To my sisters

A sister is a gift to the heart, a friend to the spirit, a golden thread to the meaning of life. ~Isadora James


Dear Edie,

In my childhood, I never walked alone. I always had your footsteps to walk into. I knew where ever they would lead, I would be safe. You were my protector, my teacher, my guardian, my bully, but most of all my best friend.

As young sisters, you always let me tag along - even when I annoyed you. I was your sidekick. As sidekicks did, I listened to your commands. Even if it was sitting in a bush for all hours of the night to play hide-n-seek. The joke was on me because I was the only one playing that game. We had our own games. At night, we laid in our beds and would play I spy in the dark and "guess who I'm thinking of."

We had a bond that others did not understand and envied. I believe it's rare for two sisters to actually have a true relationship like we have. When I could not say what I was saying, you could. The times you were down, I tried to make you laugh. You are my role model. As you became a mother, I saw you grow. My love for you become stronger. I only wish I can be half the sister and mother you are. I look forward to what the future holds and know that our sisterhood will never die.

Dear Lindsey and Kelsi,

We weren't given the opportunity to have a stereotypical relationship. Our bond has to travel over 800 miles. I'm sorry that I cannot be there to wipe away the tears you shed. I wish I was there to kiss you good night. I'm sorry I'm not there when you need help with your homework. I wish I could be there to integrate your boyfriends. It saddens me that I have never watch you play a sport or in a play.

My only wish is that I can be the sister Edie was to me, 800 miles away. I love to hear your voice over the phone and to see your smile on the web-cam. No matter how many miles are between us, I am always there. You are on my mind everyday. Each one of you captured my heart the day I first met you.

Lindsey, I love your creativeness. I love your kindred heart. You are stronger than you think. I love your hugs and your laugh. I miss your warmth. I am amazed by your mind. You are a wise women at such a young age. You are exceptional-one of a kind and most of all, my heart.

Kelsi, you seize to amaze me. You have grown up to be an extraordinary lady. I love your ability to go through the obstacles that stand your way. I love your smile. I love your style. You are the most beautiful tom-boy I know. You are also exceptional, and one of a kind. But most of all, you are my heart.

I wish those summers and holidays lasted a life time. I never wish to leave you. As we get older, our love will not fade - life will never get in the way. Please understand, that if I could be at two places at the same time I could. Even though I'm here, it doesn't mean I love you two any less. Our relationship is only stronger because of the miles it has to travel.

To my sisters,
You are my all.
I wouldn't be the person I am today without you.
Each one of you has my heart,
And I will be spending my last breath loving you.

Have you ever considered?

Have you ever considered doing something out of the normal? Something that people around you might believe is abnormal? Or even something you will fail at?

One of the biggest decision I made that seemed out of the normal (for me) was getting tattoos and piercings. In my family, tattoos and piercings were associated with having a darker side. And how could Sara, mamma's little princess, want a tattoo? It was a taboo for my family but it soon became accepted because they didn't define who I was. They were just a part of me.

However, I'm talking about something more. For instance, you are going to school to get a degree in business but your heart really wants to ... become a pastry chef and open a bakery. Or, forfeit school all together to travel the world.

The most acceptable future for me, is to get a degree in a field with a substantial job market. Therefore, I had decided at an early age that I would want to become a teacher. I love the educational field and I do believe it is my calling, such as being a mother and a wife. But ... I want to do something nontraditional that I also believe is my calling.

I want to write a book. I've had ideas floating in my mind just haven't put it to paper. The idea of writing a book is intimidating. It seems to be out of the norm. Maybe a little unrealistic. Should I still get my degree in Education because a writer is not a profession and write on the side? Or, should I study literature and write on the side? That would open my mind to other sources of writing and broaden my mind in the world of literature. And if writing a book doesn't succeed, I would have something to fall back on. Or do I just write?

Writing a book may not seem like a crazy idea to you, but if you like to paint do you quit your job to do just that paint?

This is a large task to tackle. Many risks are involved. Do I want to open up my mind and write just to be rejected? Of course if I wrote a book I would want to have it published. Not for fame but for self gratification. What if no one wants to publish it? What if I decided to write about my past? Am I going to hurt anyone? Will people turn away from me?

How do you decided to go forth with a task that is possibly filled with many risks?

Independence

Hello again!

Wow. It has been too long. As predicted in my first blog, I slack off and back away from things I set out to do. My priorities always seem to be the first to disappear. Why can't I do something for me?

