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Hey you

Hey you. Yes, you. I see you there. I know you’re scared, and I don’t want to tell you not to be afraid…

And yet…

Here I am. Telling you it’s OK to be scared, but you still have to go on. Maybe it’s something you’ve wanted for a long time, something positive even, but it’s such a huge change that you’re scared to death. 

It’s OK. Let’s breath through it. We will make it to the other side, and you might even wonder after all is said and done why you were so scared. You might even feel a bit silly, but that’s OK too. I’ve been there.  You’ve been there too, so remember to just breath. And maybe giggle a little. 

It releases tension.

Truly. 

And even if it’s not ok, I’ll sit with you on the darkest night and light a candle for you. Call me and I’ll just breath on the other end letting you know I’m there. Maybe it won’t be ok again today, or tomorrow….

But things will be ok again. And after they’re ok again, you’ll be able to search for the good days. The awesome days. 

You’re not quite ready to believe in them, but they’re out there. So I will hold the dream for the both of us.

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Santa Mom

I felt my mom close to me this weekend, as if she were with me while I shopped. She was there as I found the special soup spoons she used when we were sick, and the babmoo grippers thingees that she used to pull toast out when it got stuck in the toaster. She was there with me in a tractor supply store (don’t ask), as I started bawling.

I started bawling, the first time, because of a day planner. The year my mom died, she kept a day planner, and used the spaces for days of the week as a sort of journal. The comings and goings of us kids, all grown, and her little trips with dad… all in the little journal. Some weeks were full to the brim. Some only had a few filled out.

Then she died.

I couldn’t look at that blank planner, so I started filling it in for her. Comings and goings, a little glimpse into life right after she died. It was 20 or so years ago, but I still remember that journal. I think I still have it somewhere. But I know it. I know the cover, i know the feel of it, and I know what it looked like on the inside.

And in the tractor supply store, right with all the calendars… was a copy of that same damn planner, only for 2017. Same. Damn. One.

I bought it. I will put it into my stocking, and I will write in it. Buying it means that I now have 2 but one will be for my writing and one will be for my adventures in mommyhood.with my boy.

And then Walmart happened.

In talking with a friend, I told her I don’t know why I’m so emotional today. I don’t know why this is happening, but…

But I’m tired of being the one to do for everyone. I do stockings for everyone in the house, because Mom did. Because to me, that stocking shows time and attention and love. Dad used to do mine, and help with his current wife’s stocking… but since the stroke (and maybe a little before), it hasn’t happened.

I know every single present that is currently under the tree.

Even mine.

And it sucks. Because my son would love to do it for me. And wanted to. But I didn’t think to think outside the little house. But next year, next year… I have 2 different people who have said that they will take him out shopping for me, and help him do my stocking too.

Friends and family are a blessing. But sometimes, you have to stop being so strong and powering through… at least enough to ask for help.

I fell Mom close to me right now. Not just because of the stuff, but because of people willing to come together and help out.

Love you guys.

If you know someone who is a single parent, if the child is old enough, offer to take them shopping for their parent. Both the child and the single parent will appreciate it. Being strong and keeping it together, especially under the pressure of making the perfect holiday is tough.

 

 

Love Never Dies

I know this to be true:

Love remains, even when all that is left is a memory.

Love remains, through the years you should have had together.

Love remains, even as grief changes the very molecules of your soul.

Love remains, as you live your life, alone or with others.

Always, always, love remains.

Love never dies.

Tiny House Dream

A lot of things are going on for the princeling and I, and one of the things that happened was this: We turned too quickly to get into the rehab facility my dad is at, and ended up in the driveway for senior apartments over looking a pond/lake sort of thing. “Oh, I’d love to live here!” The princeling was all for it. Then we started talking and realized we both would love the same thing: An apartment or condo on the beach.

I am not a house kind of person. I rent a room at my dad’s house, and I love living here…. but. Not so much right now. For one thing, he’s not here. We are definitely missing our Poppa. Hopefully he’ll be home soon. But also because of the actions of another person, who… I don’t know. To me, it seems as if they either didn’t want poppa to come home, or they wanted the princeling and I gone. Personally, I’m starting to think they just throw stuff out there, hoping it will stick to someone and take the spotlight off of their actions.

Four people have a key to the house. I’m ok with that. I’m not okay with people coming in and complaining that the house is torn up, it’s horrible, it’s a mess. Yes, I keep my room a little messy. Yes, Ray’s room can get destroyed. He’s 9. And the doors shut. No one else needs to go into our rooms. However, in all the years I’ve been out on my own… Never has the public spaces in my home been too messy for anyone to visit. Anyone. When my brother came to check it out the first time, there were maybe 4 dishes in the sink. That’s it.

Four freaking dishes.

I enjoy apartment living. I don’t want to have to fix plumbing or air conditioning. There is no way on God’s green earth that you want me taking care of a yard, lawn or otherwise. Thankfully, I didn’t kill off the grass completely, it’s coming back… but in my defense, the sprinkler system stopped working as if someone had unplugged it. Then the freezer went kaput. Thankfully, a neighbor came over and figured it out. Whew! A little reset button for one, and the power breaker for the other.

The fuse box in an apartment is normally either in a closet, or in the kitchen.

Apparently, here, it’s on the side of the house.

There’s the cooking and cleaning, which is fine, I get it. Nothing more than what I’d have on my own in an apartment. However, if I was in my own place, my very home would not be in jeopardy because of someone else’s lies about my housekeeping. Right now, I have a pit in my stomach because there are 4 cups in the sink and a few spoons,  a fork and a knife. That’s not right– the house is not a mess. It looks like someone lives here… but we do! We live here!

But I’m ok. The great thing about smart phones is that you can record stuff with a time and date stamp. So for the past week I’ve been making a video of the house then texting it to my dad and my brother’s wife. Because yah, it got to that point.

And it’s sickening to think that someone would be that low. Especially when anyone around us can tell that one of the reason’s my dad is fighting so hard to come home is because of that little boy. Both of their faces light up when they see each other, and my son is definitely the star of the show.

But the star of the show told Poppa on Saturday that he and I were working on a Tiny Home Dream. I explained to poppa that it would be 5 to 10 years away… but yes.

The goal is my son and I, in a tiny home, where we will not have to live wondering what a certain person has said about us this day.

PS- I’m happy to report that the power bill was less than normal! Part of the reason is that I turn off the air when I leave. Even on the days when it hit 1-5. the house was only 85. Turn it on when I got home… BOOM. At least I won that one!

Later in the week, I plan to catch you all up on what we’re up to. Yes, I said we! I’m part of a writing group now, and I’m actually getting a bit prolific. I know I’ve been gone from here for a while, but I’m writing, it’s good… and you know what? It’s enjoyable! It’s fun!