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(Recycled) Mother’s Day Wishes and Something that could make you tinkle just a little.

May7

Happy Mother's DayI’m just going to say a few words in honor of Mother’s Day and then you can watch my all time favorite Mothers’s Day video. I suppose if  you just want to skip to the end and watch it without reading anything, I have to say, you could (which would totally hurt my feelings). I guess you can watch it first and THEN come read my rambling, deal?

slight disclaimer

Most of the words are this page are recycled from my last few years of Mother’s Day posts. I’m injured and on meds, so forgive my lazy ways. There is a chance the pieces I chose might not make sense together . . . I know you’ll get what I’m copying pasting at ya though. 

Happy Mother’s Day to EVERYONE! That’s right. EVERY, single blessed one of you! No matter who you are, a mother has touched your life.

You may be one, we all know you’ve had one, someone gave birth to you! If she wasn’t the one there to teach you how to live that life, there must have been someone there to step in fill that role.

A mother is often considered the one who gave another life, but there’s so much more to it than that. A mother is the one who wiped your tears, read you stories, covered you when you were cold. A mother could be a kind stranger, an aunt, doting grandmother, a family member . . . Anyone with a heart brave enough and strong enough to step into that role is worthy of being a called mother.

Hence ~ Mother’s Day ~ The day of the year we take special time out to say thank you to the person who brought us into this world. The woman who nurtured us from a tiny little egg into a living, breathing, screaming, pooping, helpless, demanding creature which required nourishment and protection and teaching from the moment it breathed its first breath, the woman who will continue to do so until the moment she breathes her last.

I know not all mothers were created equally. Some deserve saint status, some maybe didn’t quite reach those lofty heights of motherhood, and some, well . . . some were really sucky. Some of the ones we honor aren’t the ones that gave us life, but the ones who taught us how to live it. Some where there from the beginning, some came into our lives later. Some share our blood, others share a bond forged with love instead of strands of DNA. Some are still with us, a phone call or a drive away, others live on in our hearts and our memories.

Some of us celebrate this day, some of us are celebrated on this day, (and some of us are celebrating as well as being celebrated.) Soon-to-be-moms, new moms, veteran moms, moms with toddlers, house-apes, preteens, teens and * ahem * adult children. Moms who hold their children, moms who never had the chance, moms who no longer can – All mothers, regardless of how long they’ve stood watch over their children, regardless of where their children are – If there was life within them for even a moment, they are mothers and they deserve to be revered and honored and cherished.

My mother was and still is an amazing mother and I love and honor and cherish and respect and admire and adore her to that proverbial moon and back again more times than there are stars in the sky above. 

I kind of like Mother’s Day, I like the love behind the intention of Mother’s day at least – Mother’s May hasn’t always gone as I’d imagined it would when I had children though. Nope, not quite like I’d imagined. As a matter of fact, years ago I kind of nixed Mother’s day from our family agenda. I mean, not literally, I just decided that I’d rather have my kids wish me a Happy Mother’s Day and then let me go off and have a Happy Mother’s Day. At the bookstore. Without them. This tradition began after my kids were no longer young children, mind you. It wasn’t a decision made lightly either, easily, but not lightly.

See, the kiddos and the hubs always seemed to try so hard to make it a special day for me, they usually ended up stressed out and one or more of us would end the day in a jumble of frazzled nerves and sometimes tears. With four kids, two with special needs, we needed to keep things low-key, so by the time the youngest was old enough to spend a few hours home with the older ones, I found a way for them to give me the special day they longed for me to have. I left the house.

I do miss those hand-made cards with my children’s tiny hand-prints traced on them and the sweet little crayon colored pictures with a smiling sunshine and a rainbow above the heads of our 11 fingered stick figure family standing next to flowers that came to our waistlines, and the wobbly little letters that spelled out ‘I love you mommy’. I wouldn’t mind a few more of those . . .

Happy Mother’s Day to all you amazing women out there who have been blessed with the title of ‘MOM”.

Now watch this and share it with other moms – all the moms!

http://https://youtu.be/bhcA4Ry65FU.

.

 

He’s used the power of words against me – Fiend!

Feb4

940853_10206929243363128_8250679111366109730_nMy son. My precious, precious, manipulatively genius son. He’s a bit of a wordsmith, he knows words hold some sort of magical power over me and he is not hesitant in the slightest to wield that power against me for his own gain.

He knows how it thrills me each time he tells me he’s written something, he uses that to his advantage every now and again. As a matter of fact, he used the magical and mighty force of the written word against me just yesterday.

A small bit of background, for reference – My Matthew, the second of my four children, will be 24 years old next month. He is, technically, an adult. A superbly fantastic and monumentally (at times) challenging adult. He is autistic, beautifully so. And bright, obviously so.

