Revelations

I think the truth of how you feel about your looks is revealed when you have children. Though I didn't realized it at first since when our oldest was born, we thought, "Where did she come from? She doesn't look like either of us." But as she grew from a tiny, shapeless infant into a cuddly, round baby, her features became more defined. She has her daddy's mouth and eyes, but my skin color and hair color. I was surprised that noticing those attributes brought such strong memories to the surface. I remember being young and feeling angry with my mom for passing on the albino gene. I've never been able to tan. Freckles, sure; sunburns, often. I used to wish I had been born in the Victorian era when pale was "in". Until I realized I couldn't have survived without indoor plumbing. And really, I was lucky to be a teen in the 80's when big hair was stylish because until the miraculous invention of the Chi, I had no choice but big.

Though S has beautiful strawberry-blonde hair and creamy skin and gets lots of compliments now, the day will come when she'll be surrounded by kids who are tan and ask her if she ever gets to go outside. And even though everyone knows the sun is damaging, and the experts tell everyone NOT to get enough exposure to be tan, S will rue her genetics. But my hope is that she will someday be able to forgive me for that as I've come to forgive my mom. Though I don't love my freakishly white skin, it doesn't bother me like it used to. I've gotten to where I can laugh about it.

The same is not true for all my attributes that I feel less than fondly about. Fast forward a couple of years to when Baby R was born. She was clearly, from Day 1, my child. She looked just like my dad. Just like me. One of my best friends came to see us in the hospital and said exactly that and followed it up with, "She has your nose!" He meant it in a sweet way. But it marred my ideal view of our perfect child. I wanted to yell, "No, she doesn't!" I have always hated my nose. I broke it when I fell out of the top bunk when I was 3. It's been something I've been self-conscious of since. That one comment sent my mind on a rapid replay of a life's worth of self-rejection because I was uncomfortable with my looks. And my heart broke to think my sweet baby girl would have to relive that. Of course, it may have been the postpartum hormones kicking in, too.

Now that Baby R is a year old, I see her beautiful face and radiant smile and think to myself, she's gorgeous! What am I worried about? And then I realize, if she's gorgeous, and she looks like me, then that means I must be gorgeous, too. That's a tough concept to embrace this far along in life. I've posted before about learning to be comfortable in my (pale) skin, mainly to teach my children to be confident in their appearance. It's a struggle, but one I'm trying to win every day.

Lines

The teal wax oozes beyond the black ink that's stamped in its confining shape. I know I'm supposed to teach her to be mindful of those boundaries, but I can't.

I'm a rule-follower. It took a long time for the creativity in me to be unleashed because it was stifled by directives to stay in the lines. Of course I want her to be orderly and mindful and courteous, but I also want her to question authority and go where her heart and mind lead her, splashing paint and jumping in puddles and straying from the path to find her own way. It's a fine line to walk in parenting.

I am the oldest, a people-pleaser. I see so much of myself in her. She's still young enough that she's not yet afraid to ask the hard questions or do her own thing, like wear mismatched clothes. She's not afraid of what her peers think, and I make a concerted effort not to impose restrictions on her creativity. I want to preserve that independent spirit while helping her conform to the values we uphold - societal norms for safety as well as morals that have gone by the mainstream's wayside.

She'll learn soon enough that she's expected to color within the lines. For now, I'm just going to keep encouraging her to create how she sees fit.

Trapped

Thank God I'm not stuck in a small space. Not like I could do what my dad does. He got trapped in an elevator once, so to deal with his claustrophobia? He took a nap. Ha! I haven't been able to fall asleep on my own in years. Dammit, I hadn't thought of that til now! Need to start carrying my Lunesta around with me. Good thing I ended up at a Walmart in Missouri where they sell alcohol. Pfft! Never would have expected to hear that phrase from me. "Walmart" and "Missouri" are usually mutually exclusive from "good" in my book. Hell, I consider them downright evil on most days. Not sure I can feel that lucky about being stuck with the kinds of customers that entails, though. Should've kept driving. No, that would've just left me to freeze to death in the white-out. Guess that's looking on the positive side of my post-pregnancy bladder being so small I can't make it 100 miles without stopping. At least I didn't have to stop at one of the adult bookstores this time. Had to do that once. Clearly a squatting-only place, even more so than a bar. How pathetic is it that half the exits off I-70 across this God-forsaken state have only those and gas stations? Ugh. Reason #827 I would never move to "Mis-ery."

