Lucky they're cute...

When I have days like today, well week's like this week...let's be honest here-annd it's only Tuesday, people-I like to see things like this, to remind me that not every day will be this rough.

Here's looking toward tomorrow.

Because I Suck...

Jeez.

I owe you peeps big time.

Is anyone even there anymore???

I don't blame you if you aren't.

So...to just jump headlong in, I'll just pick up right where I am right now.

Busy.

Busy with life. And decisions. And being okay making them or not making them just yet.

I have been flexing my creative muscles and my shutter finger at the same time.

Laughing at the kids singing their versions of that annoying commercial's jingle "I wear no pants...I wwweeee-aaarr no pants"...the girl sings it pretty standard, but the boy? The boy is usually a different story. So, par for the course he sings it "I wear no sweats. I weeeeaaa---rrr no sweats".

I know.

And just now, I heard him saying in a teasing voice to his sister, something about "poop on you" and "baby poop and baby diapers". Who knows? I'm not even going to ask what that was about, as I am pretty sure I don't want to know.

Let the crazy continue.

And I am relishing every moment.

Also...I'll leave you with this image...this is how most days end around here. Covered in band-aids. This one is from a day spent with fellow photog friends at a local park, and the boy, of course, ATE IT. HARD. There was screaming. As usual.

And "mommy's special band aids".

Choices

Lately, I have been processing.
Processing information and realizations with regard to my family of origin.
Processing memories that have reconnected like wires in my brain that were fried and somehow, with hard work and an open mind (and a Higher Power) have mended themselves and electricity flows through them again.

I'm in Decision Land. And I fear that it will be lonely here. I know that making a decision like the one I am faced with will change things. It will change me. And it's been over 30 years coming. I've avoided it at all costs. I've held out hope that things will get better and change and that somehow I am the one that has all the power to make that happen.

My Higher Power seems to have other plans.
And I'm processing that.
And dealing with that.
And decision making.
And..
Seems like a lot of "and"s doesn't it?

I read this morning, after a very therapeutic meeting last night, "...The sense of being trapped is an illusion. We are not controlled by circumstances, our past, the expectations of others, or our unhealthy expectations of ourselves. We can choose what feels right for us, without guilt. We have options...Today I will open my thinking and myself to the choices available to me. I will make choices that are good for me."

While this is all helpful and enlightening, the journey and the choosing aren't made easier. BUT...yes, there is a "BUT"...I can give myself permission to not have all the answers and to take one moment at a time.

So that is what I'm doing...one moment at a time. Learning hard lessons. Lessons that are ripe for the picking. Learning to trust that my "family" and my "family of origin" may not be the same thing. Learning that I have a choice in which family members I associate with and which ones are unhealthy for me to involve in my life. Learning that I have a choice. And learning to choose to be accepting of that.

Life Lesson

This week I needed this.
I needed to read this.
I needed to hear this.
I needed to think about this in a way that I am unaccustomed to.
So I am.
And I'm going to share it with you.

I realize it's been about a month since my last post, and truly my absence has been irritating, even to me. I want to blog, but don't feel that much has been blog worthy or interesting enough to share here. What I would like to remember, is that it only has to be blog worthy and interesting to ME. I am thankful for my readers, commenters, and yes, even lurkers. But in the end, I blog for me; to share my life, to entertain myself and to get things off my chest. The universe is responding.

So I will share with you the item I read last night. Take from it what you will, as always.

From "The Language of Letting Go" by Melody Beattie
Control
Many of us have been trying to keep the whole world in orbit with sheer and forceful application of mental energy.

What happens if we let go, if we stop trying to keep the world orbiting and just let it whirl? It'll keep right on whirling. It'll stay right on track with no help from us. And we'll be free and relaxed enough to enjoy our place on it.

Control is an illusion, especially the kind of control we've been trying to exert. In fact, controlling gives other people, events, and diseases, such as alcoholism, control over us.

Whatever we try to control does have control over us and our life.

I have given this control to many things and people in my life. I have never gotten the results I wanted from controlling or trying to control people. What I received for my efforts is an unmanageable life, whether that unmanageability was inside me or in eternal events.

In recovery, we make a trade-off. We trade a life that we have tried to control, and we receive in return something better - a life that is manageable.

Today, I will exchange a controlled life for one that is manageable.


Have a great week everyone...I intend to learn to let go of what I think I can control a little bit more this week. Progress, not perfection, right?

Wordless Wednesday ~ Easter Morning

Texting, Girl Style

Text between The Girl and me this afternoon, directly after she got out of her first Drill Team practice.

Girl: it was SO fun mom
Me: yay! your dad should be there to pick you up.
Girl: i'm in da car
Me: 'da'. Really? You are not 'hood. Try using 'the'.
Girl: Ur DA bomb
Me: that is the only time 'da' is appropriate.
Girl: ok fun sucker

I am pretty sure she wins this one.
Damn it.

