I wonder what it's like in Heaven. We've all see the pictures of what Heaven is supposed to be like. Beautiful angels laying around on wonderful clouds. Aren't we taught that we have no physical being after life. How does that work? The kids believe Heaven is full of all the things you love most. That you will be with your family and friends that have gone before you. Rey believes that you can have all the ice cream you want in Heaven!
My question is, what does that look like? What do we look like? What can you do or have or feel or see? Do you get to pop-in every once in awhile and see your family? Do you ever feel sad that you aren't there with them or is feeling sadness not allowed in Heaven because it's only good things?
I absolutely believe that Heaven is for real. I don't doubt any of that. I absolutely believe that my loved ones are there. I just wonder where there is and what they are like there. Do you age in Heaven, or are my babies that have gone before me, forever babies? My sister forever 36? Will I see my sister in Heaven, my babies, my grandparents? Will I meet my husband's brother and grandparents that mean so much to him that passed before my time with him?
And today, I wonder if they have birthday parties in Heaven. I wonder if they get to have a big celebration and wonder if they are able to sense our urgent happy birthday wishes to them.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
So Much To Write
I have been trying to blog...I really have. I've had a rough start to find the words that I am searching to say. So here's a couple "teasers" of what's to come in the next couple days (or weeks, or months...depending on how things go!)
Our large family of 8 plus Grandma Cindy, with a part of Grandma Nessa, Grandpa Steve, and GG, went on vacation this summer. It was a nerve-racking experience to get ready for but it went SO much better than I could have ever imagined. I will share a few highlights from that, though many of you watched a lot of that vacation happen through facebook updates and pictures.
We have officially "survived" the one year mark of Anitra's death. It was hard, harder than some thought it would be, not as hard as some thought. The important part is that we made it, scrapes and all.
We've started going to church. Not everyone is in love with having to get up every Sunday morning but it's been a great experience for our family and I look forward to sharing that with you all.
School started...wow, that could be an entire blog itself but I'll keep it to a post in a blog.
So anyway, hopefully I will be able to blog again and maybe try to get to it more frequently. I like being able to share our family's stories, trials, and successes.
Thank you all for so many of your thoughts, prayers, assistance. We could not be here in this journey without you.
Sam
Our large family of 8 plus Grandma Cindy, with a part of Grandma Nessa, Grandpa Steve, and GG, went on vacation this summer. It was a nerve-racking experience to get ready for but it went SO much better than I could have ever imagined. I will share a few highlights from that, though many of you watched a lot of that vacation happen through facebook updates and pictures.
We have officially "survived" the one year mark of Anitra's death. It was hard, harder than some thought it would be, not as hard as some thought. The important part is that we made it, scrapes and all.
We've started going to church. Not everyone is in love with having to get up every Sunday morning but it's been a great experience for our family and I look forward to sharing that with you all.
School started...wow, that could be an entire blog itself but I'll keep it to a post in a blog.
So anyway, hopefully I will be able to blog again and maybe try to get to it more frequently. I like being able to share our family's stories, trials, and successes.
Thank you all for so many of your thoughts, prayers, assistance. We could not be here in this journey without you.
Sam
Friday, June 21, 2013
Paula Deen and the "N" Word
I will preface this with the fact that sometimes the direction of my blog will not be completely about our family. It's going to change as I change and may seem completely random at times. Here's one of those times...(and I'm fully aware that this post is coming from a white woman. The same white woman who was concerned to be less of a human, even after black people were able to be legally defined as people and not property.)
I dislike the "N" word. I am horrified when someone calls one of my children the "N" word. I believe it is a word that should not be used by anyone, in any context. I don't like it when black people use it and I don't like it when white people use it. I don't care if it ends in an "er" or ends with an "a". That's how I feel about the "N" word.