Thank you, Jesus, for vodka. Couldn't have gotten even those couple hours of sleep without it. Partly because of my insomnia, but mostly because these hicks keep trying to talk to me. Do I look like I speak white-trash? Please. Which is why I don't feel the least bit bad about snagging the Smirnoff. I'll pay for it later. Not like it was Grey Goose.

Ugh, the stench has started. And now that they're shutting down power at night, it's getting a little scary. Locked myself in a stall in the bathroom for safety's sake. Realized we were going to be stuck more than a couple of days overnight, and all I could think of was the horror stories of rapes and robberies at the Superdome after Katrina. Wasn't going to let Jim Bob and his brother, Darryl and his other brother, Darryl close enough to me to exchange words, much less touch me. Upside is I've taken some photos to upload to PeopleOfWalmart.com when I get home. Which should be tomorrow. Supposed to get a break in the snow today. Plows will be able to get a start anyway.

I know they're just babies and can't help it, but someone PLEASE make them shut the hell up! It's like reliving giving birth and being in the hospital. Hearing all those babies crying. Except my Emma. Never a sound. I knew before then, of course. A mother knows these things. Though I guess technically I was never a mother. Just can't think from all the noise. Need a drink. Should wait til lights out to get more vodka from my stash; don't want to risk someone finding it. When the manager locked all the food and firearms in the break room and his office so he could ration it, I followed suit and got most of the vodka before the rest of the trailer-trash figured out what was going on. Most people were more worried about their families than themselves. Guess I finally found the benefit to being solo. I'd be worried, too. It's not looking good. Can't believe the snow only stopped for thirty minutes.

Wishing I'd watched more "Survivorman". We're almost out of food. There are about 165 people in this damn place. Luckily I'm used to drinking my dinner. Been giving some girl my nighttime ration. Looks about the same age I was when I got knocked up. She'll be due around the same time I was, too. But doesn't sound like she's married. Parents kicked her out. A loner like me. For another couple of months anyway.

If we ever get out of here.

This post was inspired by the prompt "You are trapped (alone or with others) in a single location during the fury and/or aftermath of a blizzard of historic proportions." Constructive criticism welcome.

Kids Are So Gross

While I'm kind of "on a break," I thought I'd bust out some old posts, some from here and some from BlogHer. This one I posted on BlogHer a few months ago. Enjoy!

I adore my kids. I love being a mom. And most of the gross things I thought I wouldn't be able to handle before I had them really don't bother me, like snotty noses and slobbery kisses. But when it comes to food, there are times I can hardly keep my stomach from churning.

Our 10-month-old for example. She's all about drinking from a cup right now. I put about a tablespoon of water in it and help her tip it up. She squeals with joy when I bring it towards her open mouth, and then she bites the edge with all the might she can muster from the two chicklets in her bottom gum. She makes an "ah" sound into the cavern, enjoying the noise. Inevitably, she's able to wrest it from my grasp and manages to spill a little (or a lot) all over herself.

Were it just the water, it would be downright adorable. Oh, but it's not just water all over her face, arms and hands. No. It's sticky cantaloupe juice, pieces of green beans and chunks of oatmeal which oftentimes ends up in her hair as well. It's like a baby mud mask, and when she has a cold, like today, it's crusted to her face with a layer of snot. I take a wet washcloth to the little cherub and scrub away. Once her face is as clean as I can get it in the 30 seconds I have before she's twisted away and started screaming bloody murder, I wipe down her soft, doughy arms and hands and do my best to get everything out from the sweet rolls and between her chubby fingers. Thank goodness she so stinkin' cute.

Moving on to the 3-year-old. I really focus on the positive with her eating habits. She's a really good eater at this point. She likes most foods and is still willing to try a lot of new ones. I was such a picky eater, I was worried she would be, too. And that may change, but for now, I'm counting my blessings. Except when I'm counting to ten and holding my breath so I don't gag from the mix of ketchup, mustard, mayo, Ranch and barbecue sauce she's made and is now dipping into with anything as reasonable as a chicken nugget to as bizarre as a chocolate chip cookie.

Or when she's eating meat.

Oddly enough, she wasn't born a big fan of meat, but has become quite a carnivore in the last six months. She LOVES her daddy's ribs. She's like a cartoon character putting the whole thing in her mouth and stripping it clean. And when he smokes chicken thighs, she peels the skin off and eats it. Or like tonight when we had grilled pork chops and I had cut all the fat off of mine and she gobbled those pieces up. I had to walk away from the table for a minute.

But just when I think I can't take another gross moment at the dinner table, she'll do something incredibly sweet, like thank me for making her favorite food or washing her favorite dish. And there's no amount of Fear Factor-esque events that could possibly discount her smile in those moments. I'm so thankful they're mine.

