Childhoodtake2!

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on if.
Go.

If I smiled more, I would be proud of my almost 40-year-old lines.
If I laughed more, you wouldn't see me as a serious mom.
If I let go more, the anxiety wouldn't build.
If I was more patient, my family would feel lighter.
If I was more in-tune, I would know how to de-escalate situations.
If I could turn back time, there are so many things I would change, so many conversations I would do over, so many words I would take back.

But, I am me.
I am me and I am okay.
I am me and I don't have to be different.
I am me and I am not anyone else.
I am me and I shouldn't be anyone else.
I am me and I have to find the good of what I do.
I am me and I too am allowed to make mistakes.

If I focus on my good.
If I remember my year of different.
If I remember that I am who I am.
If I remember that I am not the crazy that I feel others see me as.
If I remember how much I love, how much I care, how much I try, how much I do.
If I remember that the person standing in front of that mirror is okay, she is okay.

If I had to do it all over again, this life all over again, you know I would have it turn out just like this right?
I would marry you all over again.
I would have the two children we have.
I would have spent 17 years loving Mia and I would adopt Pearl.
I would be living here.
I would be loving you all.
If I had it to do all over again, I would have it turn out just like this
being exactly who we are.
Because we are okay.

Stop.

Standing on the last day of school, I watched your little legs once again struggle to get on the bus.
I saw the driver smile wide as you both climbed on, high-fives given.
I saw your smile, your fingers form the sign for I love you, and I chocked back tears.
This beautiful moment is lost when I am not feeling love.
This moment of childhood and genuine togetherness and no ties love is lost on a mom that is dying on a vine.

Heading out to our traditional ice cream for dinner, I held your hand.
The one I couldn't stop looking at as a baby.
The one that once had to wrap only around a single finger but now is large enough to go hand in hand.
And I hear you whisper how much you love this, how much you look forward to these moments that I make special.
But this beautiful moment is lost on me.
Because I am slugging along feeling lost and quite alone right now.
This moment of childhood and genuine togetherness and no ties love is lost on a mom that is dying on a vine.

What if I owned rose-colored glasses?
Would I see it all as a beautiful mess?
What if I change how I see this world I get to live in?
What if I remember that I get to live in it, not have to?

I forgot that I too own rose colored glasses and I forgot that this is my year of different.
I forgot that there isn't anything pressing right now.
I forgot about joy when all I feel is empty and alone.
The moments full of vibrant color but all I see is blue.
Because I forgot that I need to always have my rose-colored glasses with me.

I have been here before.
I have stood in this place of worry.
I have stood in this place of concern and glum and glume.
I have stood alone before, forgetting how surrounded I am.

I have to find a way to remove the foot standing on my chest.
I have to find my laugh, the one I love.
I have to find their childhood, the one I protect.
I have to find me and whisper in her ear...

I have your rose-colored glasses right here. I am holding them in my hand. You misplaced them but all you need to do is take them and put them on. Don't worry about the schedules and all there is to do. Don't worry if the fun stuff doesn't happen because all of summer is fun. Don't worry if we don't get to everything because the worrying is making you forget all we can do. Don't worry about who you are, because you are good and kind and decent. Don't worry about the kids because they are good and kind and decent. Don't worry about mistakes because we all make them, even grownups so give the kids a break. Please forgive yourself for being too much of everything, please forgive them for being little and having to teach them, please forgive him because he is trying too.

Here, I have them right here, just take them and put them on.

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on ocean.
Go.

It's the sound.
The one that surrounds me and whispers that calm is here.
It's the smell.
The one that tells me the sand is now under my feet, the lotion has been applied, the time to relax is now.
It's the laughter.
The one that spills out of my kids, the happy childhood coming to life.
It's the people.
The framily we are with, the souls that are healed.
It's the warmth.
The one that comes from the sun, the one that makes the cold and shivers disappear.
It's the time.
The one that finally moves slowly, lists be damned.
It's the traditions.
The ones that mean everything to my little faces because this part of parenting, I did right.
It's the tired.
The one that comes from a day of laughter and games and kids and doggies and the beach.
It's the right kind of tired.
It's the right state of mind.
It's the right people in my life.
It's the right connections.
It's the right reminders.
It's the right atmosphere.
It's the right surroundings.
It's the right feelings.

It's the way my life should go but somehow I make it too complicated.
It's the way I should feel most of the time and in my year of different, I am trying
and trying is good too.
I know how different things need to be.
I know how much I make things too hard and I am trying.

Trying to live my life with reminders of small.
Trying to live my life with reminders of good.
Trying to live my life with reminders of joy, pure joy.
Trying to live my life with reminders of beauty.
Trying to live my life standing where I am, not where I was, not where I should be.

It's the mood.
The one that transcends me into a happy mom again.
It's the vibe.
The one that feels freeing, less constricting.
It's the food.
The meals that mean more than fuel.

It's just the ocean but to this little family of mine, it's everything.