One of his loves is weaponry, specifically swords, which he has spent a pretty penny on over the years. They were meant to be decorative items, but they were often taken from the walls by he and his brothers (and sister), and used in actual, unsanctioned, swordplay. I put my foot down and decreed there would be no more swords (or airsoft rifles, or BB or pellet guns) purchased. He conceded and there has been relative peace in my kingdom and his money was channelled elsewhere. But then yesterday, he set out to create a loophole in which to trap me.

The following is the document I was presented with . . .

Long ago, in a different time when there were no electronics, where your livelihood was not determined by the size of your bank account, but by your wit and wisdom, one skill above all others was most prevalent, and that was the skill to hunt, for this was the age of survival. Sadly, unlike most animals, we are not blessed with bodies that are adept for the hunt, but what we lack in physical prowess we make up for in mental fortitude and that’s where our most valuable method for survival comes in, tools.

There are many tools that have helped us survive in the past, but above all others one tool helped us conquer the age of survival and that tool was the bow. The bow was the perfect weapon, unlike the sword were you had to train vigorously and still might be considered second-rate, the bow was easy to learn. It was devastating on the battlefield but kept you safe from most all weapons aside from other bows. Do not misunderstand, it was in no means flawless, after all the tool is only as good as the user.

I will be taking the next few minutes to address 10 important points I believe show that even in this day and age the bow is still a valid tool, and I hope we can leave here with the consensus that the bow is a valid exception to our agreed upon rule and that there will be no quarrel with its purchase this month.  

Point number 1. Archery is ideal for an upper body workout. It improves upper body strength as well as hand-eye coordination and balance.

Point number 2. Unlike with our swords, we will not be fighting each other, thus the likelihood of us being injured is greatly diminished.  

Point number 3. Not only do I want this, but so does Michael (and I’d assume Victor as well). Michael is his younger brother, Victor is his best friend.

Point number 4. You’ve made it known that you want us to spend more time outside, well with this we now have a rather strong incentive to do that.

Point number 5. It’s a potentially inexpensive hobby.  

Point number 6. We could make a guest appearance on CW’s ARROW.  

Point number 7. It is an Olympic sport so if we get good enough we might make it there.

Point number 8. I believe it is something that you can join us in and that we can do as a family.

Point number 9. Like martial arts, it can not only help strengthen the body, but the mind as well.

Point number 10. It’s simply fun.

Now with these ten points in mind, I hope that I’ve convinced you that this purchase is in fact valid and it is necessary, for the benefits far outweigh the costs.

Into the Future – Autism

Dec15

I pulled up an old piece written for The Stir on CafeMom that ran for Autism Awareness Month in 2010. I just wanted to share it again for those new to this journey. My children and I have traveled this winding path for a long time now, navigating the many twists and turns, still finding unexpected beauty amidst the many detours along the way.

Autism

My children have come so far and grown so much. 

They’ve taught me more than I’d ever hoped to teach them. The struggles they face and the obstacles they must overcome are many and changing as time passes. Two steps forward and one step back doesn’t really apply when it comes to autism.

Some days it is one step forward, stub your toe, trip on something, stand up, turn around, sit down, get back up and start all over again. Sometimes though, we simply take a leap and land on both feet.

So much has changed in the field of Autism research, so much has been learned, yet the stigma and the struggle to adapt in an oftentimes unaccepting world remain. This has truly been our greatest struggle.

In 2010, when this piece was written, my boys were just stepping out into the uncharted territory of adulthood. I’ve often thought of society in general as playground bullies or the bystanders that turn a blind eye to them. Thankfully, there are angels that walk the earth who look at my boys with their hearts and see who they truly are.

Now, at 26 and 23, they are still trying to find their footing, stuck somewhere between ability and disability, childhood and adulthood, just trying to find a place to belong. So much attention is paid to children with Autism, as it should be, but what we need to remember is they grow up. Autism does not go away as childhood passes by, they simply become adults with Autism.

There is a great need for more services for these Autistic adults, services that are easy to access. It is slowly happening, a watch pot never boils, right? We still keep an eye it on though, waiting to see the bubbles rise to the surface. I am watching . . . and waiting.

In the meantime, I continue to teach them, continue to support and nurture and love them. They are content with who they are, they accept themselves and they accept everyone around them. They just want to be accepted by as well.

A few notes regarding the article – We no longer use the terms high, mid or low functioning. These terms can be misleading. When someone hears high functioning, they may expect more out of the person that they can often give, when they hear low functioning, they often do not expect enough. It’s Autism. It is all, just Autism.

I am proud of my boys and the men they have become and look forward to the men they will one day be.

