For Suzanne

Nine years ago today, on a Friday the 13th ,I welcomed my second child,Olivia, into the world. She was born with beautiful big eyes , white fuzz on her head and a delicious dimple in her cheek. We loved her from the moment we saw her and felt that Friday the 13th was the luckiest day ever. We basked in the highest elation possible and rode the wave of pride and love. That day was so special to me in many ways. She was born the day before my mom's birthday and just a few days before mine. I felt a certain kinship with her right away and still do. When I looked at her I somehow saw myself.

As much as this day holds picture perfect memories for me that isn't the case for my friend, Suzanne. October 13 is a day that she would rather forget, a day that can never be erased. It is a day all her waves came crashing down. On October 13, 2005 her precious son, Austin, lost his battle with Spinal Muscle Atrophy(SMA). He was four. For her the day certainly holds a deeper sorrow then I have ever known. I can only imagine how hard that day was and how much courage it must have taken to continue to go on afterward. I did not know her then but I feel our paths crossed recently for some greater good in both of our lives. I feel a connection for Suzanne a lot like I did for Olivia when she was born. We seem to really understand each other.

When I get out of bed today I will spend my time thinking about the great joy of that day nine years ago. What I was doing as each hour hits and how my anticipation and excitement built leading up to Olivia's arrival. I will remember the happy barrage of visitors and the many well wishes. I will be able to hug Olivia and tell her I love her today. When Suzanne wakes up today her thoughts will be in stark contrast to mine. She will remember each minute of that day too but with reluctance and heaviness. Please take a moment to check out this site to learn about Spinal Muscular Atrophy and the research that is being done to eradicate it. Also check this site out to join in with me and my running group which includes Suzanne on a walk/run on November 15 to benefit SMA research.

Is That a Light at the End of the Tunnel??

Tunnel vision is a terrible thing to have. It is impossible to have perspective about anything when you can't include all the details to the side. People who have tunnel vision are often unable to take into consideration the hurt that they may cause by spouting their narrow views. Many times I think that jealousy and desperation fuel the inability to see outside that dark claustrophobic tunnel. I understand we all get caught up in being righteous about one thing or another but sometimes in the quest to be morally superior compassion and truth are forgotten. The last few days have been a lesson in being judged for me. I don't think I deserve it and I don't like it even a little bit. Mostly though I think it is unnecessary for people in glass houses to toss boulders. When you want something more then anything in the world and you can't have it but you see someone else out there with three of them well I guess you disregard humor, every day experience and real life to try and make yourself feel less like a lost soul. I have decided not to let it impact my ability to see the humor in my life and my ability as a mother. After all laughter together with love make the world go round.

Prouder then any Peacock

I have always been rather wishy-washy when it comes to finishing what I start. Books get half read and walls get half painted. I tend to get distracted and unable to focus on goals especially ones that take lots of time and energy. Sometimes it is a self confidence issue that steers me away from completing what I start. I would rather not complete the task at all then do it the wrong way. The last ten months I have really proven something to myself. I somehow got it in my head that I wanted to run a 1/2 marathon. At first I wasn't sure how I would accomplish such a hefty feat but surprisingly after I really set my mind to it everything fell into place. I connected with a fabulous running group right in my neighborhood that has been a great support system for me. Together we put together a plan based on as much information about running as we could gather. We all posted the plan on our refrigerators and we have all stuck to it with amazing tenacity. We have dealt with varies and frequent injuries. We have run in the heat, the cold and the rain. We have woken up early 4 times a week and committed ourselves to our goal. The race is only a week away and I have to say I feel ready to run and more importantly I feel excessively proud of myself for sticking with it through good and bad. After all is said and done the true benefits go way past the actual running. I have found a camaraderie among women that I probably never would have known past a casual glance. I have increased my confidence and I have realized that I can do whatever I put out there for myself. I am looking forward to completing the 1/2 marathon on October 18th and I plan to run the whole 13.1 miles even though I feel like I have already gone the distance.

Like Leather....

