journey of thanks

As Thanksgiving approaches I find myself both saddened and overjoyed. This year more than any other has a complex set of emotions attached. It is a year of firsts in many ways.

This year, the day before Thanksgiving, will mark 30 years of the passing of someone I never met yet have always felt a kinship to. My grandfather died less than a month before I was born. I never had the chance to get one of his hugs, or hear him play his organ, or even know very much about him...until this year.

As a child the only thing I had was his obituary that had been placed in my baby book. I removed it from the book and kept it instead in my nightstand. It is still something that to this day stays in my nightstand. It has always served as a connection to someone I wish I had known and have loved always.

When things in my life became difficult that piece of paper became something I would reach for in the hopes it would be enough to help make sense of things. It became more than just a piece of paper.

It's difficult to find yourself longing for a connection with someone who is no longer alive. Through my youth I tried many times to find out more about this man with no success. I quickly learned that his passing was a very sad subject and something I shouldn't bring up. Granted when anyone looses their father at a mere 51 years of age it would be hard not to be saddened by the realization of all that has been missed.

Each year during the month of November I think of him and when possible make a trip to the cemetery to pay my respects to someone I don't know. I cry every time I go there. I cry now as I write this. I held on to this man so much as a child that it seems impossible that I never knew him. I'm beginning to learn about my grandfather because of one of his daughters, my aunt.

This year I have found myself with family I never thought I would have or that would mean so much to me. My family finds itself in a position it has never been before. It has been a year of new beginnings and a parting with the past.

For the first time in my almost 30 years of life I find myself with parental figures who I could ask any question and get an answer. People who have shown me what love from a parent should look like and what it means to "show up" for someone and what life can be like without unnecessary drama.

They have truly saved my life this year. They have added meaning to my life, helped fill a void I never thought was possible, and no matter how dark or dreary the day they are there waiting, willing, wanting to help, comfort, and love not only myself but my husband and children as well. They have accepted us with open arms and keep asking for more.

Yes, I question their sanity from time to time because of all this but each time I am met with nothing but love and acceptance. I even fight against this love and acceptance sometimes. Even then I am met with more love and acceptance.

This year I won't make that walk in the cemetery alone. This year I won't cry alone or feel the loss alone. And while the feelings will be ones of sadness I find myself even more grateful to Grandpap. For he has helped shape his daughter into someone I hold very dear, someone I wouldn't want to go a day without talking to, and someone who is willing to put up with a lot of crap and continue showing up. He helped bring us together. He helped make us family in every sense of the word.

This year as my children, husband, and I create new traditions for the holidays I find myself very grateful for those I call family. I'm thankful to all of them because they have helped me get to where I am today. They have allowed for growth and an understanding of what I want and don't want in life. They have taught me to accept the good and deal with the bad.

Life is a journey, one we don't take alone...even when we try.

This year more than any other I'm thankful for my children and my husband who put up with my craziness whether they wish to or not...and love me in spite of it. I'm thankful for the acceptance, guidance, and love from my aunt and uncle who are much more than an aunt and uncle.

To Sean, Erin, Ireland, Michael, Conor, Paula, Howard & the rest of my family: Thanks for helping me make the most of the good and the least of the bad, even when you didn't know you were doing so.

Have a wonderful holiday and enjoy your family...even the bad apples. They help us recognize and enjoy the good ones.

Making the most of the good...

In the last several months I have begun to miss this blog. Miss the time spent thinking of my children and my parenting. I miss the time I would take to look a little deeper and write about something that had meaning to me.

I'd like to say that in my absence things have increasingly gotten easier with parenting. That would be a lie. Being a parent of twins is trying, but a parent of 4 can be maddening.

Someone is always upset with another. One is always jealous of another. Everyone needs and deserves attention. Everyone is facing a challenge all their own. Yet, with four of them and only one of me those special moments of undivided attention are far and few between.

With the insight of a very dear person I came to realize that if I wanted my parenting to get better I was going to need to "build us up" and spend the extra energy to make sure even when the day was difficult those four amazing lives felt loved, and knew that no matter what would happen I would always be there for them.

It isn't easy admitting that you fall short of the expectations of yourself. There's always that pressure to be perfect. Your kids must be given just the right thing, what is socially acceptable at the moment. No more jars of baby food, good mothers make their own. No more regular diapers, good mothers use something that is "green" and Earth friendly. No more easy dinners, good mothers make sure their kids are getting all the veggies and nutrients they need. The list is endless.

Just so we are clear, by these definitions I'm a terrible mother. I never made my kids baby food, I have never used a "green" diaper, and I have been known to allow my kids to have ice-cream for dinner.

If I look at my parenting from the vantage point of this "perfect" mother I would spend lots of time punishing myself for not being perfect and as I'm trying to learn perfection is impossible.

Perfection, it's such a tricky word. Practice makes perfect...I think I heard it 1000 times growing up. I'm sure most of you are familiar with the phrase, too. We grow up thinking perfection is the goal. It isn't a goal, it isn't even realistic.

The new goal for not only myself but my children as well, is to make the most of the good and the least of the bad. This isn't easy either, but I believe it is a better destination. If worked towards it helps allow my children the opportunity to be optimists. Which is something I have never been.

I want them to see things positively, believe in miracles, and instead of instantly going to worst case scenario be able to see the good in something. I don't want them to be me. I don't want to color their view of the world to the point they've lost before they've even started.

I want my children to be able to dust themselves off after facing something bad, something difficult, and walk away feeling stronger because of it...not defeated.

I'm not entirely sure how we will reach this goal as even my humor tends to be pessimistic. However, they deserve the chance to embrace all that is possible, so I must dig deep and make sure I'm not the one holding them back.

It won't be easy, and at times it may be down right miserable (for me) but sometimes you have to be able to laugh at pain, at difficulties, and know that survival is possible.

After all, it isn't about seeing the glass half empty or full...it's about realizing that you've been given the glass in the first place. How you decide to fill it will be the story of your life.