I seem to loss focus when it comes to what makes me happy. Being a mother makes me happy and being a wife. But what makes me happy if I strip away motherhood and being a wife? I love to write.

It's a simple process that brings so much enjoyment within my life. But ... it rarely happens. I can't find the time and if I do its either short lived or I feel guilty. Instead of writing, I should be spending more time with Curtis or clean the bathrooms or better yet, sleeping! And, am I a bad person - mother/wife - for wanting some alone time, long enough to focus on something I want to do?

I don't want to sound like I'm complaining about being a homemaker. I wouldn't trade it for the world, but can't I be both? I'm not saying I have a bad life. It's just ... how do I maintain, me? I'm grateful for the wonderful husband I have. He is always willing to help with the laundry, give Curtis a bath, and even works two jobs. So, how do I have to right to ask for some alone time? Where is his too?

For the sanity of myself and my family, I believe it is healthy to maintain a certain type of independence. But its only a matter of time before I stop and forget my needs. For Curtis will need a clean diaper, something to drink, or a shoulder to lay on. The bills will have to get paid. The house will need to be cleaned. My husband will need help with school. Is my independence their stability?

Until next time.

It's been awhile.

I knew it. Like I stated on my first blog. I cannot complete task that I assign myself!!!

I miss writing. I started my English class online and the writing bug bit me again. I want to share with you my first writing for English. The instructor asked for us to write a narrative. Please enjoy!

I was awaking to an unfamiliar sensation: a scenario that I read in books and I prepared myself for. However, to be faced with this with nine months of preparation, I began to fear. “Childbirth is a time when a woman’s power and strength emerge full force, but it is also a vulnerable time, and a time of many changes presenting opportunities for personal growth.” (Oploo)

It was July 14, 2008 at 2:30 am when I awoke to my water breaking. Since this was my first child, I still was uncertain that my water was breaking. I rushed to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. Maybe I was dreaming? Therefore, I splashed cold water onto my face and looked back into the mirror. My question was shortly answered, when a voiding sensation would not stop evening though I was not using the restroom. Now, the journey begins.

I woke my husband up and grab my overnight bag. I stood at the door waiting for my husband to get dressed. I was no longer filled with fear but excitement. It is finally here. The day I get to meet my baby boy. John (my husband) with phone to hear was calling my mother in a frantic manner explaining to her that we were on the way to give birth. “No Tracy, this is not a false alarm,” John expressed in a sarcastic manner. We walked hand in hand to our car. This was the last time it will only be us two: husband and wife. Next time we walk together in our yard, we will be a family.

I was admitted to a labor and delivery room. No longer a triage room! The nurse placed the heart rate monitor on my ever so expanding belly. Ba bump. Ba bump. Ba bump. Whoosh. Whoosh. Ba bump. Ba bump. Tears began to flow down my face. His heart rate was perfect and he was moving around. I placed my hand tightly to my stomach, giving it one last hug. And I whispered “No longer will you be protected inside. Soon you are going to face the world. However, mommy and daddy will always be your protectors. I love you Curtis.” It was a happy and sad reality that he wouldn’t be inside me anymore. I had carried this precious baby inside me for nine months.

Ten hours has passed and he was stubborn. The nurses began to elevate my bed to a sitting upright position. I was 9 cm; however, he was stuck. The purpose of my bed becoming into this ridiculously huge chair was to let gravity do its job by allowing Curtis to descend. An hour passed and he was in the birth canal. Now, I began to push.

The doctor told the nurse to turn off the epidural because it was effecting my pushing. I started to have tunnel vision. The sounds around me became muffled. He wouldn’t move. He was stuck. I began to search around the room to find familiar faces. John, right beside me holding my hand, was pale. “Mom! Where are you?” She gently laid her hand upon my face and kissed me. Very softly she said, “Sara. Do this for Curtis. You need to push. You need to get Curtis out. He can’t breathe anymore.”

Automatically, like it was a 6^th sense I had, I pushed. There was no thinking involved. I told him I would protect him. I will not fail. The doctor looked at me and I knew that I had to give it my all or I would be rushed into an emergency c-section. I nodded in his direction. He then proceeded to aide me by vacuuming him out of the birth canal. Curtis was here. I saw my son for the first time but it wasn’t right. He was grey and blue. No crying. Why isn’t he crying!? The nurse told my mom to shut of the camera. “Curtis. Cry for momma. Come on sweety. Everything is okay now.” I said softly in my mind; however, I thought I was screaming it. Seconds passed but it was an eternity. John squeezed my hand tightly and with that we heard a noise: a faint cry. He fought. He was here.

