Birthday Wishes

“On the night you were born, the moon smiled with such wonder that the stars peeked in to see you and the night whispered, “Life will never be the same.” Because there had never been anyone like you ever in the world.”

             On the Night You Were Born by Nancy Tillman, was the first book I read to my grandson, Malachi. I sat by his isolette daily reading to him and when I was able to, hold his tiny little hand in mine. This strong little warrior was born into this world weighing just over one pound. His determination and sheer stubbornness to survive, taught our family priceless lessons that we will hold close to our hearts forever.

Today would have been Malachi’s second birthday. I try to imagine his little face at two, what his little personality could have been like. It would be so easy to focus on all my thoughts on regrets, all the would-have-beens and mourn their loss. I want to celebrate his life today.

In the coming months, my family will be growing. I am adding a daughter-in law and a new grandbaby, a little boy. As I thought about these great changes, my heart was sadden at the thought that Malachi would not be here to be part this crazy chaos I call family. But this past week, I was gently reminded, in a way that only an innocent child can by my sweet Emma, Malachi’s older sister, that he will be here, just not in the way we want.

Emma had found three tiny onesies that I had bought for our soon to be grandson and asked me, “Nana, are these for Malachi?”

"No, they are for Aunt Jessie’s new baby. I am going to write on them.”

Emma paused for a moment and held up the onesie covered in little stars, “I know what we could write on this one. Malachi’s Best Friend, because they are!”

Tears filled my eyes and my heart caught in my throat, “I think that is a great idea, sweetpea.”

Images flooded my mind of two dark haired little boys in heaven, chasing after frogs, climbing trees, and getting into whatever mischief is available where they are. Yes, these two are best friends.

Emma’s simple thought that focused on the joy instead of the sadness encouraged me to think the same way.  So today I will remember the joy that Malachi brought to my family. The gift of his little life that changed so many. Our lives will never be the same because there has never been anyone like you ever in the world.  I love you, my sweet little angel.

Mother Bear

The author N.K. Jemisin once said, “There is no greater warrior than a mother protecting her child.”    

It does not matter how old children are, mothers will fearlessly face down their children’s foes and skillfully deliver the kind of retribution that only a mother can. Deep inside each of us lies a creature of savage fierceness. The Mother bear. Do not mess with her cubs. You bait her, and you will crawl away mangled and bloody. It is never wise to engage a Mother bear who is protecting her family.

This ferocious creature will lie dormant within us mothers for a time, only to come roaring to the surface with claws unsheathed ready to defend her cubs. What unleashes this primal creature in all mothers? For me, she emerges in two situations. Protecting my children from those who would hurt them and protecting the little idiots from themselves.  

I love each of my children. They are not perfect. But they are, pretty amazing humans. So when they are bullied, called names, mocked for being different, treated poorly by someone that claims to love them, passed over for a job they rightly deserved or taken advantage of by unscrupulous people, the savage protector bursts out, swiping and slashing, verbally eviscerating the threats until my thirst for retribution is quenched. Yes, she can become a little unhinged.

Last week I was scrolling through channels and came upon an animal show about bears in the wild. The mother bear was sitting in a meadow diligently watching her two small cubs play and wrestle around her. One of the cubs wandered away and fell into a hole and couldn’t get out. He cried for his mama until she went over to the hole, pulled him out and set him back with his sibling. A few moments later, the cub did it again and mama rescued him once more. The third time the cub headed towards the hole, the mama bear swiped out with her big paw, knocking her little cub ass-over-tea kettle. Once the tumbling stopped, the cub sat up, shook its head, obediently waddled back to mama bears side and resumed wrestling with his sibling. Never venturing near the hole again.

As I said before, my children are amazing. But there are times, when their ability to be total idiots astounds me. This too will awaken the feral savage that needs to protect them from the most daunting of foes, themselves. There have been many times as a parent, when I have been like that mama bear, rescuing my wayward cubs time and time again only to reach my limit and knock the stubborn little idiots’ ass-over-tea kettle in the hope good sense returns once again. Sometimes it works, but sometimes, it does not. When it doesn’t, the fierce protector in me is forced into hibernation and life is allowed to teach the tough lessons. This is never easy for my mother bear. It goes against her primal instincts to protect. But it must be done even when it hurts.