That being said, I don't believe that using that word EVER in your lifetime, makes you a racist. I believe that there was a time in our history that using that word did not mean the same thing that it means now. I don't believe that it is a word that was ever used as a compliment, but it was used as a label, for an entire race of people, and it wasn't all that long ago that the word was used by a lot of people who would not, then nor now, consider them a racist. Times change. People change. Words carry different meaning at different times in our life.
Paula Deen was asked, in a deposition where she swore to tell the truth, if she had ever used the "N" word. Paula Deen was born in 1947 in Georgia. She was asked, if in her 66 years of life, had she EVER used the "N" word. Paula Deen said, "yes" in response to this question. Paula Deen, who is known to many as "The Southern Cooking Lady" said yes she has used the "N" word. She knew what was at stake. She knew what she was going to be asked at the deposition. Do you really think she wasn't prepared for that question? That question, in a deposition for a lawsuit stemming from an African-American women suing for harassment, was not a surprise for Paula. Should she have lied in a deposition where she was sworn under oath to tell the truth? Should she have feigned that she "couldn't recall" whether she had ever used that word?
Would anyone have believed her if she had said no? Would anybody have respected her more if she had said "I don't recall?" Does anybody think that a white woman, born and raised in the South, during a time of segregation, during a time of huge racial battle going on in America, had not ever said the "N" word during her life? I think it's unrealistic to think that, growing up when she did and where she did, she would have never used that word. That horrible, awful word. That one word that if you have EVER in your life used, instantly makes you a racist.
I don't know if Paula is a racist. She says she's not. I'm inclined to believe her. She told the truth when she knew what people would think when they heard the truth and she said it anyway. I don't know how often she used the word. I don't know if she still uses the word. She says she doesn't. She says that in this time, a time where the word is known to be offensive, she does not use the word. I don't know if she's telling the truth. I have no reason to think that she's not. I don't know of any current events where she has used the word.
I hope that, we as people, can understand that times change. I hope that, we as people, can understand that people change with these times. I hope that we can forgive and judge other's less quickly for things that they have said and done. I hope that we can stop defining people by the words of their past.
If we cannot, I think that we had all better start being a lot more careful about the words that are coming out of our mouths because at some point, someone might ask us if we've EVER, in our lives, used a word that can now define you as ignorant, racist, sexist, insensitive. Acknowledging that we've said something in our past, does not define who we are in this moment.
I dislike the "N" word. I am horrified when someone calls one of my children the "N" word. I believe it is a word that should not be used by anyone, in any context. I don't like it when black people use it and I don't like it when white people use it. I don't care if it ends in an "er" or ends with an "a". That's how I feel about the "N" word.
That being said, I don't believe that using that word EVER in your lifetime, makes you a racist. I believe that there was a time in our history that using that word did not mean the same thing that it means now. I don't believe that it is a word that was ever used as a compliment, but it was used as a label, for an entire race of people, and it wasn't all that long ago that the word was used by a lot of people who would not, then nor now, consider them a racist. Times change. People change. Words carry different meaning at different times in our life.
Paula Deen was asked, in a deposition where she swore to tell the truth, if she had ever used the "N" word. Paula Deen was born in 1947 in Georgia. She was asked, if in her 66 years of life, had she EVER used the "N" word. Paula Deen said, "yes" in response to this question. Paula Deen, who is known to many as "The Southern Cooking Lady" said yes she has used the "N" word. She knew what was at stake. She knew what she was going to be asked at the deposition. Do you really think she wasn't prepared for that question? That question, in a deposition for a lawsuit stemming from an African-American women suing for harassment, was not a surprise for Paula. Should she have lied in a deposition where she was sworn under oath to tell the truth? Should she have feigned that she "couldn't recall" whether she had ever used that word?
Would anyone have believed her if she had said no? Would anybody have respected her more if she had said "I don't recall?" Does anybody think that a white woman, born and raised in the South, during a time of segregation, during a time of huge racial battle going on in America, had not ever said the "N" word during her life? I think it's unrealistic to think that, growing up when she did and where she did, she would have never used that word. That horrible, awful word. That one word that if you have EVER in your life used, instantly makes you a racist.
