or you are actually worried about what certain people think of you, let go just once this week.  Say something you normally wouldn't say to them or in their presence, let a house chore go for a day, let your children play longer before bedtime, let them make a mess for another minute....just let go.  Then, once you have conquered that, challenge yourself to do more.  Let it go!  Liberate yourself!  Please share your experiences here on the blog in a comment or at our Facebook community.  You can even email me!

Until next time,










Linked Up!

Hello Everyone!

I am taking a brief moment while L is napping to introduce you all to a blog I follow and gather inspiration from time to time.  Stephanie at Mama and Baby Love writes and posts wonderful things that we all need to read from time to time. At Mama and Baby love, it is all about "the ways we can nourish and love ourselves, so we can nourish and love our families." (Direct quote right there!)  Also, if you are on Pinterest, she has one of THE BEST pins on freezer cooking with slow cooker recipes!  She even has an ecookbook  for sale!

Stephanie was nice enough to allow me to plug my little space here on the word wide web, so I am doing the same for her!  Go check her out!  Tell her Sara from Plethora of Pondering's sent you!




And don't go anywhere!  I have a list of things to talk about with you all!  We are going to start getting a little deep around here.  I have some topics that have been swimming in my head for weeks.  I believe I have managed to get them all sorted out, into a nice little list, and boy, have the words been coming!  I had a really good conversation a couple of weeks ago with my dear friend K and it all started there.  We are going to discuss being real, being insecure as mothers, I am starting a new book review section of the blog (so all you book lovers like me can find great things to read), and some personal things that I feel my readers deserve to know. (That goes back to the being real post.)  How are you supposed to trust me if you don't know me, right!?  Well, you are going to!  Stay tuned!  I leave you with this, my fellow readers:



Until next time,



Followers

Follow on Bloglovin

Popular Posts

Copyright © 2012 by Sara Hallstead and A Plethora of Ponderings. Powered by Blogger.