Jump.

I wanted to write about something positive today.  But I realized I wasn't quite there.  I don't know if its because of all that blasted rain and the everyday stresses that seem to get me down.  But I just wasn't feeling it.  So, I decided to just sit and write and see what happens.

That's the way most things go, you know.  Need to get dinner but have no idea what you're hungry for?  Go to the grocery store and see what looks good. . .or what's on sale.  Then, before you know it, you're excited about dinner.  This is a process that speaks loudly to me.  I'll admit that it is nice when I'm feeling all organized and looking at lists to tell me what to do and when.  But I never get the same feeling of satisfaction that comes with pulling something out of thin air at the last minute and watching it soar.

This is the last week of my forty-fifth year here on planet earth.  I don't feel forty-five.  But then again, how exactly is forty-five supposed to feel?  I wouldn't know.  I think it is funny how we judge our age by looking at other people.  I see more evidence of the passage of time by looking at my children than by looking at myself.  They are the road markers in my life. .I was 20 when Caitlin was born, 23 for Jenny, 30 for Colton.  I was 27 when I said goodbye to Madison.  Every single one of those days impacted the course of my life.  And every 24 hour period prior to each of those days was for me, standing on the cusp of something wonderful. 

One thing I have learned as I've gotten 'older' ::gag cough:: is that it appears to the untrained eye that there aren't as many of 'those' days.  I am slowly learning that they are still there.  You just have to look for them.  And sometimes you have to pull them out of thin air.  Maybe we don't give those days as much credit because they seem to come from within.  They are days that aren't necessarily celebrated and remembered every 12 months, but when you look back, they always stand out as days to remember.  Days where you were forced to grow and change in a dramatic way.  Days where you surprised yourself with what you could do.  Days where you stood on the cusp and then pressed forward through the fear and doubt to accomplish something you never knew you were capable of.  

This week I am celebrating my birthday, but I am also celebrating all those days that brought me to where I am today..  And I'm also remembering those days of standing on the cusp, wondering if I had the strength, wondering if I was brave enough, worrying that I would fail. . .and then doing it anyway.   

I want to tell the lady in the painting to jump.  I want to tell her that I know there could be rocks in the water, and yes, she may hit them.  But the water looks GOOD and the moment while she is flying in the air will be amazing.  And if she doesn't jump, she'll never know how great it could have been. 

So, what are you waiting for? 

Jump.

Cake.

"I don't want beck-skus.  I want CAKE!"  nephew Anthony, 2 years old

This quote is quite famous in my family and it happened one morning before I had children while we were visiting family.  My nephew was having a battle with his mom over whether he should have beck-skus (breakfast) or cake.  I don't remember who won.  But I remember thinking, of course he wants cake!  We all want cake!  Why can't we just have cake?!?

Anthony was awesome and probably taught me more about being a mom than any other child.  He was smart.  (He took his training wheels off his bike before his 5th birthday and rode it like he'd been doing it all his life.)  And he had his own opinions and he let them be known.  So what if everybody thought he looked cute in his Osh Kosh overalls?  He didn't want to wear them so he sat on the stairs until they were taken off.  His mom, who had the patience of Job, would properly challenge him to do whatever she needed to do.  Sometimes she won.  Sometimes she didn't.  But watching their exchanges, you got a glimpse into the inner workings of the United Nations.  Challenge.  Discussion. Compromise.  Three words that best describe the job of being a parent.  (or challenge, discussion, challenge, challenge, cave, challenge, discussion, discussion, compromise, compromise, challenge, discussion, and so on. . .you get the picture)

When I had children, I had developed my own ideas of parenting.  I have to stop here and acknowledge that very few of those ideas made the final cut.  Shall we list a few just for fun? 

No kids in bed with mom and dad.  (spectacular fail)  This one ended with my very first at three days of age when I accidentally fell asleep with her while nursing in bed and felt like a human being when I woke up. 

Sleep training.  (total fail)  That poor first child. . .they have to suffer through all those pathetic attempts at doing something you 'thought' was a good idea because you read it in a book.  I tried it once, but when I went to check why she was so quiet, I could see her tear-streaked face and she was doing that post-cry hiccup in her sleep.  I picked her up and rocked her while she slept and apologized. 

Obedient children in public.  (uh, yeah, right)  How do you even create this?  My first child, yea that one, liked to pretend babies laying on the floor were ponies for her to ride.  Moms would pick up their babies off the floor when we would walk in.  Smart moms.  Once when I had both girls, I was with a group of moms at a restaurant and one of them looked at me and said, "You are amazing.  You are such a patient mom."  (Translation: your kids are brats and I don't know how you stand it.) 