I don't know if Paula is a racist. She says she's not. I'm inclined to believe her. She told the truth when she knew what people would think when they heard the truth and she said it anyway. I don't know how often she used the word. I don't know if she still uses the word. She says she doesn't. She says that in this time, a time where the word is known to be offensive, she does not use the word. I don't know if she's telling the truth. I have no reason to think that she's not. I don't know of any current events where she has used the word.
I hope that, we as people, can understand that times change. I hope that, we as people, can understand that people change with these times. I hope that we can forgive and judge other's less quickly for things that they have said and done. I hope that we can stop defining people by the words of their past.
If we cannot, I think that we had all better start being a lot more careful about the words that are coming out of our mouths because at some point, someone might ask us if we've EVER, in our lives, used a word that can now define you as ignorant, racist, sexist, insensitive. Acknowledging that we've said something in our past, does not define who we are in this moment.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Good Grief
Yesterday was H(helping).U(us).G(grieve).S(successfully). Camp at the zoo for Rey, Genna, Ariez, Trey, Grandma Nessa, and I. We heard about this camp through Mourning Hope. They have been such a God-send for our family. They have provided us the tools to help us navigate this grief in a very healthy, positive way.
Grief is awful. There's no denying it. There's no sugar-coating it. There's also no way of going around it. It is imperative to go THROUGH the pain and not around it. Grief is a mystery. It's hard enough to mine the grief battlefield for ourselves, let alone recognize and allow our children to grieve. We want to stuff it all away and put a band-aid on it because grief is too hard. Mourning Hope has allowed us to support all of our children in their individual grief battlefields. We are all grieving in our own unique way and we certainly need the help to continue to help them do it successfully.
Yesterday's camp was hard work but it was good work. It was important work. It was work that we will continue to do and hopefully continue to help our children do. We know now that grieving is not on a timetable. We know that it is something that we will carry with us every day that was live. It doesn't have to be hard everyday but it will certainly be with us. We will continue to go to "grief camps" and workshops that allow us to express the things we hold onto deep inside us.
I am so proud of my kiddos and my mother for coming and facing feelings that sit at the surface, no matter how hard we try to pretend they don't. I'm proud of them for having the courage to face the hard grief work and the strength to share what they are feeling. I'm proud of the progress they have made and will continue to nurture the progress that we still need to move through.
Grief is hard. The work is good. The work is good for our hearts, it's good for our souls, it's good for minds.
Grief is awful. There's no denying it. There's no sugar-coating it. There's also no way of going around it. It is imperative to go THROUGH the pain and not around it. Grief is a mystery. It's hard enough to mine the grief battlefield for ourselves, let alone recognize and allow our children to grieve. We want to stuff it all away and put a band-aid on it because grief is too hard. Mourning Hope has allowed us to support all of our children in their individual grief battlefields. We are all grieving in our own unique way and we certainly need the help to continue to help them do it successfully.
Yesterday's camp was hard work but it was good work. It was important work. It was work that we will continue to do and hopefully continue to help our children do. We know now that grieving is not on a timetable. We know that it is something that we will carry with us every day that was live. It doesn't have to be hard everyday but it will certainly be with us. We will continue to go to "grief camps" and workshops that allow us to express the things we hold onto deep inside us.
I am so proud of my kiddos and my mother for coming and facing feelings that sit at the surface, no matter how hard we try to pretend they don't. I'm proud of them for having the courage to face the hard grief work and the strength to share what they are feeling. I'm proud of the progress they have made and will continue to nurture the progress that we still need to move through.
Grief is hard. The work is good. The work is good for our hearts, it's good for our souls, it's good for minds.
Monday, May 20, 2013
End of School
Well, in 3 more days, we will have survived this school year. Obviously, it's been a difficult one. I'm incredibly proud of my children for having the strength and courage to get through it. We've had our rough days. We've had more "sick" days then we probably should have. We've had our fights about how to behave in school. We've survived it.