I keep trying to remember that it is important in life to have thick skin. Pretty much anything that is crucial and meaningful involves shoveling through a bunch of garbage, naysayers and criticism. Sometimes I feel like I have a soft soul and that makes it so much easier to get wounded. Much of this insecurity arises from a deep-seated belief that my worth comes from what I do, because what I do defines who I am. My thin skin lets the tiny glances and small words permeate easily and travel straight to my heart. Of course you can't just disregard all negative feedback and live in a fantasy land but at the same time you can't let the negativity change the course of your life. The key is finding a balance somewhere in the middle where you use the negative comments to make improvements but are able to totally disregard the downright abusive crap. My eleven year old daughter is just emerging into the stage where is she is going to face the cruel years of peer ridicule. I want to arm her with the tools to develop some scar tissue so she isn't open to the hurt and pain caused by teasing and rejection. The problem with that is even though I know how much it hurts to deal with those situations because I have been through them there is no way to truly give her immunity. The only way for her to build up the callouses is for her to be immersed in the situation and hopefully fall back on the strong foundation that I have laid for her. I know thicker skin protects you from feeling the hurt with such depth and resonation. With such thick skin and a heavy heart you can't feel the bad things but it is equally as hard to feel all the good things. I want her to have a flexible heart that still weeps and hurts because without those raw emotions I find it hard to have compassion or love.

NOT Me Monday!

Playing along with the blog carnival over at My Charming Kids... join in and laugh at all your faux pas like me and relish in the free therapy!

There is no way I have removed scissors AND a hole punch from my kindergartner's room at least 6 times in the last week...she could never be climbing up a cabinet to find out where I keep hiding them and sneaking them in at night.

Amelia could never have worn her costume for 12 hours straight including to the bus stop and to Costco. I certainly did not have to glue the mask back together even though we only bought it yesterday at Walmart.

I am not afraid to use the new toilet my dad and husband so nicely installed this weekend and I don't have a recurring nightmare that it will fall through the floor with me on it..nope not me!

There is no way my sister's mother in law faked a heart attack to get out of watching her kids for the weekend and there is certainly no way they ended up at my house while she got to go out for a romantic evening

No way my 3rd grader tested positive for the flu AND strep and missed 3 days of school..no way one of the days was picture day.

My 11 year old could never have disappeared into her room and emerged ten minutes later with glitter eyeshadow thinking I wouldn't notice.

I am not super duper excited to go shopping and to lunch for my birthday this week while all three girls are at school nope not me!

Mending a Broken Heart

The other day my nephew and my five year old were playing upstairs. Suddenly my nephew came running down in sheer panic. He told me that they had been playing Dr and that they were trying to fix his broken heart. He lifted his shirt and showed me his chest and it was covered with a barrage of band aids. He thought the band aids were super glued on and would never come off. I quickly tore them off and his crying slowed but the whole incident really made me think. How easy would it be if a broken heart really could be mended by an outer force like a band aid? Or a kind word? Or maybe a hug? The thing I have learned about broken hearts is that the only person who can truly mend them is the one who owns the hurt. Sometimes it takes soul searching and time to get through the pain. Sometimes it takes wallowing through self pity and grief to get there. Even when the heart is mended though it is still really tender and not quite as strong as it was before. An important thing to remember is that a broken heart is still a beating heart. No matter how much it hurts and how much despair you feel you have to keep living. You have to move past the hurt to a future no matter how painful it is to get there.

As Funny As Running in the Rain

Life seems so ironic lately. It's like when you get ahead of the game then fall on your face. When you try to sneak a nap and forget to wake up. The house is all clean then the craft drawer explodes. Laundry is caught up and sheets are fresh and someone gets the flu. Finally take the time to fix a home cooked meal and no one is hungry to eat. Manage to avoid the pediatrician for 6 months and then have to call four times in one week. All three kids are in school during the day but every evening is packed to the gills with sports and scouting. The temperature drops and frost shows up but the coats are still packed away somewhere in the basement. Its like when you take up running to get skinny but the only pants you can find to run in are maternity pants from years ago. It is like life is trying to play a practical joke these days. When the good shows up the bad is only a hiccup away. I will take the chaos though as long as the next joyous moment is just around the corner.