Once a Mother....

Tonight's conversation with my Mom. in. my. head.

"Finally went to Quick Care.  She said I have Sinusitis and an ear infection"

"Oh my goodness.  You need to make sure you get that taken care of!  Do you remember when you were in Riley?  That girl that was in there for Sinusitis?  Her face was swollen up so much it looked like she had a baseball in her tear duct. Do you remember that? That poor girl.  You don't want to end up like that poor girl do you?"

 "No Mom, I don't want to end up like her.  I already took my prescription and got the other stuff the doctor recommended."

And that ear infection.  Do you remember me telling you about (insert some random relative of a person I'm sure I've heard her talk about but can't place for the life of me)'s ear?  Her ear actually (did some horribly obscure thing that only happens on Mystery's of the ER" 

"Well of course I don't want that to happen Mother.  That sounds horrible." 

"Did you take some Tylenol?  I have Extra Strength Tylenol.  Want me to bring you some this weekend?  Have you gargled saltwater?  You need to get that water as hot as you can stand and get the salt in it..." 

Dreams

My first clue that it was a dream should have been that I was wearing lipstick.

The second clue should have been when I entered some sort of Goblet of Fire maze on a ferry boat.

The third one should have been when it turned really violent.

But those didn't wake me up or clue me in to the fact that I was having a Craaaazy dream.

The clue that got me though was that it was Mom in the center of the maze.  In a dark, dank, bathroom putting on her own lipstick.  And doing a really poor job of it.

"You know you're dead, right?" I said to her...

"Yeah, I know.  But I didn't know if anyone else knew it." She replied.

"You have to go now" I told her... "you can't be here."



And then she was gone and I was awake.




I spent the next hour panicked.

She's visited in my dreams only a couple of times.  

What if in telling her to go, I sent her away for good.

I tried to get back to sleep, back to that place.

But the place was gone and so was she.

and now I'm left fearing she won't come back.

Promises Kept

A few Sundays ago, in the Sunday School class that James and I attend, we were talking about keeping and breaking promises.  Our lesson mirrors the lessons that the boys are hearing at the same time.  We were asked something along the lines about a time when we were younger and a promise was made and then broken and how we felt about it.

I couldn't remember a single example.  

If my parents made a promise, they kept it.

I learned it early on, so I've tried to pass it along to my own kids.

So I made them a promise, and I as much as I didn't want to... I kept it.

I held it together as much as I could.  I was choked up in the car (a fact that Keegan was kind enough to point out) but didn't have the hysterical sobs I feared.

They were curious.  They looked her stone all over, they checked out the dates and all the pictures.  We walked around for awhile.  The boys both have Murphy in their name, so they liked seeing that, and finding the other Murphys also buried there. 

It was time to go, so I turned my attention to getting Courtlynn buckled into her car seat.  I turned around to tell Suttie Joe to get in... and saw this.

My.heart.shattered.

My WORLD shattered. again.

He was telling her goodbye.  

He turned to get in the car and he was sobbing.

He doesn't even remember her.  But he can't help but be devastated by her loss.

I sobbed with him.  And told them that they could take all the time they needed to tell Grandma whatever they wanted to say.  We unbuckled, and Keegers was the first to say his private words.  

Suttie said his own prayer to Grandma, asking her to not go away again.

And Courty just wanted to take care of her brother.

There weren't as many questions as I thought there would be.  Keegan wanted to know what your heart sounds like when you are having a heart attack.  Or how the workers knew that she was dead.

Suttie wanted to know if we had to go back.

I kept my promise.

Even though it broke some hearts.

So we're going...

"Mom, can you take to me to the place where Grandma is buried?"

The tears fill my eyes immediately.

"I would really like to see it Mommy," Keegers says from the back seat.

"Me too!  I want to see it!" Courty pipes in.

"We haven't ever been there Mommy.  Have you ever been there Mommy?"

I have to compose myself before answering.  Because I don't know what to say.

I've been there once.  On an icy cold December afternoon.  When our tears fell and we put our hands on her coffin and said goodbye.  

I've stayed away.  

I've stayed away because I don't need the tangible reminder that my mom is dead.

I've stayed away because on that horrible day I convinced myself that her coffin was a magician's cabinet.  That whey they closed that lid, God allowed her to slip unseen out the back.

When Dad got the tombstone with pictures, and quotes, and high heels, and trucks, and horses, and anything else that he could stick on that hunk of stone, I stayed away.

"Don't you want to see the tombstone?" Dad asked over and over in the beginning,

"I'll see it eventually, Dad.  You can't live forever."

"I just can't Dad.  I'm not ready." 

He stopped asking.  

I've stayed away, but in doing that, I've kept them away.

