Forty Something Parents

The Ins & Outs of Parenting


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The Scent of Longing

I woke up this morning wishing I could call my mom; and wondering when my oldest daughter will get over the thing she thinks was bad enough to not speak to me for over 3 months.  If only I could have just three more months with my mom, I’d be the happiest girl in the world.  I miss her so bad on most days, that it’s unbearable.  She was a forty-something mom too. 

So many times she’d tell me the story of how I came to be; how my Daddy gave me my name; how I would always be her baby.  My heart continues to hurt.  I wish I could call her and have her be the mediator between me and my oldest daughter ‘M’.  I miss her pretty face.  I miss my precious little grandson; his smile that will light up any dark day or pitch-black room.  He is a gem…a priceless gem!  And I haven’t gotten to see him…hold him…smell the way my little guy smells; like a bit of dried up milk and…well…like my grandson. 

We all have our own scent; that one way we smell to those around us, whether it be good or bad.  When you love someone, that scent-of-a-person is always a welcoming thing; like going home after being away for a long…long time.  My mom always smelled like Roses and perfume; an indescribable scent that belonged only to her. 

I can open the jewelry box that I inherited; the one that had belonged to Mom since I can’t remember—perhaps longer than I’ve been alive—and it still has her scent.  I’m careful not to open it too often…so-as not to lose it forever.  At least that way, I still have my mom…at least a little.   

Even still, knowing the changes that will be taking place in our lives this coming month; the changes that are already taking shape, I want to see and talk to…to hug my ‘M’ and little ‘J’ even more.  My heart hurts more and more with every thought and wonder of how they are doing.  Are they safe…?  Are they happy…?  How much bigger is my little guy now than he was back in December; the last time I got to hold him in my arms all night because he was down with a fever and his mom had something to do.  I wish I could make it all right again.  I wish…I could cry more often…to release the years of pain and hurt built-up inside of my heart.  I wish my kids could see inside of me…inside my heart, then they would never have any doubt about how much I really do love them.  Nothing will ever change that.

So now I am faced with the tasks at hand: too many to mention in one sitting.  It is time to roll with the wind once more…and see what needs to be seen.  I have sat here day after day, wondering when it will all seem new again; when my kids will pull up into the drive; when it will all be better, but it is still just what it is.  That is why I have to go with the flow–do what needs to be done, face what needs to be faced, and hope and pray that one day…soon, my family will all be one once again.  We will all be alright…truly better for having suffered through this time; minus of course that one void we will never be able to fill.  My mom is still not with us.  I miss her.  I miss her. 

*Love like there is no tomorrow.  Forgive like you wish to be forgiven*  

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The Land of Lost Toys

Baby Cuddles Mr. Bear

Baby Cuddles Her Favorite Toy — Mr. Bear

It’s funny how we can grow attached to the simplest things when we’re kids (even adults); like my toddler’s Mr. Bear. He’s gone missing…so it seems, and nowhere we’ve searched has he shown his pink, fuzzy face. You see…? He’s not just any bear. He’s Mr. Bear! He is a very special little bear, when it comes down to that one toy my little girl wants when it comes time to travel, eat, sleep…anything in between. He is her favorite toy…out of all the rest, and he hasn’t been seen for several days.

It might sound funny to those of you who’ve never experienced the attachment one can grow to a seemingly unimportant object, but the love is in the giver, the owner, perhaps even the co-owners; such as Mommy and Daddy (Nico and myself). Either way, we are feeling a sense of remorse for not better-looking-after Mr. Bear; a feeling of grief that a member of our family is no longer with us. And his little owner is missing him very much these past few days; especially yesterday. She was asking for him when we were loading up to make a simple trip to the store. Nico and I just looked at each other; careful not to comment any further on Baby’s requests for her little guy.

Still, my heart aches for her loss of the bear she’s had since before she was ever born; the cuddly soft, once pretty and pink, little stuffed bear that her aunt–my big sister–had given her at her baby shower. Through all our travels, Mr. Bear has been there. When Baby came home, brand-spanking-new from the hospital, Mr. Bear was there. In all of her photos, from newborn on up to a few days ago, that not-quite-so-pink-anymore bear has been in her little arms; usually dirty because she won’t let go of him long enough for us to wash him. That’s how loved that little bear is by our little girl. And he’s gpne. I pray we find him, because–even though I know this must all sound silly to so many–we miss that grungy, flip-floppy, little guy. We really do.