My kids had a tough year. They've all lost more this year then they ever should have to. They've all come out stronger in the end of it. Two of them started new schools, made new friends, mourned the loss of their old schools and some of their friends. They've all had a house change, one of them two of them. Two of them had brief hospital stays. One of them a surgery. All of them counseling. Some of them the counseling was a new thing.
They've all made new friends this year. We've moved into a great new neighborhood where new friendships are blossoming. The kids have settled into a new routine for the most part. They've all grown and become stronger. In the face of difficult times, they've held on tight and fought through and have made it to summer.
We still have rough days. We've experienced a lot of "firsts" that have been hard this year. We will continue to have those. We will continue to grow and learn from them. We will continue to honor their mom, aunt, my sister. We will be stronger in the end because that's the only choice.
All-in-all, under horrible circumstances, we've made it. THEY'VE made it. Each and everyone of them. I could not be more proud of them. I could not be more proud to call them my children.
My kids had a tough year. They've all lost more this year then they ever should have to. They've all come out stronger in the end of it. Two of them started new schools, made new friends, mourned the loss of their old schools and some of their friends. They've all had a house change, one of them two of them. Two of them had brief hospital stays. One of them a surgery. All of them counseling. Some of them the counseling was a new thing.
They've all made new friends this year. We've moved into a great new neighborhood where new friendships are blossoming. The kids have settled into a new routine for the most part. They've all grown and become stronger. In the face of difficult times, they've held on tight and fought through and have made it to summer.
We still have rough days. We've experienced a lot of "firsts" that have been hard this year. We will continue to have those. We will continue to grow and learn from them. We will continue to honor their mom, aunt, my sister. We will be stronger in the end because that's the only choice.
All-in-all, under horrible circumstances, we've made it. THEY'VE made it. Each and everyone of them. I could not be more proud of them. I could not be more proud to call them my children.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
My Sister
The story goes that before I was born, my sister was not excited about having me come into the world. That all changed the day my mother didn't bring me home from the hospital. Anitra was angry. She wanted her baby. From the day I came home, we were together. I was her baby, her bestie, her sissy, and she mine.
I have memories of being little and doing fun things with her. She was my hero. She wasn't afraid of anything then. She was my best friend. I remember bouncing up and down the stairs to The Oakridge Boy's Elvira. I remember her teaching me how to "shave" and the massive thumb cut. I remember hiding in the upstairs window that overlooks the street because we had done something that would make April or mom mad. I remember her telling me it was okay to pee in the bathtub as long as you poured Hydrogen Peroxide in it. I remember her rarely taking time to think things through, just jumping in head first and hoping the water was deep enough.
I remember being really excited about seeing my daddy but being really sad at the same time that my sister wasn't coming with us. For 4 years, as far as my memory serves, this girl was my world.
We didn't grow up together much after that. I'm not going into that all because that's not what this story is about. We saw each other, we got in more trouble together, we planned and plotted and there was a large period of time that I just missed her.
When I was 19 years old and living own my own, she called me. She was pregnant and living on the streets in Omaha and without a thought, I went and picked her up and moved her in with me. She was my sissy. I found her a doctor, I found her a job. She was my sissy. She had Rythm and I was with her. Oh how we laughed. There were disagreements, of course there were. She was NUTS and I was...I think her words were pushy and bossy. Did I mention she was nuts?? :)
I had to move to MS. I couldn't take her with me. That broke my heart. I think it broke hers too. She got in trouble again. She moved around. I wouldn't take her collect call from jail on my birthday. She got me back for that and for the rest of my birthdays with her she would call and say she was calling collect. I would yell "I don't take collect calls on my birthday!" and then I would hang up on her. She'd call back and we'd both just laugh!
