Since Mom was in the hospital, we’ve been spending a much greater amount and quality of time together. We’ve both been talking about all these very vivid memories and dreams that keep coming to mind. We have been trying to piece together memories and timelines. This is also coinciding with me decluttering … well, my whole life. Below is an example of one of many astounding connections we have come across. This joint time and effort has provided the greatest insight into who my Mom is and how she arrived at herself in the present, as I’m doing the same work myself. It’s beautiful and I am so grateful for it.

THE Note to Self, an epiphany.

Sometimes, when I’m recovering medically, being alone let’s my mind wonder to dark corners. I get really hard on myself. 

My Dad called tonight and he wasn’t having any of it. 

As I cried to him about all the things that keep a middle-aged, single mother up at night, all the things I put away from everyone else, but Dad, he stopped me in my tracks. He told me that HE. ADMIRED. ME. That I was was one of the strongest women he knew because I have survived multiple wounds and sufferings beyond what most people would be crushed beneath singularly. 

I said, “Dad, I just feel like I’m always trying to do the right thing and I keep on coming up short.”

He replied, “You have an adopted special-needs son who would likely be dead if not for you and who you treat just like your own biological children, because he is to you and anyone else who knows you. You advocated for him through everything. You might not have much but you always get what your kids need. You raised some incredibly resilient kiddos. You have life long friends because you’re a wonderful friend. That’s incredibly rare, Stephie. C’mon, give yourself some credit.”

Just as I was going to bed, I started thinking that I had not accomplished as many things as I had wanted to today, when my dog, Zeke, walked into my room. I just looked down at him and smiled, realizing that even on my worst days, I’ve rescued five animals. Things may not be the way we want, but yet, still we have what we need; and no matter what ANYONE else may think or say…my kids still say “I love you, Mommy” and that’s all the things. 

The smallest act of kindness outweighs the grandest intentions.

Mothers Eve

This is the first time in … well, a really long time, that I haven’t been absolutely dreading Mothers Day. 

I could write about the whys and hows that caused this stretch, but I regress. I feel ransomed. Instead, I have decided to write about why I go forward tomorrow.

I go forward because I am a mother. I go forward for my children, because while they may only need me to lead for a little while longer, I will continue to be their mother without their need. Being a mother is seared into every fiber of my being. It’s what I do. Not just for my own children, but with all children whose lives cross my path. I’ve been called into this unknown for as long as I can remember. Every dream I had as a child was to have a child. Sure, I’ve dreamt of traveling to new places and meeting new people, collecting adventures, but the only adventure I was ever certain I could not leave this planet without having stepped into has always been motherhood. 

The most profound moment of my entire life was the one which held the sound of my child’s heart beating from within my womb. That was the moment I became a mother. While most things I’ve once held dear have now been counted as loss, come hell or high water, that moment will always be mine. No one can take it from me. That love and wonder remains the same.

My children are everything to me. I see them. They are too smart for their own good, and ignorant beyond belief all at once. They see me. A God in their wonder, yet another inherently flawed human  wrapped in their unconditional love. I am their greatest teacher, they are mine. That’s the way it goes. We live, we love, we learn. We become. 

From now on, I will celebrate BECOMING a mother. 

That’s my moment. That’s my thing. 

That’s Mothers Eve to me. 

Busy & Bored

I haven’t been around in the blogsphere lately. I keep trying to force myself to write something but the more I think about it, I just don’t want to. I don’t think it’s depression. It doesn’t feel like the kind of depression that I’m typically accustomed to dealing with but, then again, I seem to not recognize my depression as such until I’m past the point in which sitting down to write about it would be helpful. I guess maybe I’m not the best judge on the matter.

I’d like to think it’s more of a distracted state.

We had a hearing on our Motion to bring Pickle home last Tuesday. It was approved with flying colors. I spent the rest of the week running around trying to tie up loose ends and getting other needed pieces in place. He started back at the high school yesterday and is really happy about they way everything has turned out. I was probably more excited about school paperwork than I had ever been or will be. We even filled out his FAFSA for next year. That’s been the good distraction.

While I haven’t been dealing with Pickle stuff, I’ve mostly been laid up with this awful back pain. It has been all consuming, driven me to tears and the brink of madness and other than this brief little statement on the matter, I really don’t feel like diving into the cesspool of stuff surrounding it. I’m just thankful that my epidural spinal injection is tomorrow and that I can at least count on some sort of resolution where the pain goes buh-bye to follow. That’s the bad distraction.

What I’m trying to say is that I’ve either been too busy to write or just flat out not wanting to do much of anything when I don’t have to.