When first asked if I would like to speak at my Mother's Memorial, I declined. I declined several more times during the next few days. I was at a loss of what I could say. What I wanted to say, and how to say it without offending, sounding bitter, and even cold.
Deep in my heart I felt the words stirring. I felt them struggling to the surface. I knew I had to write them out. I had to try and capture what she meant to me all while acknowledging those who made her happy the last few years.
I sat down at my Mother's beautiful marble topped kitchen table. I sat with my back to my oldest son and sister. I tried to block out their chatter over a mobile game on their phones. And somehow, it all fell into place. There on a blue sheet of paper, were my simple words.
The day of the memorial I let the Funeral Director know that I had words in hand. The Chaplain approached me and placed me as the third speaker. I would be the last speaker, I would follow my cousin and her daughter. They spoke beautiful words straight from the heart. Words that added comfort to my heart. To hear how my Mother made them laugh and how they cared for her.
As public speaking goes, I did a little improve, changing the intro and adding in a few words here and there.
I started by thanking all the family and friends in Michigan who reached out to my Mother when she moved there. I thanked them all for making her happy, making her laugh, and taking care of her. It was evident in all that I saw how happy she was. I knew she had finally lived the life she dreamed of.
And then I rolled into my speech.
My love for music was a gift from my mom. For as long as I can remember, she had music playing in the background. Her extensive record collection was the foundation of many great afternoons spent with my sister dancing and singing along to songs that came long before our time. I now know the words to songs from the 50 and 60s all the way up to the present time.
I have an appreciation for Elvis, his music, and his not so great acting. In fact Mother's Day 2005, my sister and I took our Mother to Graceland. We spent the day wandering through museums and gift shops. This was one of my best memories with her.
I haven't always been close to her, but I knew she was there for me in the background. She loved my oldest son unconditionally during the time I struggled to love myself and even him.
We were both full of fire, but we also found a lot of common ground.
Our lives took a turn in 2007 when she moved from Tennessee to Alabama. In a sense that is when I began to know her all while beginning to lose her. I tried to visit her as often as possible. At first it was easy making the drive down there, but then my husband was stationed in West Texas. Over the next several years our relationship evolved to telephone conversations only.
I admit that I didn't try hard enough to find time to visit her. I passed up opportunities to visit her, but I always thought there would be plenty of time. It was my dream to one day be close to her. To have a picture perfect relationship, but in reality that only happened when I was pregnant with my oldest son.
My Mother is a big part of who I am today. I can find her in my inability to neatly pack a suitcase, which was something she excelled at. She is the only person I have ever known that could fold a fitted sheet correctly. She excelled at ironing and using starch with amazing efficiency. She always had a tissue handy and would leave a trail of tissues wherever she went. Her meatloaf is the only meatloaf I have ever loved, and will probably ever eat. The edges were burned to just the right consistency, something I have never mastered. She is the reason I love popcorn. I'll never forget how she would pop up some popcorn almost every night. She is the one who taught me how to expertly hide and secretly eat pringles and chocolate.
I know I wasn't as close to her as I wished to be after she moved from Alabama to Michigan, but she was always in my thoughts.
Dedicated to my Mother Carol L. Smithson February 22 1947-January 17, 2018
also to my aunts, her sisters and all my cousins in Jackson Michigan that loved her and made her happy.
January 28, 2018
Sunday, January 28, 2018
Wednesday, June 28, 2017
Until It Happens To You
Summer time is upon us. Sunny days mixed with rainy days.
New tentative friendships that appear to be growing roots.
Things feel as if they are good. Laughter from kids playing, talking and laughing over drinks in a back yard.
Danger lurking, trotting, huffing, and licking the children.
When one moment finds you laughing and the next someone is wiping your child's blood off your arm. Where there are tears and loud voices and a blur of movement and emotions.
The culprit a dog. A big dog. A Siberian Husky. That just knocked my child to the ground and bit him on the head. All this seemingly unprovoked.
I see the owners tears for her dog, for my child, for the broken moments of innocence.
I see the blood being wiped from my child's head, as he cries in the floor and all I can do is look on.
Calm is all over me. I am sad for all that are there. My heart heavy for what has happened.
When off to the emergency room we are whisked, I sit in numb silence. I keep telling myself that this dog is not a mean a dog. Yet I cannot figure out why this dog would do this. I want to reassure the family that I am not angry.
The truth is, I haven't had time to get angry yet. I am still processing all that is going on.
