Thursday, November 5, 2009

Wednesday's child is full of woe..

I have always been aware of my odd sensitivity. Odd, because, I am a very emotional person. I used to cry at the drop of a hat. The hat being something that has caused me pain, or made me angry, but sadness has rarely brought a tear to my eye. I mean, I cannot muster up one drop, not one.

Death? Unless it is someone whom I am very close to, which has only happened twice in my life, I feel very little. Most of my pain and angst comes from the loss that loved ones suffer, not the actual loss of the person. Who is so cold? So cold to not cry at the loss of human life. I agree, that it is terribly sad, and I empathize with the sadness, but I can not mirror it.

When, earlier this week, my family received horrible news about one of our dear one's cancer prognosis, I was a statue. I was the person that received all the phone calls begging, through distraught, frantic voices, for Google to provide an alternative treatment, or a better prognosis. I was the strong one, it seemed, who could read all of the statistics and facts, and remain composed. On the surface, I looked strong, but really, I was emotionless. Not because I didn't care, but because, well... I am not sure why. That is the answer I am looking for. I do care, very much so, and have a very tender heart that hurts for everyone who suffers, and doing all I can to help anyone that I can. So what is my deal?

Also, on the very same day, my family was subject to even more news, that made even a strong man cry. I sat, smiling, saying, "Everything happens for a reason. It will all be okay. God doesn't mislead us." I can honestly say that I did not feel one ounce of worry that night, but feel that my faith and trust in God was the biggest reason for that.

As I have posted before, nothing "looms" for me, as a general rule. They simply arrive. I do not worry about what is out of my hands. The way I look at it, if it seems like an impossible situation, the only thing you can do, is the next thing. One thing at a time. I never look ahead, and never look at long term scenarios. I do, however, experience frequent anxiety attacks. I can't explain why, or what exactly brings them on, but it seems that every day for two weeks, I can't breath, and my world is spinning wildly out of control all around me, when in fact, these times are when things are perfectly fine. As normal as could be. Maybe all this is the answer.

I don't grieve over the end of someone's suffering. Why would you? What I do grieve for is the suffering that others go through because of the loss. I don't stress about things that are out of my hands, things that I can do nothing about, because what good would that do?

I am sad tonight, however, because I don't have tears to cry, when I really would like to express the emotions that I feel. But, I just don't see any appropriate behavior for an emotion that is specific, and unique, to only me.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

"For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." Jeremiah 29:11-13

Sunday, November 1, 2009

nospaceordelete....

justdroppingintosaythatiwillnotbepostinganytingofmuchsubstanceforawhile.mycomputerhadarun-inwiththerain,andnowthespacebaranddeletebuttonsnolongerwork.incaseyouuhaven'tnoticed.hopefullyit itwillletmepostsomehalloweenpictures.hopeeveryonehasahappynovember!

Monday, October 19, 2009

Is it just MY kids?

Please, PUH-LEASE, tell me... are my kids the only ones who...

...play with poop? Fingerpainting walls, furniture, and bodies counts as playing, right? Right. Right?

...climb to the highest "peak" in their rooms, in order to give me a heart attack, like, say, their top dresser drawer?

...come screaming everytime there is a commercial, because "Moxie Girls [or any other commercialized item] is my life, Mom. My life will be over without one." My refusal to come darting through the house to view the 16983756th commercial of the day results in an Academy Award performance, staring Reese Silver as the young child dying a slow, painful death due to the fact she may or may not be receiving another Moxie girl, cupcake maker, Snuggie, Bump-It, Slap-Chop, Shark Mop, or a one year subscription to Men's Health. "I want this, I want this! Mom, I NEEEED this. I really just HAVE to have one and you are theworstmotherinthewholewoooooorld. I am not your best friend anymore, and I will never be your best friend anymore and you can eat at the table by yourself because I am not your best friend. Hey, Mom, Hurry, Look! I want this! I need this! ...." It's an endless cycle.

...only look sweet and innocent in pictures, while sleeping, and in pictures while sleeping?

...find new and exciting ways to covertly pester each other daily? Like digging their big toe into their brother's side during the one five second time period of the day where he is voluntarily still. Or getting one, single piece of their sister's hair in between their toes and pulling it ever so slowly?

...still not even halfway potty trained at three years old? (Refer to "playing with poop" above.)

...shred and eat every piece of paper they can find. Ensuring that it is evenly strewn about so that clean up will take as much time as possible? I mean, we love books at our house. My kids would starve without em!

...takes every toy possible apart and manages to assemble it into a weapon?

... take whatever food they have decided not to eat (because, according to Reese, it is "poisont") and make sure that there are traces of it in every room of the house, all this without leaving the table somehow?