No sugar or preservatives.  Obviously parents who are successful at this have live-in chefs, never turn on a TV, never eat out, and don't have relatives who think its cute to give a baby ice cream.  I humbly salute you.

One of the things I realized later was that every rule I broke brought me closer to the mom I wanted to be.  Every challenge I made to myself, to others, to the books, helped me to clarify what was most important to me.  It helped me to look at my children and celebrate who they were meant to be. Instead of judging value by what others say, I developed my own values.  And I agreed with Anthony.  I didn't want beck-skus.  I wanted cake.

The cake of being a mom. . .that's easy.  Appreciating where you are.  Seeing your children as the unique, facinating, exasperating human beings they are and being okay with that.  Keeping an open mind.  Reading your heart more than you read a book.  Listening at least as much as you talk.  Patting yourself on the back for the hard work you do.  Knowing that your were meant to parent the children you have.  (I totally believe this.  My mom swears by it in the you'llhaveonejustlikeyou sorf of way, but I think there is a bigger purpose, too.)

One unexpected surprise that I received once I let myself off the Good Mother hook was that I realized that I love kids with a little spice.  I was blessed with three.  Standing toe-to-toe with a four year old who refuses to wear anything other than pink sandles with flowers on a day when its 22 degrees outside can be frustrating, but inside you have to cheer this kid on!  Good for YOU!  Fight for those sandles, baby!  Know what you want!  (but please not today when Mommy is in a hurry. . .)

I can't believe I'm actually saying this out loud, but I respect my children when they challenge me.  They are supposed to.   I don't believe children learn to be truly independent by being told, "when you get older, you get to have a say."  They need to exercise those muscles and trust in their abilities to have an opinion, support it, and deal with the outcome.  This doesn't mean they get their way.  But it does mean they get their 'say.'

As your children grow, these things still stick.  You still celebrate those moments when your children forge their own paths that will no doubt look very different than yours.  Yea, blue hair!  Good for you!  Tattoo. . .yeagoodforyou. Those moments that looked like pig-headed stubbornness when they were little magically transform into unstoppable determination.  The moment when my first child looked at me and said, "I'm moving away to finish college," I knew it was a done deal.  She got her degree just as easily as she got to wear pink sandles (with the compromise of socks) in 22 degree weather.

And those moments when they happen to do something that mirrors your values, they are even sweeter.  Because you KNOW they questioned and challenged and decided your way wasn't so bad afterall.  But you will find that you will cheer just as much for the times when they are not on your team as you do when they are.  They may not be on your team, but you will forever be on theirs. 

Go team.  Eat cake.

Sidetracked

I'm supposed to be cleaning.  At least, that was my plan for today.  But I got sidetracked when I came across my old middle school annuals sitting (dusty) on my shelf.  Since I never miss an opportunity to be distracted from cleaning, I started thumbing through them.

I went to Jonesboro Junior High in Jonesboro, GA.  I went there because I had recently moved from the house I grew up in to a new town.  It was an interesting time in my life because on one side things were good (bigger house, cheerleading. . . important things to a 12 year-old,) but on the other side things were falling apart (my parent's marriage.)  Aside from the obvious awkward puberty experience, I was discovering new things about myself, that I was more than just the girl with skinny legs and uncontrollable frizzy hair.  I had opinions.  And if my parents had bothered to ask me, I could have told them my thoughts on what was happening to our family.  Not that it would have made anything different, but I realized I had a unique point of view.  But, I had not yet found my full voice.  That would come later. 

What I had found was a group of friends who knew how to have fun.  And I mean F.U.N.  For the first time, I actually got in trouble at school for pretending to swim on the sinks in the girls' bathroom.  I made my first D.  I smoked a cigarette, well, at least I pretended to.  And I got caught stealing perfume on a dare from the local Eckerd Drug Store.  None of these things resulted in a call to my parents.  (I was, however, banned from entering that drug store on Jonesboro Rd. and I do believe I kept that promise.)  My friends spent our weekends collecting toilet paper from our houses and decorating the neighborhood with it.  Then cleaning it up the next day when the neighbors came knocking at the door.  It may sound like I was a hoodlum, but our activities were fairly benign.  And I never did pick up smoking even though I tried.

