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.

7 years

My girls turned 7 on the 17th. Hard to believe it's been that long...but then again some days it feels like it should have been 10.

You see people don't tell you parenting can suck at times, that your children aren't always going to be this unblemished ball of perfection. You aren't prepared for those moments when your children bring to your attention that you aren't the parent you set out to be. You are never ready to hear "I hate you" or "I wish I didn't live here". But they happen.

I'm not the parent I thought I would be. It would seem that some of that behavior I loathed as a child stuck with me. I sometimes yell at my kids, have to leave the room cursing, and there are days when I just don't want to be home with them.

Now please before you think I've jumped off the deep end hear me out. Admit it, there are days when you just don't want to be a parent. You can even go stretches of years in which you are in love with parenting and in love with your kids and then there are times when you just want to shake them and ask what is going on in that brain of theirs.

There are moments in which I don't like my kids very much because of something they have said or done. BUT...even when I don't like them I love them beyond measure.

It's such a tricky road we walk with our kids. We battle each day to help them become the best possible adult they can be and yet we pass along our bad habits, our outlooks, our craziness when we aren't even looking.

For the past several months, maybe even a year, my girls have been pushing the limits of my sanity. Each day seems to be a battle of wills. Hopefully, this fight is one I'm still winning. Although, some days they clearly have me waving the white flag.

The week leading up to my girls birthday they had been so disrespectful and so unwilling to listen that I felt I had no option but to begin removing toys and anything special from their room/lives. First it was Barbie, then dolls, then dress up clothes, followed by anything that was left. This series of bad events ended with tears on my behalf because I had no other option than to remove their books. And if you know me at all I love books and so desperately wish to pass this on to my children.

Suddenly my girls were without any toys or books to keep them busy. There was no tv, no video game to occupy their time. They could play outside, sit on their bed, or work on summer workbooks.

This might just be working. After several days without all those toys they had their birthday and received many great gifts from friends and family in which I have permitted them to keep in their room. They were informed that their behavior was what would determine if they would continue to have those toys.

So far, things seem to be looking up. Which is very welcomed.

The day those girls were born my life changed. At exactly 1:40pm on Thursday July 17, 2003 I knew what it was like to love beyond measure. Then I was privileged to experience that exact same feeling a mere 2 minutes later. It was the most amazing thing.

I've said it several times. My girls pay the biggest price being my oldest. They must live through my learning curve as a parent. But, maybe...just maybe they will come out of it the best possible adults they can be.

So with another year in the books as a mother of twins I feel the need to celebrate, cry, and hug them even tighter. The road ahead is very rocky but I wouldn't miss it for anything. They gave me the privilege of being a mother, I owe them the work of being a good parent.

Happy birthday Erin Paige & Ireland Grace!!! Momma loves you!!!

needed

I've abandoned my writing...as always it becomes the first thing I fling to the side once life goes speeding down the stairs. The problem with this is that it's one of the things that help me remain centered, mindful, and peaceful.

All of which I currently need.

Have you ever had a thousands questions thumping your brain? Incessantly banging and bringing no answers. It's driving me crazy at the moment.

I spent much of my childhood filled with drama of one kind or another. The drama was never ending and if life did grant me a reprieval I would begin to freak knowing the next event was just moments away. I found myself unable to function without the drama....I expected it, demanded it.

Then, one day I grew tired. I wanted peace, space, quiet.

While my married life has not been drama free the majority of it is calm and easy going. If that is possible with four kids.

Lately, the drama has weaseled its way into my life and has begun to strangle the very air I attempt to breathe.

So I find myself desiring a return to my center. A need to write, even the simplest of words. I need to recognize that even in the smallest amount this is my me time, my attempt to care for myself. So...let the writing begin. I hope.