"Aha!" Moment, Captured

While perusing a helpful website, I unexpectedly ran across some "Words of Wisdom".

The last one on the page; the last one I read; for a reason, I imagine, was this:


Expectations are just premeditated resentments.


I went to the site without a conscious reason.
I think I found my reason. I needed to get this message today. I am aware of that, at least.

I'll try to think of expectations in this way, because boy, how often it is true for me is overwhelming.

Exploring

Last year, I started following a television series called Ruby, maybe you've heard of it. Maybe you've watched it. At first it was just inspirational to watch someone attempt to save herself from herself. I thought she had such strength and determination, all while having that slightly annoying Southern ditsy-drama queen thing going for her. (This is not to be taken as an insult to my Southern friends, I have personally had experience with this type of Southern Belle, and this is not to be taken as a blanket statement.) I love Ruby. I love her courage, faith and sense of humor.

Ruby, like myself, is missing chunks of her life in her memory banks. There are many spans of years she can't remember a single thing that happened. So do I. I connected to her on that level until she decided to visit her old school. I didn't understand why. I didn't think it would help, and I was seriously judgemental about her reaction.

That was a year ago.
And an experience ago.

Last weekend, I pointed out my mom's old place to a friend. Then I decided to stop there. This place, seen previously as my mom's old home, became something more for me. I expected to point out the poor decision making that went into this home of theirs, this weird situation I found them in but what I didn't expect was to feel. You see, I never lived there. They moved to this property after I no longer lived at home. I visited. My daughter spent the night. Even I spent the night. It felt a lifetime ago, and in a sense, it was.

I didn't expect to be affected by this place. I thought I was detached from it. I thought that I had no feelings attached to it.
I was wrong.
This place brought back a lot of memories for me. A lot of pain. A lot of anguish. A lot of fear and loneliness I didn't even know I felt at that time. I know now, mostly because I am no longer in that place in my life and honestly I am no longer that girl.

This place suddenly felt less pathetic and more sad to me. Sad that my mother had valid hopes when she established that home. Sad that she is unable to see her repetitive actions. Sad that I keep expecting her to, even when I no longer think I have any expectations of her.

I suppose I get it now, Ruby. I get why you went back to that place. If it affected you in the way revisiting this place did for me, and the memories came flooding back, I can understand why you would want to keep doing it. Keep visiting these places. Keep pushing your memory to...well...remember; to release those memories to you again and trust that you can handle them.

I am curious now. I am curious about the dozens of other places we have lived. I am curious if I could get my memories back if I visited them.

I am curious, scared and exhilarated at the thought.

I get it, and I'm sorry for the judging.

I am there too.

Wordless Wednesday ~ SQUIRREL

Opposites Day

Dear McDonald's Patrons:
In an effort to find the positive in things, and possibly be less catty (for a minute at least, what do you want from me?) I want to take a moment to thank you for a few things. I mean, I REALLY want to give you props.

I want to thank those parents who don't allow their children to come over to the table where my three-year-old is trying desperately to not be distracted. Thank you for teaching your brats to keep their hands to themselves and not take his Happy Meal toy...off his tray...at HIS table...after I have asked them twice not to...while giving you dirty looks.
Thank you.

I would like to thank those parents who realize that ragged footy pajamas are not appropriate at lunch time in Playplace on a six-year-old. (Assuming she is six-years-old is being generous, trust me.)
Thank you.

Also, to expand on that gratitude, I will thank the parents who don't then have their generously-six-year-old girl change into actual clothes in the middle of a Playplace that has a bathroom RIGHT THERE. IN THE PLAYPLACE. While she screams that boys will see her naked, and "please mommy, can we just go in the potty".
Thank you.

I want to thank the parents who don't allow their children to literally walk on the 3" wide window sill behind the booth we are sitting at, who subsequently fall down onto the booth we are sitting at and crying for what feels like several minutes while a stranger consoles them until their mother finally realizes where the wailing is coming from and that it is, indeed, her spawn.
Thank you.

I would like to thank the parents who teach their children not to climb the outside fence of the Playplace. You know, the one that says "do not play on fence". Yes, that one. Thank you.

In addition, it is my pleasure to thank those parents who made today's outing the most eventful and interesting hour of my week. Thank you.

Lastly, but certainly not least, I want to thank the parents who follow through on a playdate they set up with a certain three-year-old boy who gets very upset when he is told for three days that his friend will be having lunch with him in Paradise...er...McDonald's... I would also like to thank that same parent for calling to tell me they will not make it to said playdate. A very special thank you for that.


You know...maybe I just shouldn't have gone out in public today.

Smooches,
Buttercupyaya


P.S. that may have been less catty, but the snark? I will always give you a bit o' the snark! You're welcome.