Stop.

In case you missed his amazing adventure days, here is the post he wrote:

Adventure Day with Dad

He is a good father because he worries that he isn't.
He is a good father because he enjoys their milestones as much as they do.
He is a good father because he grows with them, he doesn't push away or pull towards.
He is a good father because he sees all their potential and wants and wants and wants for that.
He is a good father because he basks in where they are, right now, here today, he basks in it.
He is a good father because parenthood was always a part of his story.
He is a good father because he cares about them.
He is a good father because he thinks of them, he wants to see them smile.
He is a good father because he plans their adventure days.
He is a good father because he plans their vacations.
He is a good father because he plans their activities.
He is a good father because he plans their birthdays.
He is a good father because he isn't a planner but he is for them.
He is a good father because he loved them even before he met them.
He is a good father because he knew they would come to us.
He is a good father because he plays with them, really plays with them.
He is a good father because he reads to them.
He is a good father because he taught them to ride their bike.
He is a good father because his summer is all about them.
He is a good father because he is.

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on restore.
Go.

It's the end of another school year.
It's the end of another season.
It's the end of sports and lessons and so many schedules.
It's time for this family to sit back and restore.

It's the end of our tri.
It's the end of all of that training.
It's the beginning of the racing season but for now
it's time for my body to rest, it's time for me to restore.

It's the start of my kids acting up.
It's the exhaustion coming through.
It's the lack of patience from every single one of us.
It's time for our unit to regroup, come back together, find the simple and bask in it.
It's time for us to restore.

It's time for a summer bucket list, the only one we stick to.
It's time for some new traditions and in my year of different, it's time for me to find my restoration too.

It's time to get back in front of framily.
It's time to fill myself full with all the right people.
It's time for me to step back from those I do not feel good about or good about myself with.
It's time for me to find where my heart is full.
It's time for me to find those that are comfortable with my crazy and admit to their own.
It's time for me to find my restoration too.

It's time for my kids to feel a part of a happy family again.
It's time for us to find all the relaxing parts of life again.
It's time for us to feel connected and squished together again.
It's time for this family unit to be restored.

RainyDayInMay might be my favorite follow right now! (And just read that title again and tell me we are not lost soul sisters!)
Thank you for this amazing random idea...

1.Describe your 30’s in one sentence.
Her's (which I totally agree with): The decade filled with wall-to-wall unpredictability and change.
Mine: Your 30s are about building your life.

2. Is it harder for you to exercise or eat healthy?
Eat healthy, I have a love with food and I want to end every meal with something sweet. As I am getting older, I have conflicting thoughts and a complicated relationship with sugar.

3. June 7th is National VCR Day.
I am sad to say that we cannot even play a DVD in our house and I can barely watch a movie. My kids are better at it and my husband knows all the things, but I am not up to date with any form of tech.

Here is a list of items RainyDayInMay found of things we all had and needed that are becoming obsolete-

bookshelves (WHAT!!???), drip coffee makers, alarm clocks, file cabinets, desktop computers, printers, printed phone books, answering machines, fax machines, paper shredders, a Rolodex, CD racks, CD burners, china cabinets, home phones, entertainment consoles, DVD players, calculators, takeout menus, incandescent light bulbs, and cable TV

Your thoughts? How many on the list do you still have? Still use?
We still own bookshelves and are building more shelves this year, we have a filing cabinet and a printer. We have a shredder and a china cabinet and a small entertainment console (but mainly for books and decorations - very little is media related). I have a calculator (many actually and one that is my fav).

4. What’s something you see disappearing in the next ten years?
I agree with Cable TV and streaming being much more relevant.
There are so many things that will no longer be...but for some of us that brings about a bit of fear and loss.

5. How did you celebrate your birthday this past year? Is that typical?
It's a hard day and brings up a lot of sadness. We did nothing last year (which is typical but never expected and actually wanted but just easier) and this year is a big one. I am working on my different year so I am planning this one from head to toe. I have a running list going because it is time I am celebrated too. I wasn't a mistake, I wasn't an afterthought and I am here and doing a lot. I am taking the power of this day into my control and I am celebrating me.

6. Insert your own random thought here.
RainyDayInMay posted a gorgeous piece about Kate Spade. With the loss of Anthony Bourdain just days later this week was a huge reminder of how delicate life is, how hurt some people are by it and how joy seems to always be just out of our grasp.
I want my kids to know that although I am trying to be a good mom, I will keep growing into this role with you. I don't have all the answers, I don't have most of them, but I hope together we can figure it out.
I am struggling this week with energy and laughter and fun.
I am forgetting how important enjoying the process is.
I am forgetting how important childhood is and feel their good hearts slipping away from me.
I am forgetting how important our family unit is.
I just love you guys.

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on fly.
Go.

This Sunday, four months of training comes to a head.
This Sunday, we do our fourth triathlon.
This Sunday marks the end of 2 1/2 or 3-hour workouts.
This Sunday, I take off, I fly.