We both lived in Kearney again. One of the stories I tell the kids is about one time that she did something and I said something stupid about it. She got really angry and blocked me from being able to call her. I was devastated. I cried and cried. I missed my sister. Two weeks went by and she showed up at my place. I was shocked and glad at the same time. She came in all pissed off because I hadn't called her IN FOREVER. I said, "you have blocked my number! What the hell is wrong with you?" She started laughing because she had totally forgotten that she had blocked me. I had to tell her why she had blocked me and when I did she said, "that's stupid." That was my sister.
While we lived in Minden, I didn't see Anitra for awhile. I think it was a little over a year. It made me so sad but she had cut us out and I didn't follow or try to stop her from doing it. She was going through some hard stuff and didn't want us to go through it with her. I know it was heart-breaking for me and I'm sure it was hard for her not to have me. At least that's what I will always tell myself. :)
We accidentally ran into each other again on April Fool's Day of all times. It was like nothing had happened. There was not a gap of time for either of us. We went right back to whatever it was we were. We laughed, fought, thought each other was ridiculous. Mostly we laughed. Phone calls multiple times a day. It was like the "you're my new best friend, call me every 15 minutes" kind of thing. We moved to Lincoln shortly there after and shortly after that, Anitra moved to Lincoln. We all lived together as long as we could.
There are so many funny stories I could write about. I might write some more of those. There are a lot of sad stories to tell also. I might write some of those sometime too.
People talk about "soul mates". I think mine was Anitra. We filled in each other's blanks. She began where I ended and vice versa. She was the fun one, while I handled all the serious stuff. She was the "crazy" one,while I made sure everyone had their stuff with them. I told her where people needed to be and she got them there.
Not everyone is lucky enough to have someone like that in their life. Steve used to call us both his wives. He was the "technical" handyman and she was the one who could "fix" anything with duct tape and super glue. Heck, she helped pick out and pay for his wedding ring! He didn't know that one until just recently. She was the one I would say "tell Steve I want..." She would call me and say "what are we doing for Steve" for Christmas, birthday, mostly Father's Day. She was his fishing buddy. She took the kids to the pool and I made sure they had sunscreen.
I haven't "forgotten" all the bad times. I just choose not to focus on them. I don't pretend like everything was always wonderful. We were a family and she was mentally-ill for a very long time. I haven't shaded those parts away. There were some really tough times. There were really frustrating times. There were "I want to strangle" you times. There was a lot of crap. Hers and mine.
She was mine though. I felt like I was hers. She was my sister, my soul mate, my best friend, my constant companion, that one person that you could tell absolutely anything to and know that you weren't being judged.
Words cannot express how much I miss her. Words cannot express the sadness and pain I have without her. I keep waiting for someone to tell me this nightmare is over. I keep waiting for her to call, well text, me and to hear her start laughing because she really pulled one over on me this time. I would have given anything to have her call me collect this year on my birthday. I would give anything to see her smile and laugh at me for something.
I don't think I'm "stuck", I think I'm just still healing. I don't think I'll ever feel whole again. I have been told that I will feel better, and some days I do, but I don't think I'll ever feel the same as I did. I don't think it will ever not hurt. I miss her and I want her back. I know that wanting her back is selfish, but I still want her back. I go through the days saying "I'm ok and I'm fine" so often that I think someday I'll believe it. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I don't think I ever would have been.
I have memories of being little and doing fun things with her. She was my hero. She wasn't afraid of anything then. She was my best friend. I remember bouncing up and down the stairs to The Oakridge Boy's Elvira. I remember her teaching me how to "shave" and the massive thumb cut. I remember hiding in the upstairs window that overlooks the street because we had done something that would make April or mom mad. I remember her telling me it was okay to pee in the bathtub as long as you poured Hydrogen Peroxide in it. I remember her rarely taking time to think things through, just jumping in head first and hoping the water was deep enough.
I remember being really excited about seeing my daddy but being really sad at the same time that my sister wasn't coming with us. For 4 years, as far as my memory serves, this girl was my world.
We didn't grow up together much after that. I'm not going into that all because that's not what this story is about. We saw each other, we got in more trouble together, we planned and plotted and there was a large period of time that I just missed her.