I hold my child as they put five staples in his head. I want to cry right along without shedding a tear for the tears will not come.
Once home I help my child into the shower to wash away the blood.
But morning dawns too brightly much too soon and it is still so fresh.
I reach out to the family who by this point have become distant. They do not offer any more words of encouragement or condolence. They do not offer to pay for the prescription.
As I knew he would be, my husband is beyond angry. This is only made worse by the distance of miles between us.
I know what I must do and as a storm rolls in, I make the call to report the incident.
I feel somewhat reassured and discouraged.
But when I contact my housing community I quickly learn that no action will be taken because they must go according to what is stated in the police report and that is the dog was provoked.
I obtain my copy and read four witness statements that are nearly identical and all state that my children were basically torturing their dog. They would not leave the dog alone and that I was told but did nothing.
They also stated that my kids were mean to our dog, funny since two of them never saw my children interact with my dog.
The report made my blood boil and the tears threaten to spill. The need for vengeance and all I know would be for naught.
When I talked to the last person that was there, I was told that there were a few instances where my child was close to the dog and the dog removed himself from the situation.
My anger somewhat abated. But not fully.
Beware of taking your kids to houses with dogs you aren't fully knowledgeable about. I walked away from this knowing that my most likely SPD son was probably making jerky sudden movements and startled a dog into knocking him to the ground. I did not have my eyes fully on the dog or my child and in that I am wrong. This does not excuse the dog by any means. It does not make me a bad mother or them a bad dog owner.
Friendships are ruined and blood has been spilled. I am another step closer to my breaking point.
June 28 2017
New tentative friendships that appear to be growing roots.
Things feel as if they are good. Laughter from kids playing, talking and laughing over drinks in a back yard.
Danger lurking, trotting, huffing, and licking the children.
When one moment finds you laughing and the next someone is wiping your child's blood off your arm. Where there are tears and loud voices and a blur of movement and emotions.
The culprit a dog. A big dog. A Siberian Husky. That just knocked my child to the ground and bit him on the head. All this seemingly unprovoked.
I see the owners tears for her dog, for my child, for the broken moments of innocence.
I see the blood being wiped from my child's head, as he cries in the floor and all I can do is look on.
Calm is all over me. I am sad for all that are there. My heart heavy for what has happened.
When off to the emergency room we are whisked, I sit in numb silence. I keep telling myself that this dog is not a mean a dog. Yet I cannot figure out why this dog would do this. I want to reassure the family that I am not angry.
The truth is, I haven't had time to get angry yet. I am still processing all that is going on.
I hold my child as they put five staples in his head. I want to cry right along without shedding a tear for the tears will not come.
Once home I help my child into the shower to wash away the blood.
But morning dawns too brightly much too soon and it is still so fresh.
I reach out to the family who by this point have become distant. They do not offer any more words of encouragement or condolence. They do not offer to pay for the prescription.
As I knew he would be, my husband is beyond angry. This is only made worse by the distance of miles between us.
I know what I must do and as a storm rolls in, I make the call to report the incident.
I feel somewhat reassured and discouraged.
But when I contact my housing community I quickly learn that no action will be taken because they must go according to what is stated in the police report and that is the dog was provoked.
I obtain my copy and read four witness statements that are nearly identical and all state that my children were basically torturing their dog. They would not leave the dog alone and that I was told but did nothing.
They also stated that my kids were mean to our dog, funny since two of them never saw my children interact with my dog.
The report made my blood boil and the tears threaten to spill. The need for vengeance and all I know would be for naught.
When I talked to the last person that was there, I was told that there were a few instances where my child was close to the dog and the dog removed himself from the situation.
My anger somewhat abated. But not fully.
Beware of taking your kids to houses with dogs you aren't fully knowledgeable about. I walked away from this knowing that my most likely SPD son was probably making jerky sudden movements and startled a dog into knocking him to the ground. I did not have my eyes fully on the dog or my child and in that I am wrong. This does not excuse the dog by any means. It does not make me a bad mother or them a bad dog owner.
Friendships are ruined and blood has been spilled. I am another step closer to my breaking point.
