Blogiversary

I have been blogging for one whole year. When I started I didn't expect to get much out of the endeavor. I started on a whim and just let it roll....and roll it has. It has picked up steam with every turn and has become its own entity. A friend and a confidante. I have found so much more out about myself and other people through expressing myself through writing. I find it easier to be honest when I have a chance to gather my thoughts and ideas and put it into a post. I really like writing about things that mean something to me. Most of the time I forget that other people are even reading what I write. I enjoy provoking thought and even debate. If what I have to say means something to someone it is worth me writing it. Someday I will print my blog off and give it to my kids as a "baby book" of sorts since I am really bad about actually filling those kinds of things out. I hope that what I have to say means something to them and they realize that I am not just their mom but also a person with memories, feelings and ideas of my own.

The Lost Art of Love Letters

Let me preface this by saying Chris has been gone a week and a half and I am a little sappy. Plus I am hoping he might read this and get the hint ;)

Sometimes I wish I was back in the time before the internet and phones where available to connect people. I wish I was back when men wrote love letters to their wives. The written word can evoke such emotion by speaking the truth in a way that is hard to verbalize. Even 15 years ago when Chris went on a lengthy trip to Russia I remember waiting for the letters and cherishing every word. They were the key to remembering why we were so connected to each other. When I felt alone or sad all I needed to do was read the words and remember that we aspire to each other. Even now when I come across the tattered letters I sit and read them and tears easily come to my eyes. It makes me remember the sadness I felt when he was away and the exhilaration I felt when he returned. Those letters encase the rawest form of our blossoming romance.

When you write a love letter it is like putting words to your feelings for eternity. There is something so simple and beautiful about sharing emotions in a handwritten form that it makes it intimate and real. To receive something that is so pure and beautiful, when it is really meant, is a treasure to embrace forever.

Experience

I looked down at my eleven year old's hands today and I saw my own hands from years ago. Smooth nimble fingers with shapely long nails. Hands from before. Before any innocence is gone. Before love or graduation or babies. Before heartbreak or losing a loved one. Her hands reminded me of myself from years ago. I wish there was a way to prepare her for all the things that are to come. To let her know that the tears won't last and that the dramas will subside. That she should be true to herself and her knowledge of right and wrong. Experience will teach her all these things better then I can explain them to her young unsuspecting mind. Experience is something that can not be taught but has to be gained over a period of time. When I was eleven I remember looking at my grandmas hands and thinking about how they were weathered and gnarled. I didn't understand then how they got that way but now I know.

Trust

Have you ever noticed how all things in life are cyclical?? Things run smoothly for a while but then a period of rough times comes along. The smoother the time the more invincible you feel and the harder it is to remind yourself that the tougher times are coming. When things seem tough and you get sucked under it is almost impossible to see that it is only a matter of time until things even out again. A lot of that really depends on investing yourself in the concept of trust. To have a confident expectation of something in the future. What we know to be true through past experience is likely to happen again. We know the sun will rise every morning and set at night because we have seen it before. We are confident it will happen tomorrow because it happened today. Things are rough now but I trust that soon they will revert back to the smooth sailing. My cross to bare may not be as big as some I have heard lately but it is still my burden to struggle with. For now I am relying on the certainty of the future and all I trust it has in store for me.

What Changes Stays the Same

Change is something I am fearful of. I like things the same, known and repetitive. When things change instead of feeling the adrenaline rush of newness I feel the overwhelming need to breath into a paper bag. I totally believe that situations change and needs change but I have a hard time convincing myself that people actually change. Mostly I think people try to change and pretend to change, maybe even to themselves, but stay the same person that they always have been. I want to give the benefit of the doubt to those who show up a seemingly better person then they once were. When they seem no longer petty or cut throat. Back to me not being a big fan of change. I feel guilty because I can't embrace the idea that someone isn't who I know them to be. Someone who has proven to me over and over that they are a wolf in sheep's clothing and every time I give in a little and begin to trust the sharp teeth come out. See, I can't change either no matter how much I try. I am the same person I have always been.

Veering Off Course

Sometimes I feel like I didn't sign up for this. When I got engaged and started planning a wedding and a life everything looked so simple and easy. I was full of optimism and ambition. I saw myself living in a big (clean) house with my 2.5 kids and my husband who got home at 5:30 every night. My husband always brought me flowers and we never fought in those visions. My kids always got straight A's and said please and thank you. Everything moved smoothly and happily and there were never any bumps or lumps. I certainly didn't sign up for the sassy mouths and the messy rooms. Nope. Didn't ask for Chris to travel endlessly or for all the hiccups our house has given us over the years. Of course now I realize that is just life. Even though most of my optimism has turned to sarcasm and my ambition has changed course I do realize I have gotten some really great stuff I didn't sign up for too. I could never have known the depth of love and connection I would feel for my children. How their tears would make my heart hurt and their laughter would make it smile. I certainly didn't realize how much my husbands support would mean to me through all the highs and lows. I also couldn't see that happiness without some anger and sadness just isn't as vibrant or real. So here I sit in my messy house so far off my intended course I could never in a million years find my way back. Sometimes going off course is the only true way to discover new things and find what you may have never even known you were looking for.

Grinched

My daughter's newest favorite book is How the Grinch Stole Christmas. She wants me to read it over and over to her night after night. I realized this weekend, as the calendar hit the first of November, that I feel a great kinship with the Grinch. I have a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach about the holidays. As much as I hope I can push past the stress of the in-law get togethers and all the planning to get to the magic I never seem to be able too. As a kid I remember all the fun stuff. The glittery magic of Santa and the many traditions of the season. The thing that I have realized is that that is what we as parents want the kids to remember from their childhood. We don't want them to shoulder the family drama or the monetary problems. We need them to see only the warm fires and the pretty packages. We want them to bake cookies without thinking of the calories. We want them to say what they are thankful for around the holiday table without reservations or maybes. We need them to be innocent and gullible because that is what the best memories are made of. They have plenty of time to realize that there is always something more going on behind the curtain. For now I want to try and push aside the heaviness of trying to pull the wool over their eyes and recapture the magic. I want my heart to grow a few sizes and I want to remember what it is like to enjoy the season.