I'm sorry, so sorry...

Tonight I took the girls to our town's library, after their art class.  I'm actually really into our new routine, as their art class is right around the corner from the library so I think it will encourage us to go weekly.  Every time we do, I'm reminded of how much I love spending time among the books, students, kids corner...and they have a couponing basket!!

Anyway, as we walked in tonight, I heard a child humming loudly.  I didn't see him at first, just heard him.  Within 5 seconds, I realized it was an autism-type of hum.  I walked my children across the room to the bathroom - I was thankful that in the car I told them once we got to the library we had to wash our hands from the art class.  Once we were in the bathroom, I reminded them that some children can't help the things they do, and this little boy might hum a lot while we were there and I wanted them to say a prayer for him in their heads, but to not say anything to him about his humming.  Bailey is always a shoe-in for the kid-who-won't-embarrass-me, but Tatie Tot's a loose cannon.  She has gotten SO much better, but I was unsure if she came nose to nose with the humming boy, that her questions, complaints or concerns might come spilling out.

We were there about 45 minutes, and what bothered me wasn't the boy's humming...it was his mom.  His beautiful mom, there with her son and her other child, a daughter about 7.   Her son looked about 5.  She must have said "I'm sorry" about 50 times.  What touched me so much was that her apologies were in front of her daughter, that made my heart break.  She had nothing to be sorry for!  She took her children to the LIBRARY...not an expensive restaurant.  Just because her son has a special need, she shouldn't go places?  Or she deserves to be there any less?  AND...her son seemed to have a serious special need, but perhaps he knows what she's saying too.

I am so happy to say, that not only was Taylor - both my girls - on their best behavior, but it wasn't so long ago, that a noise like the humming would have prevented Taylor from enjoying the library at all.  A year ago, definitely 2 years ago, I would have had to bribe Bailey with something, and had to leave, carrying a screaming Tatie in my arms.  I am so thankful, that a trip to the library was so enjoyable for my girls and I.  I did not say, 'I'm sorry' once.

It wasn't so long ago I was saying a lot of apologies.  In front of my children.  I apologized when Taylor held her ears during dance class because she hated the tapping noise.  I apologized when she screamed at the Applebee's because the family at the next table ordered fajitas and she hated the smell and the smoke.  I apologized to the checkout girl at the grocery store, as I balanced a mad Tatie on my hip as I threw foods that she hated to look at on the belt.  I apologized to family, friends, teachers.  Why was I sorry?

This woman tonight, she left the library skipping.  Literally.  Her son didn't want to leave, his humming became even louder and he was trying to fall to the floor and she half carried him skipping out the door, trying to get him to skip.  How exhausted is this mom.  I desperately wanted to approach her, but I get so nervous about doing that.  It brings tears to me now, thinking of my missed opportunity, of my fear.

That should be what I'm sorry about.  For not telling this mom she had nothing to be sorry for.

Dreams

Bailey had a nightmare this week, and it freaked her out so much she was crying in school the next day.  She has only had a few nightmares, but they really traumatize her.  This past one, she dreamt that Taylor had an "itching disease" that made her whole body burn up and eat itself, and then she died.  Poor thing!  Of course as she recounted this to me the next morning, Taylor was right there and her eyes became as big as saucers hearing about Bailey dreaming that her skin had pointy things that stuck out and turned red and ate itself.  We had a nice chat.

Every few months I have a nightmare, and thankfully I have an understanding husband who will - probably in his sleep but I'll take it - ask me what it was about at 3am and then hold me until I fall back asleep.  Sometimes I can't go back to sleep bc it's so upsetting...like the one where I dreamt Bailey had a "Mr Wilson" in her school who stole her and she was a missing child.  That was AWFUL and I seriously thought about keeping her home from school the next day.  If she had a teacher named Mr Wilson I certainly would have been panicked!

