What makes a happy mom

Took me 35 years and almost 7 years of mom hood to figure it out..

How to be a good mom? Be a happy mom.

This means the dishes may not always get done, floors may not always be swept, but learning when to say when may be enough.

Spending time at the park with the kids out ranks the dishes.

Taking a shower and ten minutes for myself makes me happy.

Diving into two part-time writing positions even as I have to literally HIDE in the closet to conduct interviews, however chaotic, makes me happy.

Not dusting or saving some chores for later to trade snuggling with my kids, makes me happy.

Yes the kids' room is a mess right now, but tomorrow, we can make it a game. Tonight, we snuggle, watch cartoons, laugh a little more.

We smile more. I smile more.

My kids are happy and that makes for a happy mom too.

Things that make me happy

Things that make me happy..

The sound of a horse's hooves on the cobblestone.

The sound of the ocean waves hitting the shore.

The feeling of a worn pier beneath my back, legs dangling over the edge.

The feeling of a warm fluffy bed on a cold rainy night.

The smell of Christmas trees and cookies baking in the oven.

The sudden bobbing of my sons' heads when they show up by my bedside each morning asking for breakfast with a sweet silly smile.

Friends that stick around for hours to talk about nothing.

And, friends that have become family over time because they've been there in the good times and bad and all of those times in between.

Things that make me happy....

Trippin' on change.

Eights months ago I moved here.

I had no idea what it would be like. I ONLY knew it was FAR.

FAR from a grocery store. FAR from pizza. FAR from, well, Chinese delivery wasn't an option either.

There were DEER everywhere. And, people here hated them, or they overfed them.

Every house was on a hill or under a hill.

The driveways were like little roller coasters. Still, there are some roads I won't even attempt to go up or down.

The breeze that flows through the Palm trees sounds like the ocean. It's so cold here some days. It's hot other days and suddenly weirdly rainy.

The stars are like darts of light through a dark blanket over the sky. They are so confident out here they make you feel small.

If the neighbor leaves, you hear it for MILES.

I've overcome the grocery store drive. I've found my tricks.

I've navigated the clicks. I know where I fit in. I think. Or, I thought I did.

I've learned with change, big change like this- -leaving a city you've known for YEARS surrounded by friends that ARE your family, to move to another small town very different from the BIG city you lived in..it takes a lot of time to adjust.

People aren't always what they seem at first. Or even at the second glance.

Heck, I'm not even the same.  Some days I'm confident. Other days, I'm pretending.  Oddly sometimes, I attract more friends when I stop caring- -stop trying. But, it hurts NOT to care. But, then sometimes, it's easier NOT to try too.

I'm changing too.  I feel like everything is still changing out here. There are so many ropes to learn. It's like a pecking order out here. If I get overconfident, someone comes along and trips me.

It's like I'm the new girl and everyone's bound and determined to underestimate me. Or, overestimate me.

Then, I have to dust off my hands, wipe my knees and get back up again and paint a smile on my face.

But, with all of the change. All of the trips. All of the falls. I'm still the same from the CORE.

I think.

I still love navy blue. I still LOVE writing. I still love my friends. And, when I find some here, I'll love them too.  I know. I know. It takes time.

And though the winds are always changing. I know that it is fair. It is fine- -even if sometimes they feel too harsh. They SOUND so harsh against the window panes. It's like the weather is as temperamental as the neighborhood welcome season.

It comes and goes like a fashion fad. One day "you're in and the next you are out.."

I know it's NOT that bad. But, if I was meeting the new girl, I would have sat her down already, introduced her to some people and taken her out to dinner to JUST get to know her already.

I feel like I'm waiting in the wings sometimes for the show to start. Or, with an over-excited grin when I just get ONE wave from someone I'm starting to know, it makes my day and it's embarrassing if I show that it does.

No one needs new friends as much as someone that doesn't have them. Yet.

I know. Change. It takes time.  That's what I keep hearing. I GOT it.

Meanwhile, I make myself busy. Taking on two more part-time jobs. Work MORE from home. Tread water for a bit.

And eventually, the stars- -all of those things I LOVED about my Houston home- - will feel closer to  this new "home".

 The deers won't feel so exotic and the friends around here will feel like a new family again for me too. And, I'll be like a star among them.

medals and charms

This was written in Sept. of 2011.

This week I really struggled with focusing on the negative.  Funeral. Family. Sadness... Want for lost time. Missing out.

I could see my grandfather. He was in there. Laying there. I was looking at my grandfather's grave. It bothered me. It was too final. Too much. Too hard to believe that there wasn't anything I could do to change the moment.

It was there. His name in print. Acknowledged by at least someone else. It was even in the papers.  You could touch the coffin. He lay there permanently even if I told myself that wasn't him.

You could touch the veteran's flag. You could hear the ceremonial gun salute. You could hear the trumpet's song.  The end of a song. The end of my time with my fine fellow.

Negative. Not fair. Not enough time. Like a child, I found myself head down, twisting my right foot in circles in the sand.  Pouting at the age of 33. If I pretend it's not there, it's not. Right?

Then, I look up and see my aunt crying. My uncle head down. He wore those cheesy black boots. Didn't recognize the back of his head with his head bowed. And, I see people around me charmed by his life. They loved him too. What an honor to see that. To see how he was loved. 

Then, I watched the brave soldiers hand my grandfather's widow a flag. Each of three kind, metaled men looked her directly in the eyes on bended knee and thanked her for service.

And, I hid behind a tower and cried. And, I remembered as the soldiers stood there, that it was my turn to be brave too.

Dumb. But, facing the negative isn't what I want to do. I want everything back. I want the time back. I want long talks with my grandpa back. I want taking it for granted back. There I am negative again....

But, instead, I'll remember the moments, like charms. Circles of time hang together on a chain of one lifetime. Captured moments like pictures or trophies on my memory pages. Stockpiled for tomorrow.  These are MY badges of honor.

I'll remember the laughter. I'll remember the long letters. I'll remember my heritage and the bravery that I GET to be related to. This part of him that lives in me can continue.

People said to me he was old. It was time. And, I get mad because time and memories are timeless. There are no boundaries. For a child, or for an adult, sometimes the people we look up to seem, well, timeless. Invincible.

To me, he was always grandpa. In his 60s, not 82. He was the one with the stories. The long-talker. He was one in the same. He doesn't get older. He's just there. He's mine.

I'll remember him.  Our memories are my charms. My ribbons to wear on MY chest.

As I got in the car, I saw the thousands of veteran tombstones. Alike but, yet as bold as though they were original. I'll pause and remember those thousands that said, "I'll fight" and even those that didn't want to, like me. I don't like change.

My grandpa.  His memory.  My fit.  Time for me to suit up. Let go and reframe the moment instead. I can say, "Hey, lookie there! I was. I AM related to him. Yes, that great warrior of a man..." See, he's still timeless.

Charming acts of boldness, character and Cherokee-tattooed colored strength.  Memories that linger even after the dirt settles in the sand and I've kicked and screamed and begged for my own way -- -even if he was 82...