Please, pretty pretty please, tell me it's not just MY kids...

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

My Mama

In response to my "pity party" post, a wise woman left this comment:

Pink – You’re favorite color is pink.

You like dark eye shadow colors (charcoals & browns) and a little glossy color on your lips.
You like to color your hair a dark auburn in fall and winter.
You love opportunities to dress up for holidays and formal parties.
In the summer you like to wear a tank top and short skirt with sandals. You love to go camping, playing in the river and kayaking.
You like to draw pictures using charcoal pencils.

I think we all lose ourselves at some point in time. Whether its to our kids and spouse because you get so caught up in the hectic daily routines, a career where your so involved you can’t separate your personal life from work, or a relationship where you are so infatuated by that person you eat and breath every minute of their life that you lose your own. The good thing is eventually most people find their self and discover they have a renewed understanding of life.

My darling little girl, as far as you being lost or gone… You’re not gone you’re just letting your children borrow pieces of you for a while (Reese with your imagination, Tyson with your compassion, Ramsey with your smile and charm). When the time is right you’ll get all the pieces back.
As for me I still see my beautiful daughter under all that wonderful motherhood.

I love you, Mom (who by the way has been lost a “few” times)

And I wonder where I got the compassion from? I love you, too, Mama. You don't know what your words did for me today. So, I am off to wash my hair, don a little make-up, and yes, I will dig out the long lost eyeshadow... and head to the grocery store. Rome wasn't built in a day, I suppose.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

The heebadajeebies

This is disturbing, to say the least. About 3 weeks ago, I had a box of infant's oatmeal in a box. It was nearly empty, so to free up some cabinet space, I poured what was left into a Ziplock bag. Today, I opened the bread box where I had stored the bag, to find this...




That, my friends, are about 50 bugs in a completely sealed, hole-free bag. Yes, I triple checked. This leads me to only one conclusion: The bugs had laid their eggs in the oatmeal before I put it in the bag, meaning I fed my poor Ramsey bug larva at least one time.

Moral of the story: put everything in the fridge or a bag the minute after you open it. Ew.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Welcome to my pity party.

I was born in July 1983 on Ft. Bragg army base Micah Nicole Frizzell. Five years ago, I became Micah Nicole Silver. Shortly after, I became a Mama, as well. Today? Today I am just Mama. Micah is no longer here. I haven't seen her in so long, I can't remember what she looks like, or even her favorite color.

Seems as though she has moved out completely. I am not even in contact with anyone who new her. Luke remembers her a bit, but he has been here throughout her "moving out" process, to the point where it is hard for him to distinguish her from me. My children have caught glimpses of her dancing in the kitchen to some Journey, but they only give her crazy looks.

I know that when we become parents, we change. Our lives are turned upside down, and everything about our lives as we knew it change. But are mothers supposed to take our place and abduct our souls and our spirits? After Reese, I still knew who I was. After Tyson, I still had a favorite color, though I can't remember what it was now. But today? I don't know who I am.

I cook what Luke and the kids like to eat. I eat a few handfuls of chips for supper. I watch Dora and Handy Manny all day, and football and the Ultimate Fighter by night. I force myself to stay up until 1 or 2am just to squeeze in some semblance of "me" time.

The last time I went out and did something that "normal" women do was over two years ago. I have not had my hair trimmed since January 31st. The only time I have been anywhere alone, was the occasional trip to the grocery store.

Don't get me wrong. Luke and I get a date night about once a month, where we go eat, maybe a movie, and pick the kids up after about 3 hours. I have not had a glass of wine since Easter. That was just so that I could deal with the chaos of family get togethers.

Even if I had a day. One day. A few hours. Where I could do whatever I wanted to do, I don't have the first idea of what I would do with my time. I don't remember what I like to do. I could get a haircut for starters. But then what?

I have lost myself. I feel like Julia Robert's character in Runaway Bride, where she likes her eggs cooked however her man at the time likes theirs cooked. She conformed to what she thought they wanted her to be. I'm not saying that Luke wants me to eat omelets, because I do know that I prefer scrambled eggs... I am just saying that my life is not mine at all anymore.

I cook.
I clean.
I wipe dirty faces.
I change stinky diapers.
I bathe sticky babies.
I go to bed at 1am, falling asleep wondering what I will cook for supper tomorrow night.
I wake up at 3am, worried that I forgot to pay a bill.

Where did I go?

I know that I have been blessed with the best job in the world. A loving husband, and healthy children. Don't get that twisted (as Reese would say). I am just wondering...

Who is this person, and what did she do with Micah?