When I was 19 years old and living own my own, she called me. She was pregnant and living on the streets in Omaha and without a thought, I went and picked her up and moved her in with me. She was my sissy. I found her a doctor, I found her a job. She was my sissy. She had Rythm and I was with her. Oh how we laughed. There were disagreements, of course there were. She was NUTS and I was...I think her words were pushy and bossy. Did I mention she was nuts?? :)
I had to move to MS. I couldn't take her with me. That broke my heart. I think it broke hers too. She got in trouble again. She moved around. I wouldn't take her collect call from jail on my birthday. She got me back for that and for the rest of my birthdays with her she would call and say she was calling collect. I would yell "I don't take collect calls on my birthday!" and then I would hang up on her. She'd call back and we'd both just laugh!
We both lived in Kearney again. One of the stories I tell the kids is about one time that she did something and I said something stupid about it. She got really angry and blocked me from being able to call her. I was devastated. I cried and cried. I missed my sister. Two weeks went by and she showed up at my place. I was shocked and glad at the same time. She came in all pissed off because I hadn't called her IN FOREVER. I said, "you have blocked my number! What the hell is wrong with you?" She started laughing because she had totally forgotten that she had blocked me. I had to tell her why she had blocked me and when I did she said, "that's stupid." That was my sister.
While we lived in Minden, I didn't see Anitra for awhile. I think it was a little over a year. It made me so sad but she had cut us out and I didn't follow or try to stop her from doing it. She was going through some hard stuff and didn't want us to go through it with her. I know it was heart-breaking for me and I'm sure it was hard for her not to have me. At least that's what I will always tell myself. :)
We accidentally ran into each other again on April Fool's Day of all times. It was like nothing had happened. There was not a gap of time for either of us. We went right back to whatever it was we were. We laughed, fought, thought each other was ridiculous. Mostly we laughed. Phone calls multiple times a day. It was like the "you're my new best friend, call me every 15 minutes" kind of thing. We moved to Lincoln shortly there after and shortly after that, Anitra moved to Lincoln. We all lived together as long as we could.
There are so many funny stories I could write about. I might write some more of those. There are a lot of sad stories to tell also. I might write some of those sometime too.
People talk about "soul mates". I think mine was Anitra. We filled in each other's blanks. She began where I ended and vice versa. She was the fun one, while I handled all the serious stuff. She was the "crazy" one,while I made sure everyone had their stuff with them. I told her where people needed to be and she got them there.
Not everyone is lucky enough to have someone like that in their life. Steve used to call us both his wives. He was the "technical" handyman and she was the one who could "fix" anything with duct tape and super glue. Heck, she helped pick out and pay for his wedding ring! He didn't know that one until just recently. She was the one I would say "tell Steve I want..." She would call me and say "what are we doing for Steve" for Christmas, birthday, mostly Father's Day. She was his fishing buddy. She took the kids to the pool and I made sure they had sunscreen.
I haven't "forgotten" all the bad times. I just choose not to focus on them. I don't pretend like everything was always wonderful. We were a family and she was mentally-ill for a very long time. I haven't shaded those parts away. There were some really tough times. There were really frustrating times. There were "I want to strangle" you times. There was a lot of crap. Hers and mine.
She was mine though. I felt like I was hers. She was my sister, my soul mate, my best friend, my constant companion, that one person that you could tell absolutely anything to and know that you weren't being judged.
Words cannot express how much I miss her. Words cannot express the sadness and pain I have without her. I keep waiting for someone to tell me this nightmare is over. I keep waiting for her to call, well text, me and to hear her start laughing because she really pulled one over on me this time. I would have given anything to have her call me collect this year on my birthday. I would give anything to see her smile and laugh at me for something.
