Waiting…

One of the hardest things in life is having to wait.

Waiting on people. Waiting for things. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for something to NOT happen – like spankings when you got in trouble. (For sure!)

Waiting at the doctor’s office. Waiting for the lunch hour to come. Waiting for an empty microwave to use during lunchtime. Waiting for the day to end.

Then there’s the bigger picture: Waiting for life. Waiting for death.

I'm waiting right now, and it’s driving me crazy. I’d like to move Father Time along quicker if I could.

I'm trying to take each day as it comes and distract myself with my very full calendar. But distractions aren’t distractions when you’re waiting. Maybe if I sleep early and rise late, I could cut daytime hours – and the waiting – shorter?

Hurry up, already ...

Mothering is hard

The other day I wasn’t very nice to Toccoa. I pulled a sheet of paper from her hand and gave her a look – which must’ve looked really mean – because I walked off and when I turned around, her back was to me, her head was down and her little shoulders were shaking. I went to see and her hand was covering her mouth, trying really hard not to cry … with HUGE tears running down her cheeks.

I felt terrible! I'd never seen her do that, and it was such a grown-up heart-breaking thing to do.

In our family, I’m the disciplinarian, while daddy’s fun. I’m the strict one who doesn’t let her get away with anything, while daddy enjoys letting her crawl and jump all over him and lounge atop his head and shoulders. I am very, very hard on her, while daddy dotes on her and buys her gifts.

But here's the thing. I can’t get over an obligation to make sure Toccoa is ready for the big world. I know, I know - she's only 4!!!! But it all starts at a young age.

I've taught Toccoa A LOT of things. I’m not bragging; I just know her potential and take advantage of opportunities to teach. I want her to learn basic skills so she can be independent, responsible and thrive on her own.

But once in a while, I get a good slap in the face by reality to chill the hell out and let her be a kid – or she’s going to hate me one day when she has enough sense to stop loving me because I’m too strict and mean.

Obviously, we do have good days … when I’m feeling more a mommy than a nazi. We talk and laugh, and she won’t talk back or have an attitude problem, and I won’t scream at her or tell her she’s the slowest person or meanest person in the world. We’ll be like girlfriends instead of mother and daughter, hanging out at Starbucks, legs crossed and drinking hot chocolate with raspberry turnovers. We do have a lot of fun together ...

And like it or not, my baby is not a baby anymore and I miss her tiny cuteness sooooo much. I want her to grow up independent, but I don’t want her to grow up too fast either. Maybe this weekend I’ll let her be a kid and I’ll be a fun mom and we can snuggle and watch Sleeping Beauty. And I’ll let her talk throughout the whole movie and hold my chin straight ahead so I don’t miss the part when the evil witch leads Princess Aurora up the dark staircase to her doom.

Honestly, don’t other moms worry they’re not preparing their kid enough for the world? C’mon, be honest; being a mom is really, really hard trying to balance being fun, a disciplinarian, a lifetime teacher and role model. AND having to undo all the damage done by dad's spoiling. :)

Dads - they just have to be cool and fun. I’d like to be a cool and fun parent sometimes and let Dave be the bad guy – but I let him be the fun one for now because someday, she’s going to hate her dad (for a time) and come to me with all her boyfriend problems. LOL

But ... Toccoa is a really good kid, who listens well (wouldn't you with a mean mom?), and I'm thankful she forgives me every time I do something to hurt her. She totally rocks!

A poopy kind of anxiety

At this moment, I'm feeling overwhelmed by anxiety. You know, the kind that makes you need to run to the bathroom before you do anything else. Like walking into a hospital. That can make me need to use the crapper - right away.

Just too many thoughts and feelings running around in my head. I'd like to pick just one and work through it, but it's all jumbled in there like cobwebs.

Recently at work, the question was asked "Who likes change?" A few stood up acknowledging they like change. I think they're liars. Big fat liars. Of course they were standing there, separating themselves from us "cowards of change" because they were the ones implementing change. But if they were forced into a corner by change they couldn't control, they'd probably resist. I am sure of it ... because who really is comfortable with change when it's out of their hands. Sure ... give anyone time to adjust, and they'd eventually adapt. It might take a few days ... a few weeks ... some - longer.