They are my heroes.

*Matthew’s diagnosis is written as PDD NOS, it was later changed to Asperger’s with a co-morbid dx of Bipolar.

*My husband I did not wed when we were teenagers, we’d met 25 years prior to this article, the I do’s came later.

*While I no longer admin for the Autism group, the friendships I forged during my time there have remained and grown.

 

Into the Future . . . Our Autism Story

Interview with Crystal Cook by Amy Boshnack

 

Wilson


Wilson, age 20, with his buddies Arthur and Merlin. Crystal married her high school sweetheart almost 25 years ago and they had four children, three boys and one girl, who are now between the ages of 12 and 20. Two of her boys have Autistic Spectrum Disorder.

Crystal spends what free time she has on CafeMom as an administrator for the Autism/Asperger’s/ PDD Awareness Group. (You must be a member of CafeMom to view the discussions in this group.) This allows her to “reach out to many and share the message of autism awareness and acceptance.”

She has learned a lot over the years and shares some of that knowledge, and her own story, with us now.

Matthew

 

How old were your boys when you first suspected they might have autism? What were those initial signs?  

To be honest, I knew from the very beginning. When my oldest was born and I looked into his eyes, I just knew there was something special about him. Not the kind of special all moms see when they look upon the new life they just brought into the world, I felt that of course, but there was something beneath the perfection of him, something in his eyes somehow told me he would be special in a very different way than I had expected.

As he grew, he wasn’t meeting the typical milestones most babies did. Smiling, cooing, rolling over … he was just content to lay there and watch the little bears on his mobile until hunger prompted him to call out for me. I went to his pediatrician with many questions and left without answers. When he was six months old and hadn’t shown any interest in sitting up or playing much, I was told I must be holding him too much. When he wasn’t trying to mimic sounds like the other babies his age, I was told I didn’t talk to him enough. When he didn’t crawl and then didn’t walk, I was told I carried him too much. None of those things were true, but I could get no-one to listen to me.

The general consensus of his doctors and most other people in my life was I was young and lacked the skills needed to teach a baby. I was more than frustrated. When he was sixteen months old I contacted an early intervention program to assess him. He had just mastered standing and walking around objects. He had yet to even try and mimic any words and he wanted nothing to to with anyone but me.

By two and a half he was enrolled in a special education preschool. No one could say what was wrong but all agreed there was something. By kindergarten he was beginning to speak with the help of a speech therapist. It wasn’t until he was nine that we received a diagnosis. A new doctor on his team had just returned from an autism conference and he concluded that he had a form of autism. This was a hard word for so many to swallow, too many still thought of autism as the withdrawn child rocking alone in a corner. There was a whole spectrum to the disorder that most doctors and teachers were just beginning to accept.

When his little brother came along I saw that same look in his eyes. The spectrum is vast though and he was quite different from his brother. He was fussy and constantly on the move. He took his first steps the day he was nine months old. Speech did not come to him until around the age of five. Like his brother he had many sensory and learning deficits which were apparent from very early on.

In those first moments when you found out your children’s diagnosis, how did you react? And how did that reaction change over time?   

I cried. Not tears of sadness though. Tears of thanks and relief. After all the years of searching and trying to find doctors who would listen to me and see what I was seeing, I finally had an actual diagnosis. It’s safe to say I felt almost euphoric for days, perhaps even weeks afterward.

Time has done nothing to change the happiness and release I felt once those words were spoken. I suppose you could say I felt empowered and vindicated.

What is their exact diagnosis? And what does that mean in laymen terms?

My oldest is diagnosed officially with autism. Mid to high functioning. Every child with autism can present a different array of symptoms. He began his life with obvious developmental and cognitive delays. Sensory integration, speech and language issues, social adaptability and self-help skills are just some of the areas autism has effected his life.

His brother carries a diagnosis of PDD-NOS, pervasive developmental disability – not otherwise specified. He shares many of the same issues as his brother, but to a lesser degree.

Not all children on the spectrum have learning disabilities, mine do. They both carry a co-morbid diagnosis of ADD. My oldest has an anxiety disorder and the younger of the two is also treated for bipolar disorder. Both live with the effects of Tourettes Syndrome as well.

What are 3 things you wish someone would have told you about autism that you had to learn on your own?

Wow, this one is tough because twenty years ago no one even mentioned autism. It wasn’t something that was thought of when it came to children with the difficulties mine presented. I find it almost amusing, at times, when I read about the different therapies used now, things I instinctively did on my own.

  • I suppose it would have been nice to just know there were other people out there who understood, that I wasn’t the only one in the world dealing with the issues I faced every day.
  • It would have been nice to know it wasn’t my fault.
  • It would have been the greatest gift to know that there was so much hope for the future — that my boys would one day find their place in the world.