So…this is a message, a warning of sorts, to all of you parents out there…to watch closely after that one toy you know your child would miss the most should it ever come up missing; I know I wish now, I would have.

Many Blessings that you never have to endure such a loss of your or your child’s, favorite thing in life; no matter how simple it may be. I pray we find our Mr. Bear soon. His family is missing him very…very much!

*Sometimes the Smallest things in Life, Matter the most*


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THE ART OF FORGIVENESS

Any mother who has ever bonded with her child–and most-likely we all have–has come to learn the Art of Forgiveness.  And during the course of nurturing our kids into adulthood, we’ve likely noticed along the way that our kids don’t always inherite that same tendency to forgive; Which brings me to the other day.

My son turned twenty on the 26th, and if you’ve read my prior posts in this blog you see that I’ve been on the outs with my adult kids for a while now.  It all comes down to respect, knowing one’s place in the family status, maturity, being ‘kind’ to one another, and — yes…you guessed it — forgiveness.

Last month (it seems like so long ago to me), I had a disagreement with my oldest daughter ‘M’.  Well, it has long-been her practice to hold a grudge til it screams for her to let it go.  She doesn’t…ever!  She throws things up from the past, and more-often that not, it is a very distorted…one-sided recolection, at best. 

Enter my son.  He was somehow dragged into the disagreement between me and M.  They both linched me on Facebook…their ‘friends’ joined in the linching…so on and so forth, until I had to block them all.  I use FB mostly for business promo, so this was a major embarrassment.  Either way, it tore my heart out that my kids (especially my son…who had absolutely nothing to do with the disagreement), turned on me so furotiously. 

So…I have tried to move on and smooth it all over since then.  And all the while I ask myself ‘Why am I reaching out to them when they both disrespected me so vulgerly on FB?’.  It’s simple…yet complicated.  I forgive my kids no matter what they do to me…or say to me.  I love them and love is forgiving.

Trouble is, they aren’t forgiving…at all!  I contacted my son for his birthday, and he wasn’t having it. 

Yes…my husband (his step-dad) took up for me and told them both to stay away –since we have a very impressionable toddler to worry about teaching–until they learned respect and knew their bounderies…their places in this family.  It seems the kids are now trying to control the parents in many families across the country or world.  In my day, we wouldn’ve never…EVER talked to our parents like my kids have talked to me, nor would we have ever acted the way my kids have acted.  I loved my parents, which showed in my behavior. 

Now, I’m left to wonder–Do my kids even love me?  It’s not looking so much like they do.  How do I know?  They are bitter, full of hate for me, and most of all…unforgiving.  I might not have been the best mom in the world, but against the odds I was dealt way back when I was bringing them into adulthood (being a single mom with a manipulating ex husband and inlaws), it was me against the world.  There were too many people butting into our business, and I didn’t know until it was too late and my kids had already sided against me with other ‘friends’ who only wanted to be popular with other parents’ teens.  They hadn’t even grown up themselves!

Needless to say, this has been a uphill emotional battle with my kids.  No one knows my side of the story unless they read it here, because I choose not to air my dirty laundry on FB.  But…I have to let it out somehow.  So…here I sit and pour my heart out to readers of my blog.  And I find often that I’m just one in a million-billion Moms who have gone through so much for their kids…only to be stomped on when they grow into ‘kids in adult bodies’. 

I know my kids have a LOT of growing up to do!  I blame ‘Generation E’ (E meaning entitlement) on many of these dumb shows airing on ‘the WB’ or similar networks; these ‘teeny-bopper soaps’ where the youngsters are living posh lifestyles (courtesy of their parents’ hard work), driving fancy cars (Mom and Dad bought), and playing adult roles (they are way too young to handle).  I’d rather go the the dentist’s chair than watch such garbage. But that is what our young minds of tomorrow are absorbing.  Hog Wash!

Enough venting…

I just keep asking myself where I went wrong.  And often-times I can look back and see a lot of what I should’ve or shouldn’t have done.  Still, I’ve been told by my friends who have known me through-out my kids’ upbringing–friends with kids the same age, who have faced the same challenges, who really…really knew me–that perhaps I had spoiled my kids too much.  Looking back, this former room-mother, fashion designer/seamstress for my kids, bakery chef and host of two birthday-parties-a-year for 15+ years, nightly book reader, Mom who took my kids to work because their dad didn’t show up, diaper changer, feeder, soothing, nurturer, so on and so forth, just might have catered to my older kids a bit too much. 