June 28 2017
Monday, June 12, 2017
Missng You
Seductive music
glass of wine
swaying in the darkness of a quiet house
sloshing glass of wine
closed eyes
Remember
his touch
his arms wrapped tightly around me
feeling his strength
He won't let me give in to my weakness
no crying for me
Stronger than I know and pushing through
But here in the darkness
with him away
again
Love songs on the radio
Love songs that make you miss them so much more
The endless days
The nights full of twisted dreams
waking alone
sometimes the nightmares are so bad that waking alone won't shake them off
Knowing that this will pass is not enough
I need him
He is my rock
my other half
The dance we dance is ours
just enough push and pull from each of us
Hurting
but he doesn't know this
I won't tell him
Yearning for a beer somedays
longing for a smoke other days
so badly I can feel them and taste them
Weakness I am weak
But aren't we all?
Olivia J Stuart
June 1 2017
glass of wine
swaying in the darkness of a quiet house
sloshing glass of wine
closed eyes
Remember
his touch
his arms wrapped tightly around me
feeling his strength
He won't let me give in to my weakness
no crying for me
Stronger than I know and pushing through
But here in the darkness
with him away
again
Love songs on the radio
Love songs that make you miss them so much more
The endless days
The nights full of twisted dreams
waking alone
sometimes the nightmares are so bad that waking alone won't shake them off
Knowing that this will pass is not enough
I need him
He is my rock
my other half
The dance we dance is ours
just enough push and pull from each of us
Hurting
but he doesn't know this
I won't tell him
Yearning for a beer somedays
longing for a smoke other days
so badly I can feel them and taste them
Weakness I am weak
But aren't we all?
Olivia J Stuart
June 1 2017
Thursday, June 1, 2017
Youth Slipping Away
Who am I
Lost in a whirl of memories and happening now
Feeling the youth slipping away, the music attempting to burst forth from my soul
falling flat.
Empty radio stations, old CDs
nothing that can speak the volumes that are straining at the restraints
A tired routine
day in and day out
the same tiny strip of road.
My life contained between an elementary school and my house.
Fear or depression
maybe loneliness
where is my desire to be free? To sing and dance
I wish to feel ALIVE
I feel confused, lost, sad, angry, happy, in love
I am all that I never dreamed I would be
I used to be cool before the Saturn Ion or the minivan
The music used to vibrate from my soul out into the world
the story of my life was there for all to see
it was not confined to and endless winter and spring with lying sunshine and never ending rain
I am wilting
like a flower
my youth is over
Middle age
yes I am there
knocking on that door of old age
My soul is in denial
I want to be the bad ass chick
certainly the powerful woman mom who rocked it at the gym
Losing my identity
each endless second that ticks by
Losing my identity
through dreams and nightmares
Each day I rise I feel a certain way that I cannot name. A memory my body is not letting go, but not fully brining forth.
I wish to lose myself just one day night
to become the fire breathing being that I used to be
that anger grips my heart tightly some days
Cursing at the moon the stars the wind
I feel it like a breathing dragon
like the goddess I used to think I was
Sinner that I was
Mother and wife that I am
Be content
Be thankful
Embrace the new era
Feel forever Thirty not the eleven years more
Grasp every moment and unleash the fire
Olivia J Stuart
June 1 2017
Lost in a whirl of memories and happening now
Feeling the youth slipping away, the music attempting to burst forth from my soul
falling flat.
Empty radio stations, old CDs
nothing that can speak the volumes that are straining at the restraints
A tired routine
day in and day out
the same tiny strip of road.
My life contained between an elementary school and my house.
Fear or depression
maybe loneliness
where is my desire to be free? To sing and dance
I wish to feel ALIVE
I feel confused, lost, sad, angry, happy, in love
I am all that I never dreamed I would be
I used to be cool before the Saturn Ion or the minivan
The music used to vibrate from my soul out into the world
the story of my life was there for all to see
it was not confined to and endless winter and spring with lying sunshine and never ending rain
I am wilting
like a flower
my youth is over
Middle age
yes I am there
knocking on that door of old age
My soul is in denial
I want to be the bad ass chick
certainly the powerful woman mom who rocked it at the gym
Losing my identity
each endless second that ticks by
Losing my identity
through dreams and nightmares
Each day I rise I feel a certain way that I cannot name. A memory my body is not letting go, but not fully brining forth.