I only had two years at this school before my mom moved us to Tennessee, her hometown.  But it was a very important time for me.  I learned that I could take care of myself.  And I learned that even when things may look like they are falling apart around you, that you still have you.  And you can choose whether to sink into it or rise above it.  Aside from my moment of thievery, I think I did a pretty good job.

As my daughters have gotten older, they have shared stories about the things they did when they were about the same age.  I have to admit, they surprised me.  (I still can't believe you guys snuck out the window and I didn't know it. . .)  I guess we see what we want to see.  I preferred to think my girls were safe in bed.  I'm sure my mother prefers to think that I didn't steal that perfume - after I told her the story when I was like, 38.  LOL 

I think we all get sidetracked from time to time.  But even those moments are important because you feel it.  It's like sleeping on the wrong side of the bed.  No matter how hard you try to stay, you always end up on the other side.  You find your way back to your space, and you're better for it.

I guess that means I have to go back and clean now.  :-)  Have a great week!

Becoming.

"The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day when you find out why."  Mark Twain

Yep, I totally saw that on a Facebook post the other day and it has been on my mind ever since.  I wonder if there really is a day when we find out why we were born.  I think it is more likely that we sorta know why we were born and those 'days' serve more to remind us of all the reasons we were meant to be here. 

I always knew I wanted to be a nurse.  When I was little, I have a vivid memory of making IV bottles out of cough syrup containers and yarn and attaching them to my dolls to make them better.  Sometimes I used real needles.  (Mom, you didn't just read that.)  I cut them open to take out their appendix.  I made casts.  I had the most accident prone and infected dolls on the planet and they all benefited from my nursing care.  (I also wanted to be a mom, but I will save you from my 'giving birth to dolls' stories.)

I loved watching Emergency (c'mon, you remember Randolph Mantooth?) and my favorite line was, "Start an IV with D5W."  They said it on every single show.  Go check it out on YouTube and you'll see that I'm right.  And don't even get me started on Trapper John, MD with the nurse with gorgeous legs and the doctor dude who wore cool surgical hats and lived in an RV in the hospital parking lot.  High quality 1970's TV right there.

It took me awhile to get to my goal.  I didn't start college until I was 32 and my three kids were in school.  I was so afraid that I couldn't do it that I didn't even pick nursing as my major until I got through College Algebra without driving off a bridge.  I figured if I could survive that, I could do the rest.  And I did.

But even with my interest and passion to be a nurse, I had no idea of how it would affect my life.  As convenient as it might be to just have a job that you can turn on and off at will, this thing I do seeps into every aspect of me.  It doesn't define me.  But it is certainly a part of me.

Being a nurse who works primarily with moms and babies brings its own unique share of joy.  To be present at the birth of a baby is the most life affirming act I think we can experience as human beings.  To see a baby's first breath, to touch untouched skin, to look into eyes and make a connection with a new soul. . .there is just no way to express the honor it is to share that experience with a family.

Some days, thankfully they are very few, are not what you would expect them to be.  But they are equally precious.  To hold a parents hand as they say goodbye to their baby they just met. . . even that moment is an honor to share with a family.  Painful, yes, but an honor still to be present and a part of a very special memory of a life that will never be forgotten.

I like to think that people are put where they are meant to be.  That every experience we have was meant for us.  Being a nurse may look like I'm helping others, but most of the time, I'm actually receiving more.  The gifts that parents give to me will far outweigh anything I could ever give to them.  They move me.  They inspire me.  And they give me hope.

I am so lucky to be able to do what I do.

Dear Baby V - thank you for sharing your first day with me.  Holding you like I did your sisters made my heart sing and completed the circle.  You are a blessing to us all.  :-)

A new year, a new beginning, a new blog

I like starting a new year.  It doesn't really matter if you look at the passage of time as linear or circular, the beginning of a new year still feels like starting from scratch.  I wonder if that was the idea all along.  Pulling out a new, empty calendar and deciding how to fill it for the next 12 months is as symbolic as taking down the old, filled calendar and putting it away.

I am more than ready to put 2011 away and move forward.

A few goals (more or less) for this year.
1.  More fun.
2.  Less complaining.
3.  More organization.
4.  Less mess.
5.  More eat in.
6.  Less eat out.
7.  More sleep.
8.  Less worrying.
9.  More time with family.
10. Less time at work.  (not that I dislike work, but you know. . .)
11. More blog.
12. Less Facebook.
13. More reading. (like a real book.  If I don't read Hunger Games, my girls will disown me.)
14. Less emailing.
15. More happy.
16. Less sad.

That should do it. 

Wishing you an extra wonderful 2012.  I'm sure you deserve it!