What or who has been your greatest resource for information and support during this time?

Again, a difficult question. Until my son was nine years old, I knew nothing about autism. The Internet wasn’t there for us as a resource when he was younger. My support system was my family. My mother has held me up during times I simply could not stand on my own.

What’s been the most challenging part of dealing with a child with autism?

Honestly, the most challenging thing I have faced in the twenty years since I began this journey has been the lack of knowledge and acceptance of autistic spectrum disorders. One of the biggest challenges our children face is the prejudice and ignorance that prevails in our society. It shouldn’t be so difficult for people to accept the differences of those with autism. Parents shouldn’t be blamed and those with autism should not be made to feel shamed or shunned because they may walk or talk differently than those around them.

Tell us something that makes your children special or unique. 

Innocence. My boys have maintained an innocence you just don’t see in many young people their age. It’s the kind of innocence that sees things as most of us stop seeing them as we grow older. It’s the innocence of play and pure love.

Knowledge. Amazing knowledge about amazing things. They tell me things that I never knew and I am in awe.

Finally…. The debate around the cause(s) of autism is very heated right now. What do you think causes autism? 

Genetics. Perhaps there are environmental triggers for those who have the makeup for it. My children did not regress or ‘go away’ they simply didn’t develop the way other children did. When they were babies they were nowhere near as many vaccines given. It terrifies me to know there are parents who choose not to vaccinate. The reason we live in a time without the diseases that once took so many lives is because we have taken the steps to vaccinate against them.

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There Comes a Time – Better late than never – Mamalode

Dec3


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Sometimes, my brain fails me. It betrays me. I was so happy when I received the email letting me know this piece, There Comes a Time in the Life of Every Mother, would be up on Mamalode in September. Somehow, that bit of news was lost in the fog that often fills my mind. While sifting through old emails this afternoon I came across that email . . . I was happy all over again to find it, but saddened that I’d misplaced the thought of it for so long, especially since the subject is so precious to me.

Click the link . . . It’ll make my heart smile!

There Comes a Time in the Life of Every Mother

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1911- H. J. Haverman

 

 

Would you advertise your children?

Aug3

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I was in the neighborhood, your neighborhood, right behind you at the stop light near the grocery store. I notice you have those cute little stick figure family stickers on the back window, names and everything. I love that. Adorable. Mom and Dad, Allison, Justin, Kirby the dog, and Oreo the cat. I’ve been thinking about getting some of those.

Light’s green, looks like you’re heading to the store, me too. I see you’re the proud parent of a Super Citizen at the elementary school a block back. I know right where that is.

Wow, what a coincidence, there’s a parking spot open right next to you.

Go ahead, get the kiddos out, I can wait. Beautiful family. Your kids are simply precious. Little Allison and Justin who go to the school right down the road. I guess I don’t really need anything at the store after all, maybe I’ll see you around though.

Oh, hi again. What a coincidence seeing you here, at school, picking up little Allison and Justin. They’ve been waiting out front here for five minutes already. Well, I’ve got things to do, maybe I’ll see you around sometime. I’ll see the kids at least. I know their names and where they go to school, I bet they’d love someone to keep them company while they wait for you to pick them up. We could talk about Kirby and Oreo, I wonder if you’ve talked to them about strangers.

I’m not really a stranger though, now am I? I mean, if anything happened to Kirby or Oreo or your white minivan got sideswiped near the store and you needed the kids picked up, I could help. I would just say, “Kirby was real sick and had to go to the vet and mom wanted me to pick you guys up and take you there.” Or I could tell them there was an accident and you needed me to bring them to you. They would be upset and want to get there quickly, don’t you think?

I suppose if I wait and watch a little longer I could probably learn your name, dad’s too. Maybe I’ll just ask the kids after school while I’m waiting to pick up my daughter. I don’t have a daughter, but they don’t know that. Kids are great, they make friends so quickly. I would be a great friend.

I’ll wait, I just saw David leave for home, he’s a walker. I only know his name because it’s written right there on the outside of his backpack. Convenient, right? Maybe tomorrow I’ll introduce myself to Allison and Justin . . .

Parents – Do yourselves, and your children a favor, please don’t advertise them. Don’t tell strangers their names by sticking them on your back window, find another way to show how proud you are of them without telling everyone where they go to school. Don’t write their names on their backpacks, if you must, write it on the inside.

Make sure they wait inside the school gates for you to pick them up. Yeah, it takes time to park and walk up there to get them, but at least you’re the one getting them, right? Have a password, someone may know their names, your names, the names of your pets, but there is no way they can know your secret family password. Make sure your kids know not to go anywhere with anyone unless they say the magic word.