I wish to lose myself just one day night
to become the fire breathing being that I used to be
that anger grips my heart tightly some days
Cursing at the moon the stars the wind
I feel it like a breathing dragon
like the goddess I used to think I was
Sinner that I was
Mother and wife that I am
Be content
Be thankful
Embrace the new era
Feel forever Thirty not the eleven years more
Grasp every moment and unleash the fire
Olivia J Stuart
June 1 2017
Friday, April 21, 2017
Four Days, Three Nights
In the madness of my mind, possibly driven by the desire to earn more, I accepted a job that was too much. I trusted a parent to provide nutritional assistance, I assume to my expectations. When this did not prove true I felt the wind leave my sails. I stare down at chicken fries, fruit loops, cereal bars, boxed waffles, and several boxes of macaroni and cheese. Not even the good kind of Macaroni and cheese. I look at the mom who appears to be confident that this little bit of food will be all her precious babes will need to eat during their extended stay. I know this is not going to be the case. I am concerned because I asked for fruit and none was brought. $150 that is what I agreed to and now I know it was not enough. It isn't really about the dollar amount, more about the need to provide adequate sustenance for their stay.
Moving beyond this, and beginning Day 1. This included an appointment for one of my own. The first meltdown was over car seats anchored in the van by their father. When the little girl realizes she will be in the grey seat so her brother can sit next to my son. My son who is unable to ride in his booster seat due to the large seat next to him. Kudos to mom for the added safety. Two kids dropped at a sitter, three kids in tow. The appointment goes without a hitch. Home again and the non ending pounding, screaming, arguing, non sharing pandemonium begins.
I am not quite sure how I survived those first few hours, but I did.
By lunch I knew I was in over my head. I have five kids asking, no rather demanding their food immediately and drinks to boot. I am struggling to make peanut butter and jelly, cheese roll ups and serve drinks. By the time it is on the table I am barely breathing and slathered in my calming essential oils. Our dinner was even worse. I wanted to make the requested tacos for my son, but the supposed vegetarians visiting us wanted no part of them. This is fine. I begin the task of making tacos and macaroni and cheese. What seemed an easy task was not. We again got through this, but not without me raising my voice.
Spilled drinks have become a reality in this new existence. As well as repeating my mantra "Sit on your bottoms at the table." I begin to realize that table manners and saying Grace are slightly new concepts. I haven't reduced anyone to tears yet, but I am nearly there.
Cleaning the mess and moving on toward the afternoon. Four more kids and even more ensuing chaos. I change diapers once every two hours per mother's request. I listen to a six year old complain, whine, tell me how to properly care for her twin baby brothers. I watch her share a stuffed chicken only to rip it from the arms of another child. I decide to begin bedtime routine and sit on the floor surrounded by two babies one toddler and three school aged kiddos and three preschoolers. Chaos does not cover this. I do read three stories and a Bible story. Five kiddos are moved to bedtime. Two boys in one room three girls in the other. It only took two hours for each of them to sleep and the other four to be picked up. I fall into bed exhausted.
Waking at 5:45 the next morning, I hear the two boys stirring. I send them downstairs to quietly play a video game, grab a quick shower and then brew coffee. By the time I have another girl added to the first six, I know this is going to be a long, long day. Breakfast was more panic and mayhem as I waded through making pancakes and toasting waffles. I serve juice and chug coffee. Lunch was crazy but went well. Added three more to my day. When all but the original six have left, it is time to load the van and run to the grocery store. This is where I will say that I admire all who have five kids. It is no easy task to work your way through a simple list in a grocery store with so many little voices in your buggy and attempting to keep up. I received many looks of pity others of annoyance as I struggled to maneuver the giant buggy through the aisles. By the time I have everyone in the van and home I am exhausted.
Hot dogs for dinner. I am crazy, I know that I am. Four kids eat a hot dog, one kid wants one but after taking a big bite and realizing it is a cheese dog she proceeds to spit it out on her plate at the table. I know this will sound bad, but I nearly lost my shit. I slammed a knife down onto the table proceeding to pretty much yell at her that she was told they were cheese dogs, she is wasting food, why on earth did she spit it out at the table and not into the trashcan. I felt like shit after this episode and tried to console her while mentally putting my crazy back into the bad. This was a turning point for me. This is where I realized that I didn't ask for enough money and these kids are beyond picky and that this family cannot possibly be true vegetarians.
We got through dinner and baths and then at story time when we sit down to read the stories and the Bible story the little girl says she doesn't like the Bible and that it is boring. I realize that not all families teach their children this. But I am upfront. Not only am I a crazy Tennessee girl who loves essential oils, we say grace and we read Bible stories. I hope I plant seeds. The little boy was enthralled and carrying around our Bible storybook the entire time he was here. I gave him one of our story books that we had picked up somewhere. By the time they left, even the little girl was thumbing through it.
