For the Sake of Random Thoughts.

A thought has occurred to me in the last few weeks.

If I ask my mom about our childhood, most of the time her answer is 'I don't remember.' You don't remember? How does a mom forget? Some part of me believes it's because she worked so hard to keep memories of Allison. The other part of me thinks that maybe in those years after the accident, life was a blur, a depression for her. Just going through the motions. There are certainly parts of the last 6 wks I can't remember, conversations I'm sure I had but they are lost.

I told Ann, the psycho, this week that I think the blog is so I won't be able to say 'I don't remember' to my children. Their lives, the parts they don't have memory of will be here in writing. They may laugh, cry, smile and cringe at it years from now.

A blog friend told me a couple days ago that she loves my blog because it makes her laugh and speaks the truth.

There's a lot of truth here. About marriage, discipline, laughter, sadness, the depth of love, and where that all gets you in life. I grew up in a family that waxed over a lot of things, denied that there was an elephant in the room, and wouldn't talk about anything uncomfortable.

Rich didn't grow up like me, so this has been a crossroads for us. A whole exploration into how to break the cycle of my family, how to pull in the openness of his. The dialogues between us feel dynamic to me, like we are getting somewhere slowly.

I think there's a line in the movie ''As Good as It Gets'' that Jack Nicholson's character talks about itty bitty baby steps.

He also hops all over the sidewalk at one point trying to avoid the cracks. OCD rules his life. And while I don't have OCD tendencies, I am very proficient with avoidingthings.. Maybe I've been hopping over all the cracks in life and instead of stepping into the depths, apply a little Elmer's and hope that holds.

I'm hoping that this blog also give my kids a true picture of life....not just the pretty parts either.

When I Grow

Nora's been talking a lot about what she's going to do when she grows, grows, grows and get big like me.

The conversations are so scattered and the connectivity in her thoughts is wanting.

So far I've gathered that she thinks her spirit means it's her job.

She also thinks spirit means 'you listen to children'.

She says she has to stand on her stool in the bathroom and get pretty because that also is her job.

She does love her make-up and having lots of bows and ponytails.

She painted all my nails turquoise blue yesterday, except for my middle finger on my left hand...it was fuchsia because it was special. Mimi bought her this, umm awesome, polish collection when she was here last month. I think Nora adds mass to her body with the amount of paint she applies to fingers and toes. All by herself. I cringe when she opens the bottles near the carpet.

I don't know about all this. Maybe her inner self is already telling her to go into beauty school? Is she an artist in the making like mommy?

____________________________

And then there was this tonight during snuggle chat.

''Mommy, you have big boobs.''

''Um yeah. I guess I do'' (of course that's all enhanced because of the breastfeeding, still shrinking back down)

''How do I get big boobs?''

''You uh have to grow''

''I grow and grow and get big boobs!''

If genetics have a say in it honey, yes you will be blessed with a large chest. Hopefully, you will be just as excited about it 10 or so years from now.

Beyond the Cliche

Today.

I feel normal.

I didn't want to get out of bed, but that was only because Rich slept in today and we were cuddled. The kids were down the hall chattering at each other.

Did I mention that Nora has learned to crawl into Trent's crib? Just smooshes her foot between the rails in between the mattress and legs it over. There are many rules invovling this, one being, DO NOT try to get brother out of the crib. But there are sweet giggles and squeals drifting down the hall most mornings.

The five minutes of crib time lets me get my bearings.

Except today. Today I woke up with my bearings. I almost skipped taking my anti-anxiety pill. Yea, yeah....I know. I took half because it says I can take 1/2 to a whole. Still within prescription bounds.

Then the morning just flowed, easily and it was like breathing in spring.

Fed the kids.

I cleaned the kitchen. Started the dishwasher. Swept and vacuumed the tile. I did this without thinking about it and drudging my way through it.

Then I made our bed, virtually unheard of. (and for the second day in a row)

Checked on the kids playing in the bonus room. Pulled Trent away from a socket...he's obsessed right now.

Picked up all the extra cups in the bonus room and took them downstairs.

Did the trash across the top of the house and actually went outside to deposit in the big trash can. Most of the time it hits the garage floor right outside the laundry room door to be taken out later.

Got the kids both dressed in record time. WITH, I might add very little whining from Nora. This whining stage is going to be the end of my patience.

I put a load of clothes in the dryer. Filled the washing machine with dirty clothes to run later.

Had a friend come to watch the kids while I went to the pscyho, Ann.

Sat in the waiting room. Interesting people watching. Small innocent looking little boy with shoe laces untied, angsty teenager throwing herself on couch arms crossed, and retired age woman in running suit. Fun to make up in my head what their problems might be.

Talked to psycho. Most of the time feeling like a rambling idiot but whatever she's getting inside my head. We did discuss the misconception that motherhood is suppose to be poetic or at least people will wax poetic about it. Trust me there are those days, but it's not the norm. This is what I got out of today....most sayings about motherhood are cliches. These cliches are verbalized on the GOOD days....

You will never see a plaque reading ....'Some days, 'mommy?' sounds like nails on a chalkboard' hanging above a doorframe in your friends kitchen. Because who would be inspired by that.

Nooooooo all the plaques at Hobby Lobby read, 'My children, my heart walking outside my body' or 'My children taught me the meaning of life.'' Which in reality, parents are suppose to be teaching children about life. What if you screw that up? There is no report card to give you a 'U' for unsatisfactory in morals and an 'S' for satisfactory in problem solving.

What you might get is a angsty teenager that throws herself onto leaather couches in a doctors office.

So that was therapy today.

Came home. Talked with friend who sat with kiddos.

Suggested going outside to Nora and got a resounding 'YESSSSS!' Nora wanted to go on a walk so she pushed her baby stroller while I pushed Trent. Ran into another friend driving home and talked to her on the sidewalk.

Did yard picnic lunch with kiddos for an hour.

Came in and put Trent down for nap like clockwork. Bottle, burp....mommy give me my snuggle blanket and he is OUT!.

And now, I'm snuggled on the couch with my girl watching 'Tinkerbell'.

Tomorrow could just be one continuous domestic and parental war, but today is the cliche.