It Wasn't Me

It wasn't me talking the other day. Or now. I swear. Alter ego taketh over and here she goes!

The girls are at their dad's.

I hate saying that. There it is. I said it. I hate saying it.

It is raining and I am awake but refusing to do work or chores no matter how behind.

Yup, said that too.

Wish I could sleep. What will it take to get one to sleep sans nightmares? (Other than a new history which obviously isn't going to happen)

Ahhhhhhhhh

So much has been going on and I have been so far away from my writing place. Speaking of which, it is about time this girl gets published. SDFM contacted me and elated with joy I am awaiting the reply from the editor with the go-ahead for one of my ideas before I just go there and slip an article in their layout. Kidding. Seriously though, it is about time. I'm officially in my "thirties" now and DAMN I've been through enough to know I what I want and I want to follow my dreams.

I look around my partially empty house and shiver at past memories. I take a second look and only see a positive and fulfilling future. It is mine because I will work for it.

If I am really quiet for a moment, I can hear the tiny sounds of my not-so-baby-but-always-my-baby breathing in the other room. I get up and check on him occasionally and see the tiny curls frame his face. He sleeps with his mouth slightly open with his plump lower lip (oh how I am jealous- botox, restilin (sp?)- when the money comes I want you!!!) just like his daddy.

All three kids sleep in similar positions but so different. It is so amazing that these small people grew inside my body for thirty-seven weeks and now are real people that are going to grow up and contribute to the world in some fabulous way (because their souls will be raised to want to be fabulous and fabulous excretes from their pores).

T senses you are close to her and the moment you collapse into the cool sheets and pull up the blanket she is on you like butter on toast. Melting to your form and discontent with anything less than full coverage. She is almost as big as me, yet when she sleeps she is still a baby to me. I wonder when she is my age and I look at her asleep (if I am so lucky) if I will still see that same form- that baby in her always. Will I remember the way she leisurely nursed as if all my time was for her? I held her constantly, as this was her needs. She was slow to crawl, tentative to walk, but had no problem running. Her brain works fast. She takes in every detail and remembers everything. Quiet at first, she astonishes me with what comes out of her once she opens up. Even our little girls must grow up and we hope we are teaching her the best and being the role model we need to be. Baby, I tell her, don't rush to grow up. Enjoy this time. Enjoy your youth. It will never be this way again. She, as the oldest, as been through the most and seen too much and heard too much. Still she flourishes and we battle wits and I commend and respect her because she is HER.

Little L. Petite and tiny I almost forget she is a Big Girl now and not a baby. After a hard and terrible morning, she asked me to pick her up out of the car and carry her to the classroom as I dropped her off to preschool. She snuggled in like she was the only one and had my world in her hands. I kissed her tiny toes as I convinced her to change her shoes because of the rain. My fashion Diva has such a mind of her own when it comes to getting dressed. Did I battle my mom in such a way? Her outfit perfectly blended in a trendy way, mixing her hand-me-downs with her own clothes in the most fashionable of ways. She was set and ready and cried when I left for work. Tears fall from my eyes sometimes as I too am not quite adjusted to the full-time work/full-time mom thing when I always planned on staying home with my children.

But times change, situations change, economies even change and so we must too change with them and do it with a smile. I am proud of what I do. I know it will benefit them someday although I ache and ache to be back with them living every moment and being their number one. That is now lost and can never be returned. I know what I am doing is best for them, for me. But it still hurts as oftentimes change does.

Little L, the artist, wanted to "change" my bathroom. You know, in all the remodeling done to the house one of the last things on the list was the master bathroom and painting of the bedroom. So it has remained (like so many other things) unfinished for about two years now since the collapse of our "empire". Yes I said it out loud. We had a downfall. I'm still alive. I have learned so much. I can even talk about it. But that is another (long) story.

So, in a mere three minutes she pulled out a horrible Hunter Green paint and decoupage glue from my pre-kids days when I used to actually have talents including crafts and proceeded to paint the bathroom.

Her three minutes took me another two hours to fix (and of course, it will never be completely fixed until the cabinets and counter are refinished or replaced because I may be a mom but not a total miracle worker) and I followed that clean-up with a nice hot shower because really, there wasn't much else to do.

T's intelligence and L's creativity remind me of the biggest parts of me that I do not always now how to control. And so when they do certain things, I am OHSOMAD and ready to teach a lesson but deep down- shhhhh don't let them know yet- I get it.

Tiny D is growing and exploring and learning mischief from his sisters. He can climb from the floor to the chairs and get on the table and dance to the cartoon music. As much as this makes me want to laugh out loud, I know I must put it to a stop before I am cleaning baby brains up and I immediately reprimand him in the way one can discipline a one-year-old and pray he finds something less dangerous to discover. Or less disgusting than the toilet...

My last baby. I was so happy to get my tubes tied, so ready to say never again, I am done. But now that most of my cervix is, well, gone and all that other stuff I cannot have kids in any way ever again and a small (sick?) part of me is sad. I grieve.

I am in a state of excitement and grieving all at once over so many things. That is why I have not been writing. That is why tonight I am not writing well. My mind moves too fast. My body too slow. I don't know when it is appropriate to laugh and when to cry. This also will change with time (or meds) but for now, it is a day by day approach to taking it in and being real while still putting on the game face.

Yup, I said it. I put on the game face sometimes. And I hope I do it well. I hope most of you have no idea which is the real thing and which is the one for show.

I never want to be a downer. I never want to be "that girl" no matter what I go through. No matter what I survive (did you see my purple ribbon added on to the site? speaking of survival... it speaks for all cancers and domestic violence and is my favorite color. talk about having it all!).

I write tonight knowing I am saying things I normally would not.
I write tonight knowing I am not saying much at all.
I know by not saying much sometimes it says a lot.
These things I know to be true.
Like laughter and bubbles and nature's intentions.

I take a break and then return to the blog to write some more. I don't remember my intention in posting this tonight. I don't think I had one.

I hear in the back of my head Peter, Paul and Mary singing.
"Lemon Tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet. But the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat."

I hear Cat Stevens whispering to me.
"I never wanted to be a star. I never wanted to travel far.

Robert Frost says to me:
Two road diverged in a yellow wood and I, I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference.

Somewhere else I hear a whisper from Johnny Cash, "I walk the line"

Don't we?

Laura Roppe reminds me "To hold on for just one more day"

And so I will.

Sometimes I have something to say. And sometimes I have something to say about nothing.