I reduced the little girl to tears again the following night. As a mother of three, my biggest struggle is getting kids to be independent and to do things without being told. It is an unrealistic expectation, but one I cannot push aside no matter how hard I try. So as I am trying to get myself and the dog upstairs the little boy runs frantically down the stairs yelling his baby sister is dancing naked in the hallway. I run up there, pick her up and rush her to the girl room. I yell at the older sister to get in there and then tell her she should have tried harder to prevent this from happening. It was a bad moment. A moment that is actually giving me nightmares. In our house we do not let the kids see each other naked. We try to teach them modesty. I am not sure what goes on in their home, I am not passing judgment, but it was awkward for each of us.
As a babysitter it is my job to keep them safe to watch them and guide them, but not to change them. I think I was trying way too hard this time around and it left me angry on the inside and annoyed at the mother. I hope that her little ones went home with happy memories and not of an overbearing annoying and loud babysitter who was frantically trying to serve them food. I was annoyed by their eating habits. I was annoyed by their lack of manners. I was annoyed by how one would absolutely never listen. Time out was the only way to drive the point home. One would only half listen thus ending up with food or something she really didn't want.
I watched as the youngest refused bananas, oranges and strawberries. Agreeing on apples sliced, but eating them only to the peel. I watched these kids balk at the idea that I had set snack times and what they good be. Morning snack is always fruit. I tried to explain to the mom what we did and she seemed to blow me off in a fake sounding voice with a fake sounding laugh. I wanted to cry I wanted to squelch my anger, but it was only growing.
When pick up day arrived the mom starts messaging at six that she won't be home until much later than promised. This affects my entire day and my entire mood. By the end of the day it is too difficult to respond to her messages. I give much more flexibility in routine in order to allow the kids to enjoy this last day. I am reading the messages realizing that this lady doesn't care about my routine, or my schedule. That she has no idea how difficult it is to get to speech appointments with just my kids let alone adding three more.
By the time she picks up nearly four hours late, she doesn't make eye contact, her answers are short. I can tell that she is at the same place I am. That though I don't want to relate to her, we are the same. We are both annoyed, a little angry and wanting the exchange to be over. She wants her babies and I want an evening alone with mine.
I know I will never watch her kids alone. I also nearly cried when my son invited two of the kids to his party, but I know I must put that aside for my son. Her and I are years apart in age. We are two very different personalities and mothers.
Thank God we all survived
April 21 2017
Moving beyond this, and beginning Day 1. This included an appointment for one of my own. The first meltdown was over car seats anchored in the van by their father. When the little girl realizes she will be in the grey seat so her brother can sit next to my son. My son who is unable to ride in his booster seat due to the large seat next to him. Kudos to mom for the added safety. Two kids dropped at a sitter, three kids in tow. The appointment goes without a hitch. Home again and the non ending pounding, screaming, arguing, non sharing pandemonium begins.
I am not quite sure how I survived those first few hours, but I did.
By lunch I knew I was in over my head. I have five kids asking, no rather demanding their food immediately and drinks to boot. I am struggling to make peanut butter and jelly, cheese roll ups and serve drinks. By the time it is on the table I am barely breathing and slathered in my calming essential oils. Our dinner was even worse. I wanted to make the requested tacos for my son, but the supposed vegetarians visiting us wanted no part of them. This is fine. I begin the task of making tacos and macaroni and cheese. What seemed an easy task was not. We again got through this, but not without me raising my voice.
Spilled drinks have become a reality in this new existence. As well as repeating my mantra "Sit on your bottoms at the table." I begin to realize that table manners and saying Grace are slightly new concepts. I haven't reduced anyone to tears yet, but I am nearly there.
Cleaning the mess and moving on toward the afternoon. Four more kids and even more ensuing chaos. I change diapers once every two hours per mother's request. I listen to a six year old complain, whine, tell me how to properly care for her twin baby brothers. I watch her share a stuffed chicken only to rip it from the arms of another child. I decide to begin bedtime routine and sit on the floor surrounded by two babies one toddler and three school aged kiddos and three preschoolers. Chaos does not cover this. I do read three stories and a Bible story. Five kiddos are moved to bedtime. Two boys in one room three girls in the other. It only took two hours for each of them to sleep and the other four to be picked up. I fall into bed exhausted.