I try to pull myself together.  I know that I'll fail.  Then through the tears I say, 

"Keegers, if you want to go Buddy, I can take you.  Mommy just hasn't gone because it makes me sad.  But if you want to see it, I will go."

"Mommy I don't want to see the statue where Grandma died.  It would make me too sad," my Suttie says.  

"That's fine Suttie Joe, if you don't want to go, you don't have to go."

"Maybe I do want to go Mommy," Suttie hesitantly decides.

I've stayed away because I needed to, but they don't want to stay away.  

They want to go.  Maybe they even need to go.

I'm still not ready.

I don't think I'll ever be ready.  

But they are.

and if I learned anything from my mom, it's that we take care of their needs first.

Fall again

I love the fall.  

We are back to school!  Keegers is a 2nd grader and Sutton is a very eager Kindergartner.  Both are in soccer (and I'm even coaching!  Courty is now the big girl at Mary Lou's and has personality to spare!

I love digging out the sweatshirts and fleece, going through the pants we'd packed away to see how much they've grown over summer, and I love getting back into a routine.

It's cooler and all things pumpkin are perfectly acceptable!

As much as I'm enjoying all those things...

I dread the fall.

Courtlynn and Suttie's birthdays, school pictures, visits to pumpkin patch, Halloween, Thanksgiving... those all mark the passing of time in such a concrete way.

Courty will be 3.  An entire year older than Suttie was....

Suttie is in Kindergarten... reading.  He was barely beginning to talk.

Keegan is... well Keegan.  He's still quick as a whip and going full speed.

I adore them.  I am SO thankful that I get to be their mom.  I am SO thankful for every single season I get to spend with them.

But I'm still sad.

I'm sad every single time that Keegan tells me it's "unfair that we only got a little time with Grandma Cindy!  You had a LONG time!"

I'm sad every single time Suttie says "Please take care of Gwandma"

and I'm sad every time Courty tells me "You don't HAVE a mom" or when she tells me that she's a "pretend grandma"

My anxiety skyrockets this time of year.  I get back to doing the morbid math.  The "if I die at 63.. they will be..."

But I know that's not how it works.  Mom's parents were in their 80s and 90s.  Dad's dad died at 53... and he's turning 68.  

I'm still sad.  And it's ok. 

Putting one in the win colum

I didn't cry on Mother's Day.  

I know that seems like a simple thing, but it's been a struggle to get through the last few Mother's Days without the bitterness taking over the sweetness of the day.

Instead I enjoyed the day with my gorgeous babies and played games and ate food that was bad for me and enjoyed the gorgeous flowers that Hubby brought me while Courty sang Happy Birthday.

I didn't cry on Mother's Day.  It's going in the win column.

20 years ago today the lives in my little high school bubble were changed. It's no different of a story than that of pretty much every high school anywhere. There was an accident, we learned that we were NOT invincible, and our childhood fell away in that moment.

Since I started teaching I've seen that same series of events happened in just about every generation of kids.

I've seen students walking the hall carefree one day, and then paid my respects at a funeral home a few days later.

I'm 20 years older, with 20 more years worth of life than that boy.  Nearly 18 more than that girl... and so on.

In that moment... it's all you can do to breathe.  If you even CAN breathe.  I remember getting those phone calls that took my breath away.

But slowly... ever so slowly your lungs begin to fill again. 

You stop drowning in your own tears and you start to move forward.

But you never really forget.

It can be a little boy who barely remembers his grandma crying at bedtime.

It can be a date on a calendar.

It can be a run with an old friend.

And you remember.  And you fight not to cry, and you remind yourself to breathe.

Because ever so slowly your lungs begin to fill again, you stop drowning, and you start moving forward.

Freezing and Fast Forwarding

Keegan is finishing up 1st grade.  A child who had not even attended Pre-School is almost a 7-year old 2nd grader.

Suttie Joe attended Kindergarten Screening this week.  A child who was just beginning to speak is now gearing up for Kindergarten. 

Courty Foo Foo is potty trained.  A child's whose heartbeat had never been heard is no longer a baby or toddler, but a little girl.

I can't help but watch them and SEE them.  I see the amazing little people they are turning into, and can see glimpses of the amazing people they will become.  They are funny and infuriating and brilliant and quick and witty and loving and infuriating... wait, did I say that already?

I know that one day... not so long ago my own mother must have watched me wondering about the person I would become.  

I wonder if as a parent you ever stop watching your children with that sense amazement and awe.  I want to be their mom for as long as I can.  I want to be able to see where they go and who they become and what THEIR babies look like and if they look at them the same way I do now.

I want to freeze time and fast forward at the same time. I want to have these moments now, but want all those moments in the future too.  Can't I have that?