If your kids have cell phones, make sure their contacts, and yours, are entered as proper names. Not mom, dad, grandma, grandpa, etc.. Let’s just imagine for a moment someone who shouldn’t have one of those phones has it. Your daughter’s phone, for instance. They scroll through the contacts, they see MOM, they send off a text letting you know she’ll be staying late at school, you ask when you should pick her up, they say, in about an hour.

Now, daughter is waiting after school, but you’re not the one who shows up.

This might sound crazy, but that’s the thing, crazy things happen. Our world has changed, the bad guys have changed, and we have to think about crazy things sometimes to make sure they can never happen.

Let’s think about those cell phones again, what if hubby’s phone gets swiped? You don’t know that. Maybe whoever has it has his wallet too. You get a text from HUBBY saying he forgot the ATM password. Why would you question him? If you have him listed in your contacts as HUBBY or you’re in his as THE WIFE, this scenario kind of makes scary, easy sense.

I don’t think we need to tiptoe around in fear, but I do think we should be cautious. We need to be proactive and take precautions so we don’t have to be afraid . . .

Crystal R. Cook

Cyber Bullying – Parental Responsibility – Close the window.

Jul6

o-app-secret-e-o-cyber-bullying-2             

        cy·ber·bul·ly·ing
              ˌsībərˈbo͝olēiNG/
                                noun
– the use of electronic communication to bully a person, typically by sending messages of an intimidating or threatening nature.
They Intimidate, oppress,
torment and tease,
they harass and antagonize,
they frighten with ease.
They tyrannize and dominate,
they manipulate, and mock
hiding like cowards,
they skulk and they stalk.
They dishearten their victims,
they hide behind screens,
they use words to provoke
without being seen.
They torture, exploit, and abuse
they taunt and badger and berate,
they demoralize and exploit,
and they use.
They bother and ridicule,
They disparage and criticize,
in cyber shadows they lay in wait
for someone else to victimize.

https://youtu.be/670if6Etx0o

Words are powerful, more powerful than many give them credit for. They can inspire and heal and fill the world with beauty, but they can be a double-edged sword, easily manipulated to cause pain and inflict misery when wielded by someone with an ugly heart.

Words serve the wicked as weapons as they cowardly hide behind a cyber shield of anonymity. The prey upon the needy, the weak, the hurt, the young, the innocent. They click away at keyboards, wounding their victims one keystroke at a time.

Cyberbullying-Infographic-infographicsmania

Parents need to educate themselves, they need to communicate with their children, they need to teach their children how to handle a cyber bully situation. 

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Parents . . . you NEED to know what your child is doing online. What sites they frequent, who they are communicating with. It’s OKAY to insist on having passwords.

It’s OKAY to limit access and place restrictions on their computers and phones and game consoles. It’s OKAY to check your child’s history and internet usage. It’s OKAY to check their text messages.

As a matter of fact, it’s VITAL.

Until your child is 18 years old, it’s your RESPONSIBILITY to protect and teach them.

cyberbullying

– Don’t let your child become a victim –

A personal note on PRIVACY 

While my children were growing up, privacy meant closing the door when you bathed or got dressed. Privacy did not extend to their online activities. At all. If I didn’t have access to their devices, they didn’t get to have the devices. Period. I reserved the right to block, monitor, and investigate . . . until they were 18 years old.

It is NOT an invasion for a parent to check in on what their children are doing. 

We live in a world where the bad guys – the pedophiles, the perverts, the rapists, the bullies – can sneak into our children’s rooms anytime they like. They can ride the school bus with them, sit in their classrooms, and tag along to sleepovers. There is an always open window for them to climb right in without ever being seen.

I took great care to keep my children safe from these kinds of real-life monsters, the ones on the other side of their computer screens are no less real, and no less dangerous. Talk to your kids, just talk to them. Set boundaries. Let them know they can talk to you, tell you anything. Make sure they understand the dangers that lurk in disguise and what to do when they recognize them.

Give your children power over them by being present, and aware, and vigilant. I said words were powerful, and they are, but they can be silenced. They can be ignored . . . teach your children how to listen to them and learn which ones really matter.

Memories on a flash drive – That last photo – pure gold!

May14

One of my favorite things in life is coming across memories I’d almost forgotten were safely tucked away somewhere inside of me. This one found its way back to me while I was looking for a different memory on an old flash drive, the little file folder on the screen was practically begging to be clicked, and when I obliged the little voice compelling me to take a peek inside, I was instantly filled with the joys of a long ago day and the memories rushed in like a rushing wave, eager to meet the shore.