Waking at 5:45 the next morning, I hear the two boys stirring. I send them downstairs to quietly play a video game, grab a quick shower and then brew coffee. By the time I have another girl added to the first six, I know this is going to be a long, long day. Breakfast was more panic and mayhem as I waded through making pancakes and toasting waffles. I serve juice and chug coffee. Lunch was crazy but went well. Added three more to my day. When all but the original six have left, it is time to load the van and run to the grocery store. This is where I will say that I admire all who have five kids. It is no easy task to work your way through a simple list in a grocery store with so many little voices in your buggy and attempting to keep up. I received many looks of pity others of annoyance as I struggled to maneuver the giant buggy through the aisles. By the time I have everyone in the van and home I am exhausted.
Hot dogs for dinner. I am crazy, I know that I am. Four kids eat a hot dog, one kid wants one but after taking a big bite and realizing it is a cheese dog she proceeds to spit it out on her plate at the table. I know this will sound bad, but I nearly lost my shit. I slammed a knife down onto the table proceeding to pretty much yell at her that she was told they were cheese dogs, she is wasting food, why on earth did she spit it out at the table and not into the trashcan. I felt like shit after this episode and tried to console her while mentally putting my crazy back into the bad. This was a turning point for me. This is where I realized that I didn't ask for enough money and these kids are beyond picky and that this family cannot possibly be true vegetarians.
We got through dinner and baths and then at story time when we sit down to read the stories and the Bible story the little girl says she doesn't like the Bible and that it is boring. I realize that not all families teach their children this. But I am upfront. Not only am I a crazy Tennessee girl who loves essential oils, we say grace and we read Bible stories. I hope I plant seeds. The little boy was enthralled and carrying around our Bible storybook the entire time he was here. I gave him one of our story books that we had picked up somewhere. By the time they left, even the little girl was thumbing through it.
I reduced the little girl to tears again the following night. As a mother of three, my biggest struggle is getting kids to be independent and to do things without being told. It is an unrealistic expectation, but one I cannot push aside no matter how hard I try. So as I am trying to get myself and the dog upstairs the little boy runs frantically down the stairs yelling his baby sister is dancing naked in the hallway. I run up there, pick her up and rush her to the girl room. I yell at the older sister to get in there and then tell her she should have tried harder to prevent this from happening. It was a bad moment. A moment that is actually giving me nightmares. In our house we do not let the kids see each other naked. We try to teach them modesty. I am not sure what goes on in their home, I am not passing judgment, but it was awkward for each of us.
As a babysitter it is my job to keep them safe to watch them and guide them, but not to change them. I think I was trying way too hard this time around and it left me angry on the inside and annoyed at the mother. I hope that her little ones went home with happy memories and not of an overbearing annoying and loud babysitter who was frantically trying to serve them food. I was annoyed by their eating habits. I was annoyed by their lack of manners. I was annoyed by how one would absolutely never listen. Time out was the only way to drive the point home. One would only half listen thus ending up with food or something she really didn't want.
I watched as the youngest refused bananas, oranges and strawberries. Agreeing on apples sliced, but eating them only to the peel. I watched these kids balk at the idea that I had set snack times and what they good be. Morning snack is always fruit. I tried to explain to the mom what we did and she seemed to blow me off in a fake sounding voice with a fake sounding laugh. I wanted to cry I wanted to squelch my anger, but it was only growing.
When pick up day arrived the mom starts messaging at six that she won't be home until much later than promised. This affects my entire day and my entire mood. By the end of the day it is too difficult to respond to her messages. I give much more flexibility in routine in order to allow the kids to enjoy this last day. I am reading the messages realizing that this lady doesn't care about my routine, or my schedule. That she has no idea how difficult it is to get to speech appointments with just my kids let alone adding three more.
By the time she picks up nearly four hours late, she doesn't make eye contact, her answers are short. I can tell that she is at the same place I am. That though I don't want to relate to her, we are the same. We are both annoyed, a little angry and wanting the exchange to be over. She wants her babies and I want an evening alone with mine.
I know I will never watch her kids alone. I also nearly cried when my son invited two of the kids to his party, but I know I must put that aside for my son. Her and I are years apart in age. We are two very different personalities and mothers.
Thank God we all survived
April 21 2017
Saturday, April 8, 2017
Occupational Chaos
Rising early in the morning and grabbing a quick shower and starting a pot of coffee. Getting my son up and going. A quick breakfast for him. The morning news, chugging coffee eating quickly.