This Sunday, it will all be over.
This Sunday, I will plunge into that freezing cold water and I will be paralyzed with fear.
This Sunday, I will answer the question of "this is supposed to be fun right?" with hell no, this is supposed to show my body who is boss.
This Sunday, I tell my fears to go to hell.
This Sunday, I tell my MS who is in charge.
This Sunday, I will do it anyway, because that's how I make it through my life, petrified but doing it anyway.
This Sunday, I take off, I fly.

This Sunday, I will hopefully climb on my bike (which means I made it out of the water) and I will pedal.
This Sunday, I will tell my hip to shut up, we are doing this anyway and I will run.
This Sunday, I will tell those passing me, great job.
This Sunday, I will put one put in front of the other
I take off, I fly.

This Sunday, I will remind myself the torture of the swim is under 20 min and anyone can do anything for less than 20 min.
This Sunday, I will remind myself that the hill I climb in the beginning marks my ending too.
This Sunday, I will push through the cold, the shaking.
This Sunday, I take off, I fly.

This Sunday, we will come home and tell the kids how it went.
This Sunday, I will remind them how scared mom is, but how she keeps going.
This Sunday, they will see how strong and brave dad is.
This Sunday, they will ask questions because they have really good hearts.
This Sunday, we will celebrate as a family.

And here we go
four months of work
four months of time
four months of pain
four months of actual anger over the time and pain
four months of people asking "then why?"
four months of saying because I have to prove that I can
to me, I have to prove that I can to me!

This Sunday, I take off, I fly.

The heartbeat I once saw on the screen is a school-aged girl wonder.
The baby I nursed is a six-year-old lover of love boy.
The bottles I once washed are now family dinners arguing over what we like to eat this week.
The diapers are gone and replaced with sports equipment everywhere.
The daycare I once needed is replaced with after school everything.
The house with just a little pile of toys right here is now stuff, just more and more stuff on every surface in every corner.
Everything changes.

As a seasoned mother reminded me this week
the things that make me anxious and tired and wanting an out
are all of the things I will look back and realize how much I miss.
Everything changes.

The toddler holding my hand, learning to talk still needs to talk things out with me, for now anyway.
The chubby fingers and face are now growing into who you were always meant to be.
The little is being replaced with personality.
The laughter and patience I once had are becoming more tired and faded.
The baby love that made me whole is scared of the children I need to raise
the adults they will be tomorrow.
Everything changes.

So, as I go around the house and wipe down counters,
as I pick up and put away
as I clean on top of clean on top of clean
as I tidy and the frustration builds in my chest
I have to remember
everything changes.

The day will come when they are either no longer in need of all this stuff
no longer in want.
The day will come when the house will be so quiet that "noise" will split me in two.
The day will come when I will long with my whole body for signs of life in my home.
Everything changes.

Velveteen mothers know all too well that the years feel like days.
They find themselves staring at the people they once held on to so tightly and thinking over and over
once upon a time not so long ago
you were an extension of me.
I was your world and you were my stars.
Everything changes.

Which is why I love that I am the collector of stories
I love how much I can play back each and every memory.
But it is also at times quite painful to feel as though I can still reach out and touch that little that I got the privilege to mother.
Everything changes.

Here is what I know to be true and need you both to understand.
I have zero regrets about how I spent my time...
carefully examining you and breathing you in.
Watching each day with love.
Hearing myself in old videos
seeing old pictures
I am reminded how much I enjoyed mothering you.
How much fun I had and how much I relished in the days.
I was slow with you.
I enjoyed you.
Everything changes.

And as the parenting gets more delicate and heavy.
As I feel this need to guide more and this worry hanging over me
I hope to return to the me I was and still am.
Everything changes, even this velveteen mother.

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on return.
Go.

Return to the me I am.

In and out of anger.
In and out of fog.
In and out of joy and love and grace.
It's time to return to the me I am.

In and out of deadlines that make me lose my focus.
In and out of lists that pull me away from what is important.
In and out of seasons of sacrifice.
It's time to return to the me I am.

But in order to return to her, I need to define who she really is.
Because she is complicated.
She is tightly wound.
She is a lover of work and family.
She is confused and always questioning.
She is constantly reevaluating and taking steps to grow.
She recognizes her core, she is self-aware, but growth is important.
It's time to return to the me I am.

In and out of love and distraction.
In and out of weight and freedom.
In and out of responsibility and childhood.
It's time to return to the me I am.

I am going to keep redefining her.
She will be reinvented.
She isn't one to stand still.
Time changes her.
Circumstances make her see things differently.
But her core has always been there.
It's time to return to the me I am.

The woman who loves love.
The woman who loves her circle.
The woman that believes in the power of childhood.
The woman that welcomes joy and smiles and laughter.
The woman that allows it to take over her soul, her body.
The woman that listens more, speaks what is important.
It's time to return to the me I am.

Stop.