Shortly after we all heard his first cry, the doctor placed him onto my stomach. I looked at him in amazement but something was still wrong. He didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. Why isn’t he still crying? I told John, “Something’s wrong. Give him back!” The nurse then took Curtis away. It would be another four hours until I got to see him again. Luckily, I did see him again: alive, rose pinched cheeks and making unforgettable noises. I was told that Curtis had fluid backed up into his lungs and it was preventing him from breathing. It was a simple fix but something major.

Now, life began. There weren’t any more complications with Curtis. He was healthy and happy, and so were John and I. We were discharge three days later. As John drove home, 5 mph under the speed limit with the hazard lights on, I sat beside my son as his mother. “The moments a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.” (Rajneesh) We pulled into our driveway. John opened the car door and took Curtis out. I then stepped out, grabbed John’s hand. And then, we walked hand in hand, as a family, to our home.

Lifescape

Day 3.

"Life is full of beauty. Notice it. Notice the bumble bee, the small child, and the smelling faces. Smell the rain, and fell the wind. Live your life to the fullest potential and fight for your dreams." - Ashley Smith

Something so simple can be forgettable as your world blows by with daily frustration.

Your alarm clock didn't go off on time. Your misplaced your cell phone. You forgot to give your kid lunch money. A bill was bounced. Spilled your morning coffee on your clothes on a way to a meeting.

As your whirling by your car door to get to your ten o'clock doctors appointment, did you notice the butterfly that flew by?

Moments in time can go by as fast as the flutter of that butterfly. But in the world of go, how are we expected to notice?

Noticing that one moment that lasted a brief second can bring a sensation of happiness for the day, can be done. Just look up. Sit down. Watch. Listen

Turn a world that can be filled with small inconveniences which bring your day down. Into recognizing the small, precious lifescapes that could possibly make your day.

Until next time, Turas math dhut!

Motherhood

What decision would you make, if you were handed a brochure?

It's white, with one word, Motherhood. Inside it simply defines the word. Noun. - a female parent; a woman in authority; specifically : the superior of a religious community of women (2) : an old or elderly woman; maternal tenderness or affection.

After reading, is motherhood for you?

How can you describe something that is indescribable? Better yet, a word, that has an infinite amount of possibilities for a true definition.

My motherhood expressed in words.

Amazing. Beautiful. Chaotic. Draining. Entertaining. Forever. Gratifying. Heart Wrenching. Ironic. Joyous. Knowledgeable. Loyal. Mesmerizing. Never ending. Optional. Powerful. Quintessential. Rewarding. Spiritual. Tender. Unbelievable. Vigorous. Xenophobic. Yearning. and ZESTY!

But when I close my eyes and listen to my soul singing motherhood, I hear the laughter of one individual. Curtis. No word will ever be able to describe the true meaning of being his mother.

However, I do wish I could. So, I can share with the world the amazing world that he has created. My world was incomplete before him. I was unaware of this, but now I don't remember what it was like breathing without him.

How can I be mad at the world, when I have him to hold at night? When I have him to kiss during the day? When I have him to teach, to love, and to protect?

Motherhood is the purest form of love.

"The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new." ~Rajneesh

Until next time, Turas math dhut!

Just the beginning

Day 1.

The first day to many blogs. I hope.

I am a person who sets their mind to complete something. To have a yearning to want to become something great. I get side tracked.

I want to look back on my life and see that I did finish something meaningful. That I didn't stop and let is slowly disappear in the fog of my mind.

The one thing, without question, that I will complete is the unconditional love of raising my son. However, I want him ... and my other children ... to look back with their children and not only express their love to them by which they learned through me. But I want them to be able to physically show them something great I created. I have no degree nor a great home. Not financially sound. But I have a great heart and an honest mind. So, how can I put this to use now? Why not a daily blog?

I'm uncertain if I will stay committed. For I have started many task, just never finished. But (maybe just maybe) if I set this out as a daily task, as I do, brushing my teeth, taking a shower, and so forth. Then it could become routine. Right?

Routine ... mph? Sounds too boring. Therapeutic. Yes, therapeutic. A way to unwind at the end of the day. Or a refreshing start to the day. And when all else fails, something to do when I get board during NAP TIME!

I guess this is enough for now. Until next time, Turas math dhut!