The arrival can be calm or chaotic depending on the day. Shoes and jackets cast aside in search of toys or cartoons. Crying or shouting in glee, it can go either way. A quick word wishing mommy a good time and a deep breath for me.
Essential oils diffusing offering peace and calming. My skin saturated in them for the little ones to inhale as I hug them or talk to them.
Bananas, apples, and oranges. Muffins from my own kitchen made with love and prayers to share and bless all who partake.
Listening to little ones tell me about their home, their pet, what they like to eat. Watching them play and interact. Becoming a moderator and a mentor.
In any given day there can be tears, and tiny upset over the injustice of another's actions. There can be laughter and squeals of delight and thousands of questions. My little Chihuahua will be running for his life one minute and sleeping contentedly on the couch the next. A tiny pretend terror barking as all newcomers enter our home.
Standing a lot, stolen moments of sitting down don't last long. Hardly eating, instead waiting on my daughter to decide she doesn't want all of her food. Should I sit down to eat, it is interrupted by pleas for more of something, cleaning a spill, grabbing napkins, wiping faces, helping a little one to eat.
I give my all each and every day. My kids are learning that all are welcomed and friends. They look forward to a full house. I cherish my downtime, our downtime days, while my kids are asking for their new friends.
Not much time to miss the husband. But I do miss him. I do imagine him should he walk into one of my days. What would he see? The toys spread all over the place? The crumbs on the floor that I hadn't gotten swept up because I was changing diapers, wiping bottoms helping stack blocks?
I love my newfound chaos. I look at it as a blessing. Not just my blessing, but for those who need a safe place for their little one to play. The financial side is a perk a way to establish my place in the dynamic of the family finances.
The laughter makes my house sound full. The patter of little feet makes my heart sing. I myself will not be adding to our little brood, this is a way for me to hug a tiny baby, experience the joys of a beginner walker. To watch kids learn to interact with each other. A way to teach friendship, team work, cooperation and problem solving. Table manners are practiced, grace is recited. Ah to hear those little ones eagerly reciting grace on their own. My heart is truly full.
I have moments where I am asking myself what I am doing? Moments where I am sure I cannot possibly do this another day. But then I look at those tiny faces and I know it is all worth it.
Serving lunch is pure craziness. It can be grilled cheese, peanut butter and jelly, peanut butter and fluff, or peanut butter and bread. Throw in a hot dog then drink orders. The little ones wiggle and jiggle eating and laughing and learning how to sit at the table. Drinks are spilled, food is dropped, tiny faces are covered in their food. And I know I made this possible, I shared my love and I made them happy. Not all are happy, and some days aren't so fun. But ultimately it is a blessing to be surrounded by so many little people
April 8 2017
The arrival can be calm or chaotic depending on the day. Shoes and jackets cast aside in search of toys or cartoons. Crying or shouting in glee, it can go either way. A quick word wishing mommy a good time and a deep breath for me.
Essential oils diffusing offering peace and calming. My skin saturated in them for the little ones to inhale as I hug them or talk to them.
Bananas, apples, and oranges. Muffins from my own kitchen made with love and prayers to share and bless all who partake.
Listening to little ones tell me about their home, their pet, what they like to eat. Watching them play and interact. Becoming a moderator and a mentor.
In any given day there can be tears, and tiny upset over the injustice of another's actions. There can be laughter and squeals of delight and thousands of questions. My little Chihuahua will be running for his life one minute and sleeping contentedly on the couch the next. A tiny pretend terror barking as all newcomers enter our home.
Standing a lot, stolen moments of sitting down don't last long. Hardly eating, instead waiting on my daughter to decide she doesn't want all of her food. Should I sit down to eat, it is interrupted by pleas for more of something, cleaning a spill, grabbing napkins, wiping faces, helping a little one to eat.
I give my all each and every day. My kids are learning that all are welcomed and friends. They look forward to a full house. I cherish my downtime, our downtime days, while my kids are asking for their new friends.
Not much time to miss the husband. But I do miss him. I do imagine him should he walk into one of my days. What would he see? The toys spread all over the place? The crumbs on the floor that I hadn't gotten swept up because I was changing diapers, wiping bottoms helping stack blocks?
I love my newfound chaos. I look at it as a blessing. Not just my blessing, but for those who need a safe place for their little one to play. The financial side is a perk a way to establish my place in the dynamic of the family finances.