These savage, fiercely protective creatures, the mother bears lie within all women. For that I am grateful. This makes us great warriors and fierce protectors.

Here's to a Healthy and Happy New Year

2016 is all said and done and 2017 is off and running. It’s a time when we all make New Year’s resolutions, keep them for a few weeks or a few months, if you are lucky. Then beat ourselves up for not keeping them and move on claiming that next year I will do better. I have decided that this year there will be no resolutions made, but there will be promises made to myself. Promises hold more importance to me, they are binding. The past several years for me have been tough. At the end of every year I say the same thing, “I am so glad this year is over.” I am tired of feeling like this. I am not asking for a life void of challenges and heartache, because that is how we learn and become stronger women, but I do want to look at life with a different perspective, live my life with a more positive attitude.

This Christmas, the one present my children wanted was the equipment needed to play our Super Nintendo that we have had for years. It was the most inexpensive and appreciated gift of the day. One evening after a very long twelve hour shift, I walked into our family room to see my oldest son and youngest daughter playing a game on the Nintendo. Together. No fighting. I collapsed on the couch to watch this post-Christmas miracle and simply enjoy the moment. Top Gear was the game they were playing. It is a racing game in which you go as fast as you can on the straight part, navigate with skill the curves and jumps and try and stay on the road. You have a gas gage that you must watch as well, making sure that you have enough fuel to finish the race. There are opportunities during the race to stop and refuel if you choose to. I sat and watched as my kids expertly maneuvered through this race. My daughter chose to stop midway through the race and refuel even though it put her behind her brother. My son chose to not stop and refuel because of his need to beat his sister. The last lap they bumped and jockeyed for the lead. My daughter was quiet but confident in her skills, safe in the knowledge that her fuel was full. My son spent his last lap frantically watching his fuel drop closer and closer to the empty line, whoopin and hollerin at his car to just make it to the finish line.  His gamble paid off, he crossed the finish line first, but by the skin of his teeth. My daughter came in a close second, but with more than enough fuel for a victory lap. She may have come in second, but she OWNED that race. My son? That raced owned him.

That game. That race. I thought about it quite a bit the next few days. THAT is how I want this next year to be! I don’t want to just end this coming year crawling and limping over the finish line because I had forgotten to refuel my tank. I want to make damn sure that I make those pit stops and refuel my tank so that I can cross that finish line, take a victory lap or two, and jump up on the hood of that car and confidently proclaim, “I OWNED THIS YEAR!”

I know saying this is easy, it’s the doing it that I know will be challenging. I am guilty of not taking the time to refuel my mind, my heart, my body and my soul. This year will be different. I have promised myself that every single day I will refuel these important parts of what makes me who I am and will give me the ability to help care for my family and friends. I will exercise my body so that I am around for many more years. I will read more, challenge myself to write, create, and be confident enough to share what I am passionate about. I will nourish my faith and my spirit. I will nurture and grow those friendships that are important to me. This year, I will chose me.

What it all comes down to is this, 2017 will have more fun. More adventures. More sleep. More laughter. Less negativity. Less stress. More creating. More love.

I’m ready. Are you?

A few weeks ago, I was mindlessly scrolling through Facebook when a quote caught my eye. “When you find people who not only tolerate your quirks but celebrate them with cries of “ME TOO!” Be sure to cherish them because those weirdos are your tribe.” I smiled and began to think of the women in my life who I consider my tribe.

My mother and grandmother are the women that first taught me what it meant to be a strong woman, supported me as I figured out how to become that woman, and nurtured me throughout all the ups and downs. The woman who I am today is because of them. Theirs will always be the founding influence of my tribe.