I don't think I'm "stuck", I think I'm just still healing. I don't think I'll ever feel whole again. I have been told that I will feel better, and some days I do, but I don't think I'll ever feel the same as I did. I don't think it will ever not hurt. I miss her and I want her back. I know that wanting her back is selfish, but I still want her back. I go through the days saying "I'm ok and I'm fine" so often that I think someday I'll believe it. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I don't think I ever would have been.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
A Different Kind of Day
Anitra did not call me on Friday with her annual "What are we gonna do for mom for Mother's Day this year?"
Yes, this year was different. I've been told by many people that the "firsts" are harder generally. This was no exception. I didn't look for any coffee themed, funny little gifts to give her. I didn't have any help getting ideas for my mom and I didn't have anybody to put little bugs in their ears to tell Steve what to do for the day.
I did want to make the day special for our mother because I knew this would be a hard day for her. I hope I succeeded in that. I knew that the kids needed to honor their mom in a special way this year. I wanted to honor her in a special way this year. If it were not for Anitra, I would not be a mother of six. I got three bonus kids from her and that is special and something that I will treasure all of my life.
I asked the girls at work. I knew we would do a balloon release but I wanted there to be more to that. I wanted there to be something that the kids could put their heart into. They suggested a "note in a bottle" theme. It was perfect. I let each of the kids write a little note to her. We rolled them up and went to HyVee. The ladies there looked at me with my strange request and helped out. Each child got to pick a color and we put the notes in the balloon and blew them up. We then went to the park and took some pictures and released them. Then, because I knew I needed to keep them occupied with me today and I had no desire to listen to them fight all afternoon, we went to the movie. Reyanne had wanted just her and I to go but that wouldn't have been right today. We went to see the Crood's. It was good. There were some sad parts when we didn't think the dad was going to make it, but even those were perfect. There were tears. The central theme was that we not be afraid of tomorrow and we reach for the sun and anything is possible. The movie reminded us to live! Mostly, there was laughter and there was family. We were there together.
Reyanne, who at seven, has experienced and expressed the loss of her mother in much different ways than the others. She seemed to almost look as though she felt guilty giving me the gifts that her class had made for their "moms." I could see a look in her face and just gave her lots of loves and hugs today because I'm aware that she was feeling these things but couldn't identify them.
Ariez was pretty wired today. I have noticed that in emotionally charged situations, he seems to get pretty excitable. There's an anxiousness about him that people sometimes misjudge as hyper. Not that he isn't hyper! Trust me, this child could be in texts books about hyperactivity. It's a different type of hyper. He seems uncomfortable in his own skin. He doesn't really know how to express that in any other way.
Rythm was incredibly strong. I know it was a hard day for her. She never let on that she was struggling. She has grown emotionally a lot in the last few months and weeks. She seems to be more aware that her mood and attitude set the tone for others around her. She has chosen to use that more for good now, instead of a way to wind up everyone else. She is an incredibly strong and bright 16 year old girl. She is growing so much.
I am so proud of them. I can't imagine going through what they have gone through. I can't imagine the feelings of their loss. I am so proud of the way they handled themselves. I will not allow them to use this loss as an excuse to check out of life. I will continue to push them to honor their mother and not allow her death to be an excuse for bad behavior. Honoring her will get them farther.
It was also the first Mother's Day that I am the mother of six. I used to tell people that going from one to two children was way harder than going from two to three because you are already used to juggling. I think, if things had been different and I would have had four, then five, then six, the transition would have been smoother. Three to six is hard. Three to six is a huge adjustment!
Today reminded me of how proud I am of each of my children. I tell people that I have three bio kids and three bonus kids. I realized today, more than any day so far, that I really do love them all as though I gave birth to them all. There is not a distinction in my love for them. This is who I am and who God made me to be. It's not always easy. There are days I hate it. I had those days before I had six kids. There is not a day that goes by that I wish I didn't have all of them. Don't get me wrong, if we could get a do-over and Anitra could be here, I'd take that in a heartbeat. Since I can't, I am so glad that I have six kids. I am incredibly blessed to be the mother of so many.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)