Last night I didn't have a nightmare, but my dream was unpleasant.  I dreamt I ran into my ex-boyfriend...we dated in high school for a couple years but I haven't seen him at all since I started college in '97.  He was very special to me, my first love if you will....and I have wondered over the years here and there if he's as happy as I am, if he has love in his life.  Anyway, I dreamt we ran into each other and he looked me up and down, and then said, "Oh.  You look..."  And so I said, "Weathered?"  And he said, "Yeah...I guess...different."

That was it, then I woke up.  I promptly told Kevin, who assured me I don't look weathered...but he's biased of course :)  Thank God  Kevin loves me so much.  He sees me through these rose colored glasses, and I don't know why except that he just loves me and I am just so thankful for that.  If I did run into my ex, I would be so embarrassed about how I look.  I rarely pay to get my hair done, I get like 2 pedicures a year, never a manicure, my clothes are usually the colors of dark and darker, and of course there's my weight.

Today I kept thinking about being "weathered." I thought, you know I have done a lot of things I'm proud of since he and I broke up... and I was not thinking about that, just what he would think if he looked at me.   Or I guess what I'm assuming he would think.  Because if I ran into him and he maybe had a receding hairline, or a few wrinkles (no way would he be fat, it's just not in his DNA) I wouldn't really see that.  I'd see the same eyes of the young boy who was the first boy to tell me he loved me, who bought me a ring for my 16th birthday from the Best store (that's really what the store was called), who wrote me love letters and took me to my school dances, who listened to me cry my eyes out for hours when I failed my driving test.  I'd hope to see happiness in his face, that he is doing well in life and has love.

Well, it was just a dream.  I may be a bit weathered...I have stretch marks, an 8yr old minivan not to mention an 8 yr old kid, bills, responsibilities.  I'm no high school kid anymore.

Thank God.

I'm going to go snuggle my husband now.

can't help it

*Just a warning - this post is dumb.  There is no point to it.  I am procrastinating doing important things that will require thought and movement.  I really don't even know why I wrote it.  If you are like me and procrastinating, waste a minute and read it.  If you are a productive, busy person...skip it.*

Why do we love the things we love?  Associations with family, friends?  Tied to memories?  Just the way we're made?


I love the smell of gasoline...no idea why.

I love the smell of the bookstore.  Coffee, books...freedom.

I love the smell of Mom boiling a chicken and baking pie.  Comforts.

I love the smell of Kevin's neck, and my kids hair.  Closeness, a privilege.  They're mine.

I love the feel of a baby's hand on my face.  Sweetness.

I love the feel of the top of Kevin's hand.  Strength.  Tenderness.

I love touching my kids ears.  When they were born, it was the first thing I looked at, glad they both had their fathers ears.  One of my cousin's had an ear thing, and I remember as a teen watching her touch her son's ears.  It seemed so loving to me, and remember thinking that is how he will know his mommy loves him.  So ears became more that just ears to me.

I love violin music.  Relaxing.

I love being called Mama more than anything in the world...more than Mommy or Brynnie or sweetheart...I just think Mama is the most precious word you could hear.  I don't hear that as often anymore.

I love feeling wanted.   Needed, not as much...it can be quite a responsibility. 

I love the sound of Taylor's laugh.  There is nothing like it.

I hate the sound of Kevin snoring.  There is nothing like it.

I hate clutter.  Feeling closed in.

I hate feeling rushed.

I hate yelling, and am working on extinguishing this habit as a discipline technique.  Easier said than done, to not repeat the sins of the father.   My girls get the best of me, but have also gotten the worst.

I hate the sound of dogs barking.  Annoying.

I love the way my mom says "Hi Brynnie" when she calls me.  I know that right then nothing is more important to her than hearing about my day.  She always tells me I do too much, and I feel like everyone else in the world but her thinks I should do more.  No one loves me like my mom does.

I love watching our 2 black cats lick each other, and snuggle.  They're brothers, they're not "into" it, they just really love each other.  It makes me so happy we adopted both - where would one be without the other?  Maela, our older cat, hates them and wishes we had left both at the pound.