Update

Well, I thought I would be including my next installment of the Red Dress Club today, but unfortunately, life got in the way! :) I am going to try to keep posting a few times a week, but things may slow down here for a bit. For one thing, we're going to St. Louis this weekend to visit my sister. But that's just temporary, of course. The bigger issue is that Mom's memory problems seem to be intensifying. It's causing times of paranoia. My dad is trying hard to be patient with her, but he's worried, and he's a man, so his way to react is by being a butt head. To be fair, though, in the last few weeks Dad found out he's probably going to have to have a Pacemaker put in, he got laid off again, has been having trouble getting unemployment set up and his car died. Babysitting the kids tests his patience when things are running smoothly, but right now it's too much for him.

So we could really use some prayers right now. For my parents, mostly. Dad is really struggling to keep it together. I'm afraid he's going to have another heart attack from the stress. And for Mom because I think she's scared and worried and stressed, too. Also for our kids. They have seen Dad lose his temper a couple of times in the past week, and it's been pretty ugly. And for DH and me to figure out what to do. The girls are finally adjusted to their new schedules and care providers, and I really don't want to move them to another place, but our current provider can't take them full-time. Plus it's expensive to switch them to full-time. I'm looking for support groups for Dad to help him deal with Mom, and I'm going to see if I can adjust my hours at work some to limit the time Mom and Dad watch the girls, temporarily.


Anyway, all that to say that though I love my blog, it's going to have to take a back seat for awhile til we get things sorted out. I will probably sacrifice tweeting to stay up on it, so I will miss you all in that respect, but hope to be back soon!

Ten Things I Believe

Today's Working Mommy Wednesday prompt was to list 10 Things I Believe. After getting the "I believe in Crystal Light, 'cause I believe in me!" jingle out of my head, I was surprised how quickly these flowed. I usually hem and haw over a list because I want to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. But I'm going with my gut on this one, and leaving it as is. Curious to see what others chose!

1. I believe Jesus Christ is the son of God, was crucified for my sins, died and rose on the third day and sits at the right hand of God.
2. I believe I am more than the sum of my parts.
3. I believe that even though my mother is losing her memory and may even someday forget me entirely, she loves me with all her heart, the way only a mother could.
4. I believe that if I were put in a position where I needed super-human strength to save my children, I could complete the task as if it was a simple as snapping my fingers.
5. I believe some wounds never entirely heal, but the scars can help define your character for the better.
6. I believe in the power of love, chosen love, to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles.
7. I believe that school's main function is to teach you how to learn, and once you know that, the world is your classroom; it's up to you to take advantage of it.
8. I believe children keep you young, whether they are yours or someone else's, through their innocence and curiosity.
9. I believe laughter is the best medicine, especially when joined by your babies, your husband, your siblings, your parents, or your best girlfriends.
10. I believe I am blessed beyond measure and will never fully appreciate my good fortune.

A Big Day

It's a big day here at Midwest "Mom"ments. Drum roll please.... I've received my first award! (thunderous applause) Thank you, thank you. No, you're too kind. No really. STOP.

Ahem.

Anyway, I really am surprised, so I have no speech prepared. I want to thank Kristy of Pampers and Pinot for bestowing this award on me. We met through The Red Dress Club. So glad I finally joined that group! I've discovered so many great blogs like Kristy's. I need to update my blog roll!

And apparently, there are rules to this award, so I better get to it. I'm supposed to list seven facts about myself. As you know, I pretty much put it all out there, so the usual ones are kind of a moot point. (wife, mother, clumsy, sarcastic, tired, creative, writer) I decided to list my top 7 favorite vacation destinations.

1. Maui, HI
2. Shannon, IRE
3. Frisco, CO
4. New York, NY
5. Hong Kong, CN (Technically I was there for business not pleasure, but I did a fair amount of sightseeing. More than I've done in Chicago, which is why even though I've been there half a dozen times, it's still on my list of places to visit because I've never really seen anything there aside from the airport and meeting rooms.)
6. San Francisco, CA
7. Memphis, TN

The second part of the rules is that I have to pass it on to 15 others. So here are the lucky recipients!

Mommy of a Monster
A Belle, A Bean and a Chicago Dog
In Pursuit of Martha Points
Taming Insanity
Crunchy Betty
On The Rocks and Straight Up
Old Tweener
Four Plus an Angel
Honest (Mostly) Conversations About Life, Real and Surreal
Go, Pop, Go!
Work, Wife, Mom... Life!
The Writer Revived
Late Enough
Mommypants
In These Small Moments

Thank you all for your blogs and Tweets!