Blog Love

I love when I find a new blog to read. It makes me realise how many wonderful, beautiful woman there are out there who go through the same things I do on a daily basis. Only sometimes they seem to have a better sense of humour about it.

I have a wide variety of Mommy-bloggers who I love to read. They bring inspiration and clarity sometimes when I feel like I need it the most. It's like a therapy session without breaking the bank, it's a friendship without any effort, it's an understanding without the judgement. I love the world of blogging.

I have read so many blogs about lives torn apart and rebuilt by a number of different things. The thing I love is the pure honesty with which some woman write, they say things "out loud" that I can only think. It seems sometimes I am so afraid to say how I feel out loud that instead I just internalise it and I drive myself crazy. Well honestly, I drive myself and everyone around me (i.e. the hub) crazy! I think I'm a horrible person, a horrible wife, a horrible Mother, a horrible friend. The reality is, I'm only normal. Wow-who woulda thunk...me...NORMAL.

Whoa!

I sometimes feel so bogged down by the "woe is me" syndrome that I forget I'm not the only woman in the world who has endured struggles and who hates herself from time to time. I'm just one of so many beautiful souls out there trying to figure out life as it goes.

I envy the honesty, I envy the way they can come out and say the things that eat me up. But my goal from now on is to no longer envy but to join the ranks of the brutally honest and come out and just say it-damn it. Arghh, does this mean I need to break down my carefully built wall? I guess so.

Let the exorcism begin.

Not today though.

Debbie Downer Alert!!!!

So I have this insane thing about having to come into work in the morning and open my internet to CNN. I read every story I can, including all the ones that send utter horror waves through my body to the core of my soul. I don't know why I read some of the stuff I do. Clearly I'm not emotionally equipped to deal with most of it. I'll open a story, read it and then sit and sob at my desk. Most times these are the stories about children being hurt or killed. I then will sit and stare at my screen with pictures of my babies on it and cry some more while I think about how utterly horrible it would be if something happened to one of them.

Last night I was watching Hopkins...again...probably shouldn't be watching that either. But there was a story on there about a little 9 year old who drowned at a birthday party, and while she wasn't dead so-to-speak, she was brain-dead and her parents were faced with the decision of having to turn off her life support. I can't think how hard that would be. In reality though, my parents went through that with me. I never realised the extent of the trauma my illness brought to them, I never gave them enough credit for the incredible strength they found during that time. Being a Mom, now I realise how hard that time must have been for them. I cannot imagine the desperation of knowing that your child is gone...forever!

After Skylar's choking incident I'm still a mess. Yesterday I was driving to pick them up from daycare and something got me thinking back to that moment and I felt the panic rushing through my body, the panic that consumes me to where I can hardly breath and almost have to stop the car to slap myself and get a grip. This will haunt me forever. I cannot for one minute imagine how I would find strength to wake up the next day if something awful happened to one of my kids. I'm sure like so many parents, you find that strength, and I applaud those people, I applaud that incredible will to go on despite the hurt that they have to carry every day.

We know a family who is going through so much right now. Their little boy had a choking accident at daycare and stopped breathing for 3 to 5 minutes. He died at the daycare but was revived by the paramedics, he then died two other times and revived. His parents were told he would be in a permanent vegetative state for the rest of his life, but over the last three years he has made remarkable progress, while he will never heal completely he is a bright beautiful light. I was looking at his care page and the photo’s, his little sister by his side smiling and hugging him in so many of those. What an incredible family, they have been through so much and they fight every day for him. He is surrounded by angels who love him so much. I had to stop reading (imagine that), too much for me to handle. It’s strange how I never have recollection of my time spent with a trach fighting for my life, but looking at him, reading his story is more than I can take, it’s too painful. I’ll say it again-what an incredible family, they live with so much hope and courage and love.

Whoa! A heavy load for the day. What a post to mark my three week hiatus from writing. I've just not felt the urge in the last couple weeks. It's either I have too much to say and can't get it all out or I feel like I have nothing to say at all. So has been the last month for me. Sometimes life is harder to digest than other times.

It's been an incredible month though in the lives of the little people who keep me smiling. Ethan is finally walking and talks a lot more now. Skylar is beautiful as always, she has the gentlest, sweetest nature and is so loving. I soak up all the love she throws at me. I feel so guilty sometimes for being frustrated with aspects of my life, I look around and I'm a lucky girl. I feel guilty when I cry for me. I wonder if I have anything to cry about, and how much should I expect, how frustrated do I need to feel...and do I really need to be so hard on myself all the time?

It's been a long, strange, beautiful month.Now I need to pull my head out my ass and focus again. Focus on the good and forgive, and love and dream and get back to being funny instead of so damn serious. Life is beautiful isn’t it. I read CNN and I’m horrified at the things people do to each other but in the same breath I read about AJ and I’m full of hope again.

B-I-N-G-O

And Bingo was his name-O! I have this ridiculous song stuck in my head thanks to Skylars new found singing talents and her incessant need to hum a tune. Of all the songs...seriously? Even Yankee Doodle would be a better choice at this point.

So my little girl is now a whopping three years old. This is a bitter sweet process, watching them grow and learn and change. I yearn for the days when I could hold her tiny little body close and feel her nuzzle into my neck, the way Ethan still does, but at the same time I love all the new things I get to experience with her. I love the big hugs and kisses that she is capable of now, the (endless) conversations about everything. She is so observant, smart and funny...she's just like me...okay okay, so she's smarter, funnier and way more observant. Geesh, always trying to fish for one aren't I? She is just at an age where she glows, that sweet, innocent, childhood glow. I bask in it, I drink it in and I wonder when the hell I ended up with wrinkles. Whoa, sorry, way off topic.

Ethan is a climbing fool these days, climbs into, onto and around E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. The boy has no fear...well that's not entirely true. He is, as we have discovered, afraid of the "horsie ride" at King Soopers. (Sorry Son, I have to tell). He will go down a death-defying six foot drop of a slide without batting an eyelid, but will not trot gently on a stationery horse. Perhaps the horse ride is not manly enough for his tastes and thus screams bloody-murder in protest of it. That's it isn't it? That's our story and we are sticking with it.

July 4th-the essence of Summer. Fireworks and BBQ's. Screaming, over-tired kids.

And BINGO was his name-O!