There is an old saying “that you can't choose your family,” but the heavens knew what I needed in a sister and I was blessed with one that is perfect for me. We fought as kids and hated each other on a daily basis. Today, she is a woman I choose to have as my friend. She gets angry on my behalf when I am hurt, she will drop everything when I face life's most serious challenges, and is always there to share those childhood memories and secrets that only sisters have. My sister-in-law holds a special place in my heart too. She is my friend, an aunt that loves my children as much as I do, and a woman I admire. I am grateful my brother chose a woman that I can call my sister.

I consider my daughters part of my tribe. These four girls have challenged me, made me cry, scream in frustration, despair that I will never be what they need, laugh until my sides hurt and have made me incredibly proud to be their mom. They have made me a better mom and woman.

A tribe at work is crucial if you want to preserve your sanity!  At the hospital I work at, they ask the question “Do you have a friend at work?” I answer with a resounding, “Yes!” I not only have a friend, I have my tribe. They are there to encourage me to be my best, commiserate over bad days, volunteer the trunk of their car and a shovel when someone hurts me, and then bring drinks and chocolate when I can’t fix the stupid in my life. These woman are rare, and I am lucky to have them.

There are women who come into my tribe only to stay for a short time. Their time spent in my life was brief, but the impact of their words and deeds will forever be ingrained in my heart, a comfort in times of need.

Then there are the woman I have met through my love for reading and writing. The profound effect they have had in my life is immeasurable. These women have been with me through my greatest despair and my greatest joys. They encourage me, offer wise advice, call me on my foolishness, offer duct tape to quiet the “problems” in my life, and love me despite of all my many flaws.  I have found my passion for writing again and there are two of my tribe that are incredibly talented writers. They are gracious in offering their experience and encouragement to this scared fledgling writer. I owe a debt of gratitude to them.

“I cannot forget the man who stands at the very heart of my tribe, the man who is and will always be my strong, protective champion—my loving husband.  He wants me to be me, the very best me. He willingly takes on the world so that I can escape into mine and create what I love.

It doesn’t matter who is part of your tribe or where you find them. They could be those that you have known all your life, the ones you have carried under your heart, ones you have found at work, ones that share your love of certain things or the one that provides a sheltered home from life’s storms. Whoever they may be, “Be sure to cherish them because those weirdos are your tribe.”

Valentines Day

It is Valentine’s Day, and love has definitely been in the air around our home. My fifteen year-old daughter has been in a constant state of twitterpation this past week! Being twitterpated, according to the Urban Dictionary, is to be completely enamored with someone/something. The flighty exciting feeling you get when you think about/see the object of your affection. The ever increasing acceleration of heartbeat and body temperature as a result of being engulfed amidst the exhilaration and joy of being/having a romantic entity in someone's life. This pretty much sums up what my daughter has been experiencing this past week. It has been a joy sharing this time with her and listening to her tell me about this wonderful cowboy of hers that makes her feel amazing. She was completely over the moon when he first said he really liked her. Holding her hand for the first time and singing to her “Cowboys and Angels” sent her into total bliss. He tells her she is beautiful and sweet, she just melted like a marshmallow over a flame when she told me this. She is head over heels in puppy love and it is just sweet to watch.

I remember a young man I met about thirty years ago that had me twitterpated from the second I looked into his beautiful green eyes. The feelings of exhilaration and joy the first time he took my hand in his, that first kiss that sent my heart fluttering, the overwhelming desire to be with him constantly, and being totally enamored with this man. The memory of being in his arms on my parents back porch with him whispering gently, “I am falling in love with you,” is still one of the best moments of my life. We have been married now for thirty years, and I am still twitterpated.  I love him more today than the first day we met. He makes me feel beautiful and sexy, and he can still send my heart pounding.

I know sometimes life has a way of dulling those first time feelings. We have children, financial burdens, life challenges, and sometimes we don’t stop and take the time to keep those feelings going in a relationship. It is my wish on this Valentines that you will take a moment and remember how you felt that first time, how completely enamored you were. Remember the flighty, exciting feeling when you thought about them, the way your heartbeat would accelerate and your body heated at the thought of being with them. Take the time and return to the wonderful state of being twitterpated.