The point is, there is no way…ever, that a Mom’s services-rendered can be listed.  The list is endless and it continues to grow no matter how old our kids.  And my third list, the one for my toddler, will be endless too.  That’s okay with me.  A mother never keeps tabs really, we just continue to do what we do; all the while hoping our kids will someday grow up to return the kindness and understanding…and the forgiveness

Moms have dreams too.


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A Mother’s Dream

*I’m up early this morn–I had a dream about my daughter (the oldest one)* I miss her face and my GBear, too. : (

As the dream went:  She was at my door–where we lived before–and she looked very sad and lost.  I quickly unlocked the chain when I saw it was her.  She was wearing a red T-Shirt; the one she always wore to sleep, the words “I’m a Pepper” written across it.  I was holding my toddler on my hip, and she began asking about her nephew–my grandson…the son of my oldest–as they had become quite close since he came home from the hospital.  He had been born with complications and specials needs at only 3.5 lbs, but had quickly grown into a heppy…healthy little tyke.  *My heart hurts to see his smile.*

In my dream, my oldest (I’ll call her ‘M’), reached for Baby (my youngest) but Baby turned away and kept asking for my grandson.  My daughter ‘M’ didn’t seem to care that I was standing there, but then it all faded away and I felt a very eery feeling come over me….just before I woke up in tears.

Hubby heard my sobbing and tried to console me, even though he wasn’t quite awake yet.  Now, it’s early morning Saturday….and I’m feeling scared for my daughter and grandson.  I want to hold him in my arms.  I want to hold her like I did when she was young.  I feel so lost for answers, as I’ve tried to call her…but she does not answer.  I’ve tried to call my son too–though he’s another story entirely–he doesn’t answer either.

My kids (minus Baby) have 86’ed me from their lives.  The reason my daughter ‘M’ might give is that I stood her up for a dinner that I RSVP’ed to–though most people will never hear the part where she told me not to go, she didn’t want me there; right before hanging up in my ear.  We decided against exposing our youngest to any drama that might ensue should we go anyway.

As for my son–He never called me and asked what was going on between me and his big sister.  He just went to linching me right along with her.  Still, I’m not mad at either on of them…even if the trust has crumbled.  I miss them, even though they have the tendencies to dig up old bones, that are distorted in truth at best.  I love them…no matter what they do or say to me.  As I’m sure all mother’s know–Our love is unconditional.

Still, I wish I could go back to sleep…if only to see my daughter’s face once again.  My grandson wasn’t in the dream, though I wondered where he was.  I miss his sweet smile.  I miss my son’s goofy nature…and when was the class clown; the teachers always sending home notes.  I still hope that someday…he’ll become a comedian in movies, like Jim Carrey.  I’ll never give up on my kids.  I sooner give up on myself.

The sun is rising-fast across the lake.  How I wish they could be here with me to see it.

*Oh my aching heart*


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A Mother’s Prayer

The Joy of Innocents

 

Awoke early this morning — my mind an abundance of thoughts. The sun has-yet to show its face as I sit here and try to find my words. Still…nothing. Laying in bed this morning, I had so many things to say; if only I could record what I am thinking right when it strikes. But, my dreams remain elusive to the writing I attempt this cold, crisp…late December day.

I have been thinking a lot about my older children: the one’s who are now grown in years, but still so young in mentality; the one’s who are still not talking to me, mostly…I suspect, because they feel guilty for writing such harsh things about me on Facebook and disrespecting me worse than I ever imagined they could…or would. My heart was shattered that day; the day I had no choice but to block my own kids from my social page. I still can’t believe it wasn’t all a terrible nightmare.
But…it is only another day in my life…with my adult kids constantly blaming me for anything…everything that has ever gone wrong for them. Will it ever end? I wonder…

I pray that my youngest–still in her toddler years–will have a milder temperament when it comes to forgiveness, understanding, loving another unconditionally. I suspect, because she is partially of a different genetic pool, that she will not be so difficult as my other two have always been. There has been no break from drama for the past 10 to 15 years. Never a dull moment with those two. I miss when they were young and still so innocent and sweet. I worry where I went wrong; hoping I won’t make the same mistakes with Baby.

Being a mom is the single-most difficult, scary, frustrating, heartbreaking, rewarding, priceless job a woman can do in her lifetime. Being a dad is equally the same for dedicated fathers who stand by their wife (or ex-wife…be-it-so) through it all.

I commend those parents who seem to have it down to a science; the ones who have reared their children so well. I look up to them…and envy them, all at once.
The only thing I have left to do these days…so it seems, is pray.