I no longer recall the occasion, but the day is etched into my heart. The kids explored and played and rode dirt bikes with their dad while I sat with my notebook and favorite pen, recording whatever thoughts I happened to think as I watched the day unfold.

The set of pictures I found in that file made me smile, they made me laugh – the little man captured in photographic forever is now a man, mostly. He’ll be eighteen this month. The last of my babies to step into adulthood. I still see the little boy in these pictures when I look at him sometimes, I have a feeling if he were to stand atop that same hill now, he would no doubt smile that same little smile and take the leap . . .

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He stood there at the top of the hill yelling “Mommy! Watch, I’m gonna jump over that cable.” I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea but he was already running. I figured I’d snap a few photos . . . I got a pretty good shot if him at the start of his run.

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He was cruising down that hill, you could see that he was going faster than he wanted to, once that momentum starts, it only picks up speed. His little legs were moving so fast.

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Gravity got the best of him and he ended his stunt with a face full of dust. He took it like a man though and then he marched right back up there and gave it another shot . . . boys.

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He did it. He jumped the cable just like he said he would ~ Stinker.

I can’t help but giggle just a little every time I look at these pictures :o)

Happy Mother’s Day – For every mom

May10

Happy Mother's Day

I wish you the happiest of Mother’s Days . . . 

I pray your Mother’s Day day holds more blessings than hours, and more happiness than your heart can contain.

My voice is raised in prayer for each and every woman who has added the beauty of life to this world for even a moment.

I pray for every mother who will spend this day watching her children at play, reflecting on the days that have passed, thankful for every moment. For those waiting anxiously by the phone to hear the sweet voice of the one they once cradled, wishing they were again close enough to hold.

I pray for every mother who celebrates this day in silent prayer, remembering what once was or what could have been. For those who use this day to honor the one who brought them into this world, and for those who are now feeling the fluttering of new life within their own womb.

I pray for every mother – The expectant moms, the new moms, the not-so-new moms, the single moms, the married moms, the working moms, the stay-at-home moms, the biological moms, the step-moms, the surrogate moms, the adoptive moms, the moms chasing after little ones all day, the empty-nester moms, the moms who hold their babies in their hearts instead of their arms . . .

Today is just another day, we still rise and do what we always do, but it’s special because it’s called Mother’s Day.

And then they grew up –

May6
Seems like only yesterday sometimes

Seems like only yesterday sometimes

I just signed what will likely be the last permission I will ever need to sign . . . it’s a bittersweet feeling. My babies no longer need my parental permission to attend functions, go on field trips, or participate in activities. Not legally. My youngest will be eighteen near the end of this month. Where did the time go? How did it go by so quickly?

I am so proud, more than proud of the young adults they have grown to be, but sometimes, every now and again, I wish they were my babies, just for a little while . . . I long to hold them close and feel them nestle their little heads against my shoulder and just listen to the peaceful sound of each little breath they take.

I wish I had known just how fleeting time really would be. I wish I had lingered a little longer in more of those moments I didn’t realize were passing us by so quickly. I know I cherished them and those memories carry my heart when I reminisce about when I was a mommy, when my children depended on me for everything; when they needed me more than they do now.

Memories sometimes fall from my eyes when I look back on what seemed like only yesterday and remember their little smiles and the sound of their laughter – and it fills my heart.

I have been so blessed. So, so blessed. They will always be my babies.

Crystal R. Cook

My Daily Grind – A day in the life

Mar10

~ My Daily Grind ~

imageI often find myself wishing I’d written more as my children were growing up. I remember so many times thinking I was too busy to stop and jot something down, always assuring myself I would remember it later. The sad truth is, you don’t always remember it later. Things you think you could never forget are forgotten as the years pass you by. When they say cherish every moment you should listen, they really do go by too quickly.

When I found this particular writing in my shoebox of memories, I was able to recall this day so clearly as I read the faded words; until I pulled the crinkled, yellow legal pad it was written on out of the shoebox though, I had not. In my heart, it was only yesterday, but in reality, this day, and many more like it, happened many, many years ago.

When my kids were little, it seemed like they would be that way forever. Forever turned out to go by far, far too fast.

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It’s 4:30 a.m. when I awake and attempt to open my sleepy eyes. I can’t see anything, darkness surrounds me and though I try, I can’t seem to move. I’m paralyzed from my shoulders up. Intense  panic begins to set in. I feel trapped and suffocated. Just before pure terror consumes me, I take the sleeping baby off of my head and tell myself to stop being so dramatic.

imageI gingerly slide out of bed in slower than slow motion, partly because I am too stiff to move, and partly not to awaken the youngest of my blessed offspring. As I stumble my way into the bathroom I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I wonder if those are dark circles under my eyes or if they are the result of the mega battle Batman had with Godzilla yesterday.