I love hearing my girls play together and actually get along.  Sisters.

I love hearing Kevin laugh so hard I know it's imminent that he will vomit.  I don't like the vomiting part, but if I'm the one who made him laugh I feel so proud of myself.

I'll write something more important later.  Maybe.

Am I where I want to be at 32?

Today is my 32nd birthday.  Kevin made me Eggos, Bailey made me a card and wrapped it, Taylor said she wanted it to be her birthday, but then wrapped me up some pretty stones...and then took them back.  It felt right.

I remember as a child there was a young woman in my neighborhood, I think she was in her early 20's, maybe I was 8 or 9.  She had a boyfriend, and I remember feeling something - like a Whoa! feeling - when I saw them together, taking a walk.  There was something about her that I remember feeling in awe of, and wanting to be just like her when I grew up...and really, I didn't even know her.  But her confidence, her laugh, her joy (what I perceived at the time anyway) was something I wanted.  And for someone to have their arm around me, and look at me like her boyfriend looked at her.


I didn't really have plans for my life when I was younger.  I knew I wanted to get married and be a mother - I've known that since making mudpies and carrying around my Cabbage Patch baby.  But when I went to college, I realized I had to have some kind of goal - so I majored in Psychology, reasoning that I would like the "people and listening" kind of field.  A year of social work taught me I needed a Masters to really have any choices within that career line, and I started taking 2 courses in Counseling - and then found out I was pregnant with Bailey.  I dropped out and haven't gone back.  And now I have a dire case of the "I don't know what I want to do with my life."

I am so thankful God blessed me with a husband, and I love being a mother.  Being a wife and mom will always be the most important roles I will have - that and being a servant of the Lord.  I am asking Him to open my eyes to the work He has in store for me.

When I turned 30, I told myself that my 20's were about being a young wife, and a new mother - learning the ropes.  I wanted my 30's to be about maturing, growing, refining - and honestly, losing a big chunk of weight.  I don't think I've accomplished any of those things yet.  I still have a temper and am too quick to yell, I still am not disciplined in taking the time with God I need to, I still am - minus maybe 10 pounds - the same weight I was when I delivered Taylor, almost 6 yrs ago.  That's right folks, a full term baby.  Big sigh.  These things make me feel like a failure, make me feel like time is passing and I have nothing to show for it.

But that's not the truth.  I have 2 girls who are happy and healthy...and with their 2 separate issues, I am even more grateful for that fact.  I have a husband who still loves me, still provides for his family.  I am close with my mother - just this past weekend she came over and made me peach pie, and said a prayer of thankfulness for me while we held hands at the Cracker Barrel.  I have friends who I really enjoy...I may not have a best friend, which I really miss having in my life, but I know I am loved and a few friends even think I'm funny.  That's a great feeling.

So at 32 I'm not exactly where I want to be, but I'm thankful for all the blessings in my life.  And really - that feeling that young woman must have had, laughing down the street with her boyfriend - I have that feeling every day.  Joy and love.  Just what I wanted.

An addendum

My last entry on this blog, which feels like a billion years ago, was basically about how much I love this season - give or take some temper tantrums and sibling fighting -  of having young children.  That I want to enjoy them and not fear for when this season is over.

I wrote that entry while my children were in bed.  Sleeping like angels.  Quiet, not ripping my house and each other apart.

I wrote that entry after being away on vacation with my hottie husband and friends.  Just adults.  Fun.  No chores or the monotony of every day life.  No waking up to Taylor picking her nose and wiping it on my arm.  No listening to Bailey whine for the hundreth time over the course of an hour.

I wrote that entry with less brain cells than I had 8 years ago.  I will never get them back, they are gone.

So this is my addendum to that last post.

I love my girls, they are my life.  But I am REALLY looking forward to school starting next Tuesday.