Anyway, it's 6:30 a.m. and I've already gone to the bathroom ... but the anxiety is still there, so I'm afraid I might have to hit the john a few more times today. Or just work through it.

But I know, sooner or later, this will be just like paying bills on a very broke week and seeing the debts stack up.

When the monies start dwindling and the bills make me so dizzy I see stars and my heart is pounding so hard ... and all I want to do is keep that pay check ... I know I have to give up and give in and give it to God. Because He promised that He has a plan for me - a plan to prosper me and not to hurt me.

I think I'll be selfless this mornng and not share, but give it ALL to Him. Obviously I can't do it alone.

So then like fog on a cold morning that blankets the earth, my troubles that make me anxious yet suffer so beautifully slowly fades into the sunshine that shines down on me and slowly warms me ... reminding me that it's only temporary. Sure, the troubles may return, but they too can dissolve into the air if I let the Sonshine do its thing.

And by suffering beautifully, I mean that in the midst of anxiety ... at every level of suffering ... there is a reminder of a hope. That things will turn out okay ... if I let it go.

Ha - and now I feel better.

Very Low Expectations

I have very low expectations … of people … of things … of events. There can only be two things that can happen from expectations: you get what you hoped for – which is a good thing – or you don’t.

Life has taught me that expectations can cause a bit of unnecessary anxiety and possible disappointment. Too many times I’ve wallowed in emotional injuries … because I was that naïve to have expectations.

However, naturally, though I resist, I do have some expectations. Some. But I try to avoid thinking too much about what could or couldn't happen. I just put one foot in front of the other and prepare myself for anything. I just have to trust that whatever happens, I'll have some kind of peace about it.

Anyway, having said all that ... I have to contradict myself and confess that in the deepest part of my heart, there's a small nagging feeling ... with a tiny voice that struggles to hide but speaks loudly saying, "Lord, I really, really want this."

Because by human nature, I can fight all I want to suppress expectations to protect my heart, but I still want.

I still want.

Moving Me Forward

Life likes to shake things up, doesn't it? Just when you're living in complete quiet contentment, something goes awry.

So I'm writing this. My thoughts...jumbled to you perhaps, but they make sense in here - in my head and heart. I'm not hoping for enlightenment or inspiration; just making myself transparent.

My SIL's grandmother passed away, and a few days before I'd gone to see her. She was lying in bed, while her daughter sat next to the bed - crying, engulfed in her sorrow, her cheeks covered with tears. She'd sat by her mother's bed for 2 weeks - watching, willing life to return. I closed the bedroom door and joined the rest of the family. It was like night and day. While the aunt was weeping in the other room, everyone else was screaming, joking, laughing, eating and carrying on as if death wasn't standing at the door.

I resigned myself to the couch - feeling overwhelmed with sadness...and perhaps a bit of self-loathing because it didn't seem right returning to normalcy. It didn't seem fair...that while people were LIVING, grandma was DYING...and their aunt's heart and whole world was breaking into pieces.

It reminded me that life REALLY DOES go on with or without you. People will still live...the sun will still come up...and the hands of time will keep moving...with or without you. With or without ME. The living lives on...life goes on.

Dave and I were talking the day about loneliness. How the best times in our lives still taught us a lot about loneliness, because sometimes in a room full of people, we can still feel so distant and completely alone too. Through our experiences, we've both realized the importance of keeping close the few people who still loved you after a big fight, who are fiercely devoted to you, who don't judge you for your weaknesses and honesty, and who, despite the miles and years of being apart, still have the same emotional connection as the last time you saw each other.

I'm content...living in all the moments of life that give me so much pleasure - though it may be boring to others. But it's absolutely okay with me. I'm holding the two loves of my life, Dave and Toccoa, close to my heart...and making the best of what this life has to offer me.

And if God takes me back Home and life keeps moving on without me, I only hope that though people will still be laughing and carrying on, I would have made a difference to at least one person. And will be remembered, honored and loved.

(Originally written 3/19/09)