Batman can fly you know. Yep, that caped freak plowed me right between the eyes as I was innocently kneeling to gather laundry. I made one of those mommy rules when my vision returned. From that moment on, super heroes, their sidekicks and their enemies were no longer allowed to fly in the house or they would be sent to prison for an undetermined amount of time. The kids knew what that meant. Those plastic parasites would go into the garage and probably never be seen again.

Feeling quite certain it wouldn’t make much of a difference in my overall appearance anyway, I decided not to worry about it and made my way back to bed. I snuggled in knowing I was free to snooze the morning away. There was no school and that meant I didn’t have to wake up until I was good and ready to. My moment of rest lasted exactly a moment. I’d forgotten kids have some sort of biological clock somewhere within them set to go off at the crack of dawn on weekends and holidays. This time it was set for 5:00 a.m.

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I slid out of bed again and told them to play quietly so mommy could sleep for a little while. I knew before I said it I was deluding myself, but it was worth a shot. It’s 6:30 a.m. when I again regain consciousness. It’s the mind-numbing, blaring of the television stealing my slumber this time. I yell for the children to turn the blasted thing down and they yell back “Why?” I so very much dislike that word. “Because you’re gonna wake up the baby!”

It occurs to me as I watch a soggy little diaper running from the room I should have kept my big mouth shut. The television is soon quieted and I begrudgingly arise to prepare breakfast. I notice the absence of one hungry little mouth, I knew she would sleep late, I heard the pound puppies making a jailbreak around midnight.

After the corn flakes had been poured and the toast had been served, our first fight of the day erupted. Apparently, even though the bowls and cups are a matching set, they can tell the difference and began to duke it out over whose bowl was whose. The whole issue is dropped when the youngest of this trio of trolls throws his cup across the table sending corn flakes and milk all over the place. We almost make it to lunch without too much incident, just the usual stuff. “He’s touching me.”, “He’s breathing again Mommy.”, “He say’s I’m an alien.” So on and so forth.

Around 11:30 a.m. the girl child awakes. This haggard little creature stumbles into the kitchen and asks for breakfast. I explain to her it’s almost time for lunch and she can wait a few more minutes. This of course makes me the meanest and most unfair person in the whole world. In the most pathetic voice she could muster she says, “Even Cinderella got to eat breakfast.” I gently reminded her that Cinderella got up before the sun and made her own dang breakfast.

It always amazes me how acute a child’s sense of hearing becomes when the mention of food is so much as even whispered. Within seconds of the first lunch plate touching the table, all four of them were seated. Five minutes into the meal war breaks out over something and everyone is sent away from the table for a time out.

Everyone except the innocent littlest brother who unbeknownst to me, helps himself to his favorite items from each of their unattended meals and devours the stolen goodies before they return. They come back to find half empty plates and begin accusing each other of grand theft Cheetos. I make a mental note never to feed them all at the same time again and I replenish their food supply.

With full tummies, they retreat to other parts of the house to play and I begin to clean up and do the usual household chores. Next thing I know, gut wrenching screams echo throughout our home. I run to the bedroom as fast as I can to find a sobbing little girl curled up in a ball on the floor.

I just knew the boys had done something dreadful to her. They of course denied any wrong doing so I turned my interrogation to the injured party. “Did they hit you?” She shakes her head no. “Did you get kicked, pushed pinched? What happened? TELL ME!”

Through her tears she says, “He said the Beast doesn’t turn into a prince and marry Belle, he said he just stays a beast and eats her for dinner.” I tried to be sympathetic, I really did, but something came over me and as I rocked her in the comfort and safety of my arms I said, “Well honey, he probably did.” I am still to this day making up for that error in judgment. I can now recite every word of Beauty and the beast with amazing accuracy.

imageI realize as I begin to search for dinner items we need to make a trip to the grocery store. I tell the kids to get out of their jammies and get ready to go. Hey, it’s a holiday, if they stay in their jammies all day that means less laundry for me. I load them into the minivan and head for the store.

Now, I have a conspiracy theory about supermarkets. I think they have little devices in the sensors of those automatic doors that scramble the brain waves of young children. You know what I’m talking about, it makes their voices louder, it makes them become argumentative and it causes drastic mood swings.

I enter the store as quickly as possible to avoid prolonged exposure to the mood altering rays and begin my shopping enjoyment. My youngest son spots the bananas first thing and begins his usual repetitive request, ba-na, ba-na, ba-na. The sweet little tones of his baby voice soon dissipate into the torturous screams of a hungry troll. Screams, by the way, nobody else in the store want invading the empty space between their ears. Dirty looks, vicious glances and irritated stares ensue. Do they think I am enjoying this? I bag up a bunch of ba-nas and put them in the cart. This seems to anger the troll even more so I give him one.