The laughter makes my house sound full. The patter of little feet makes my heart sing. I myself will not be adding to our little brood, this is a way for me to hug a tiny baby, experience the joys of a beginner walker. To watch kids learn to interact with each other. A way to teach friendship, team work, cooperation and problem solving. Table manners are practiced, grace is recited. Ah to hear those little ones eagerly reciting grace on their own. My heart is truly full.
I have moments where I am asking myself what I am doing? Moments where I am sure I cannot possibly do this another day. But then I look at those tiny faces and I know it is all worth it.
Serving lunch is pure craziness. It can be grilled cheese, peanut butter and jelly, peanut butter and fluff, or peanut butter and bread. Throw in a hot dog then drink orders. The little ones wiggle and jiggle eating and laughing and learning how to sit at the table. Drinks are spilled, food is dropped, tiny faces are covered in their food. And I know I made this possible, I shared my love and I made them happy. Not all are happy, and some days aren't so fun. But ultimately it is a blessing to be surrounded by so many little people
April 8 2017
Thirty Days
Darkness, snowy, rainy, muddy, sunny, freezing
DARKNESS
Slowly giving into the light
Slowly changing from the cold to the warmth
Weather that chills me to the bone
takes me down to the depths of my soul, laying bare the emotions
Hurt, despair, happiness, sadness, loneliness, love
LOVE
For him, for the man of my dreams
Through technologies grace communication flourishes, or attempts to do so
Confusion
The definition of us, of you, of me
Who are we?
8 years later
Our marriage, stronger or weaker
Leaves us both asking "Are we okay?"
Giving over to the emotions and demands of wife and mother
But lost deep inside
Unsure of who I am or am meant to be or what I am meant to do
I cannot imagine life without you
Yet daily I am without you
As you have become a face on a phone a voice on the line
Untouchable due to distance
Not sharing the depths of your soul, keeping your emotions in check
Hard in this one way. Not offering tenderness, romance
MAN
In the deepest sense of it all, you are a man
Hard with a tender heart buried deep inside of you
The light shining through for your kids, pushing aside the wife who waited for you and nurtured your kids.
The wife who wakes daily in a dream waiting for you to show appreciation and tenderness.
EXPECTATIONS
unrealistic at times, afraid of the emotions I so often lay bare
WOMAN selfish at times, yearning for a lost self a new self a well being of deep forgiveness.
IN the end, I will still be here.
The smile you see across the distance, the encouragement you hear, the caregiver of your needs and the children.
IN the end I will have lived a full life of penance for the failures of childhood and early adulthood.
My fingers will forever search the unending darkness seeking a lost child
CHILD who is growing into a man so very far from the heartstrings of a mother.
Lost to her and to all around him
Angry and lost seeking out the love and adoration he never fully received as a child.
God bring us through it all
Olivia J. Stuart
April 8 2017
DARKNESS
Slowly giving into the light
Slowly changing from the cold to the warmth
Weather that chills me to the bone
takes me down to the depths of my soul, laying bare the emotions
Hurt, despair, happiness, sadness, loneliness, love
LOVE
For him, for the man of my dreams
Through technologies grace communication flourishes, or attempts to do so
Confusion
The definition of us, of you, of me
Who are we?
8 years later
Our marriage, stronger or weaker
Leaves us both asking "Are we okay?"
Giving over to the emotions and demands of wife and mother
But lost deep inside
Unsure of who I am or am meant to be or what I am meant to do
I cannot imagine life without you
Yet daily I am without you
As you have become a face on a phone a voice on the line
Untouchable due to distance
Not sharing the depths of your soul, keeping your emotions in check
Hard in this one way. Not offering tenderness, romance
MAN
In the deepest sense of it all, you are a man
Hard with a tender heart buried deep inside of you
The light shining through for your kids, pushing aside the wife who waited for you and nurtured your kids.
The wife who wakes daily in a dream waiting for you to show appreciation and tenderness.
EXPECTATIONS
unrealistic at times, afraid of the emotions I so often lay bare
WOMAN selfish at times, yearning for a lost self a new self a well being of deep forgiveness.
IN the end, I will still be here.
The smile you see across the distance, the encouragement you hear, the caregiver of your needs and the children.
IN the end I will have lived a full life of penance for the failures of childhood and early adulthood.
My fingers will forever search the unending darkness seeking a lost child
CHILD who is growing into a man so very far from the heartstrings of a mother.
Lost to her and to all around him
Angry and lost seeking out the love and adoration he never fully received as a child.
God bring us through it all
Olivia J. Stuart
April 8 2017
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