Ahh . . . Peace and quiet. Does my silencing of the beast appease the angry masses? NO! Now the lady with the screaming kid is stealing a banana! I soon lock eyes with the most annoyed of my judgmental, mental being the key word here, grocery store patrons and it’s on. The starter pistol has been fired. Ready, set, GO!

I follow her wondering if she knows what a grave mistake she has made. I keep pace with her throughout the store, down aisles I have no need to stroll through. I forced her to endure the antics of my brain scrambled children for at least thirty minutes. By the time we reached the checkout line she looked haggard and seemed to have aged a few years. She knew she’d been beaten and took her place in line behind me.

Once we were home and the groceries were put away, I engaged in a heated debate with one of the boys about why it is not polite to belch your ABCs in public. He had some good arguments, he gave it his best shot but I was victorious. I always win with the good old, because I said so, rule.

imageI changed the third diaper of the day, figured my checkbook, did a load of laundry, I even paired up the socks.  I watered the plants just to see if they could be resurrected, mended a boo-boo, refereed three fights, read a story, issued four time outs and put Mr. Freeze in prison. I didn’t even know he could fly. I made a joke that made me the coolest mommy in the world, don’t ask, I can’t remember what it was. Finally, after about a half a dozen other things I sat down . . . for about ten seconds.

Screams of pure terror were coming from the back yard. Racing for the door I imagine countless heart wrenching reasons for these horrible screams, none of which I encountered when I rounded the corner. What I did find, was an insanely frightened two-year old with an ant crawling on his shoe. No blood. No missing limbs. Just an ant. Relieved, I flicked the ant off his shoe and held my trembling son. Poor thing, his little heart was pounding. I did a very good job keeping my laughter at bay until he recovered.

At around 4:30 p.m., the daddy-o walked through the door. I was still smiling when he came into the kitchen. “You look happy.” he says in a thankfully relieved tone. “What’d you guys do today?” I told him of the ant encounter and my victory at the supermarket. He laughed about the ant but thought I was a little mean for torturing the lady at the store.

I start dinner and the whole house is unusually quiet. The baby-man was watching Pooh Bear for the gazillianth time and the other three were in the back yard creating an insect village. My dear husband disappeared into the garage and I enjoyed the serenity and harmony of my world. It lasted long enough for the water to boil.

imageMy now not so dear husband storms in ranting about some missing tool which he soon finds right where he left it The children begin to fight over the custody of a rolly polly bug and the baby’s diaper explodes. Calmly, I tell every member of my loving family if anyone wants to eat dinner they had better take care of whatever problems they had and leave me alone or I was going on strike.

The kitchen cleared out and I continued on with my duties. My darling spouse unwillingly changed the diaper, I heard the usual ewws and ughs along with comments like, “What the heck do you feed this kid?” and my favorite, “When was the last time you even changed him?” The rolly polly escaped in the heat of battle and the kids where once again hunting for new pets.

Shortly after 5:00 p.m. the children sit down and quietly consume the nutritious, balanced meal I’d lovingly prepared for them. They rinsed their dishes and skipped off to brush their teeth. Their father made sure they were bathed and ready for bed. He read them a story while I relaxed and unwound in the shower. Once again refreshed and revived, I snuck in to say prayers with them, I snuggled close and kissed them goodnight and they fall fast asleep.

You didn’t buy into a word of that did you? In all honesty, they did eat dinner quietly. Hot dogs, mac & cheese, corn niblets and milk make for a nutritious meal, right? It really was lovingly prepared. The dishes actually sat on the table until about 10:00 p.m. and I think at least two of them brushed their teeth.

Daddy wiped them down with a washcloth while I rinsed some unknown substance off my hand. Then we said prayers and gave hugs and kisses. Then there where drinks and bathroom trips and more hugs and monster under the bed checks and more kisses. All in all, it took the Sandman a little over an hour to find our house and guide them off to sleepyville.

At 10:52 p.m., my husband gently kisses me goodnight and my eyes slam shut. I am rudely awakened not long after by the deafening sounds coming from my snoring soul mate. My perfect husband, the love of my life, I pinch his nose shut until he grunts and rolls over. I say a prayer and thank God for getting me through another day and then finally, I sleep.

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It is 4:30 a.m. again. I awaken and all is dark. I can’t see. I can’t move. I feel as if I am being suffocated. Trapped and helpless, terror begins to take over.

In a desperate attempt to save myself, I take the sleeping baby off of my head and gently place him atop my husband’s precious face to muffle the snoring and I drift back to sleep . . .

Crystal R. Cook