12 things I learned from my mom

Today I woke up to the news of a friend’s mother passing. They were very close and I cannot even imagine the pain that she’s feeling. I can’t help but fear how will I handle that loss. This made me realize that I need to tell my mother how I feel about her.  Not how much she drives me nuts and annoys the hell out of me sometimes. I need to tell her the amazing things that I see in her, the amazing things that she taught me and how grateful I am to have her as my mother.

  1. You’re always there for family, no matter what. 

Growing up my family was very chaotic and dysfunctional but one thing was always for sure, no matter how angry you were at each other when trauma or hardship fell on a family member my mom threw it all aside and was there, even if it was her worst enemy. No matter how crazy my mom’s sisters are, that’s one amazing thing about them. 

  2. Her never-ending ability to be there for me and my kids.

I was 18 years old, alone and single, pregnant with twins. My mother was my Lamaze coach, bought me nearly everything I needed for my babies, and stood next to me during delivery. Five years later I was pregnant with my son, again alone from a failed marriage. My mom’s husband’s uncle had committed suicide, and he was like a father to her husband. The next day I went into labor, my mom came rushing and stayed with me, held my hand and fought the doctors to keep me safe. She helped raise my kids when they were young, giving me the needed breaks for my sanity. She was a cheer leader at their school and sports events. She is the best grammy, devoted and loving. 

  3. Strength.

My mom is the strongest woman I know, both physically and mentally. My mom has lost everything and stood strong and rose from the ashes, dusted herself off and was ready for more. She proved a woman can do anything a man can. She taught me to never depend on a man or anyone else. To be independent and strong. 

   4. No matter how hard it gets, you are mom.

I’m sure my mom had many days she wanted to run away, abandon all the responsibilities of raising kids and live a different stress free life. It’s hard work and too many times you feel unappreciated. You’re always on duty and your life revolves around what the kids need. You want new shoes? Too bad, kids need them first. My mom taught me to sacrafice my wants for my children, that they come first. And you work as hard as you can to give them a safe and good life.

 

 5. Even moms get weak and that is okay.

All the stressors of life gets heavy, even for a super-mom’s shoulders. The load sometimes becomes too much to bare and you fall. You get off track, you get a little selfish and want to put yourself first for a change. This is normal. It’s okay to fall. It’s even okay if you need a little pill every day from your doctor to help deal with the stress, as long as you get back up. You cannot stay down. You must regroup and get back to doing what needs to be done. No if, ands, or butts.

   6. Home-cooked meals are the best.

There is absolutely nothing like a home cooked meal made by my mom. Even as an adult I think my mom’s food is better than mine. It’s the love and memories from all the years she created full course delicious meals on a very limited budget while running on fumes. Everyone sat down to eat and chatted about their day, together. It kept us close.

   7. Have respect for what you have.

My mom came from a poor family. Her father’s parents came to the United States as immigrants from Croatia. Her mother grew up right here in South Omaha on 13th Street. They had 7 daughters in a very small home and it was normal for my grandmother to take in neighbor kids or relatives who were in need. While they didn’t have much money, they appreciated what they had. The small home was well kept and always clean. Growing up my mom was this way as well. We didn’t have much money but anyone on the outside was always impressed with our immaculate yard and home. Laundry & dishes done daily, vacumming and sweeping. No one came to our house messy, ever. 

Once my sister spilled red kool-aid on our new cream colored carpet in the living room. Quickly she tried to clean with bleach to remove the stain before our mom had a chance to see it. Long story short we all had to spend a whole weekend bleaching that carpet to match that stain, with windows open and gasping for air. My mom was raised to respect and take care of what she had, to take pride in yourself, your home and your family.
 

 
   8. The kids are a reflection of the parents. 

As kids, we were always clean and had nice clothes. Me and my sister’s hair was always braided or in pig-tails. We were taught respect and manners. It was obvious my mom worked hard at being a mom like she had with the many stories she shared about her childhood. She took pride in that and made sure to carry on those values with her children.

  

   9. Work hard.

My mom always worked too much. Probably 60 hours a week or more, whether it was with one job or spread out with two or three. She strived to have nice things but knew the value of hard work. My mom was never afraid to get her hands dirty. Whether she cleaned apartments for side money, or took on projects like a rental house deal, she never cut corners and always cleaned everything so it was fit for a king. And she never let the long hours at work affect her home. That woman would run on just a few hours of sleep. She never slept through the night, she would get up to switch the laundry over and fold the finished load through the night.  I’m sure it would have been easier to cut herself some slack, but she never did.

   10. Most importantly she taught me the importance of tradition. 

The Easter Bunny and Easter egg hunts

Santa Claus 

The tooth fairy

Holiday dinners with close family and friends

Family vacations

It was not uncommon for a last minute invite from my mom to one of our holiday dinners. If she found out that someone she knew had no plans for the holiday my mom instantly opened our home so that person would not be alone. My mom would stay up all night baking pies, up at the crack of dawn to start the turkey, everything from scratch, everything amazing. When I hear of other families memories, I think yours could not compare to my mine. When I come across somebody whose family does not celebrate; on one hand (now that I’m the parent hosting these dinners) there’s a bit of me that feels jealous. Like that would be so nice to just sit home and relax on that day off. But if they have small kids, if they have little children, my heart breaks. The loss of those memories those kids are missing out on makes me sad. 

    11. Be silly, be you and laugh

I love my mother’s laugh. It’s contagious. She’s comfortable with who she is and doesn’t worry about what others think. She is who she is and I love that. She taught me to love myself and not give a shit what other people think. 

   12. Sometimes be impulsive

When you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, it’s easy to forget how to have fun. You get stuck focusing on all the responsibilities you have, bills that are due, groceries to buy, appointments to make. You forget to live life. Sometimes you need to buy yourself those shoes, or do something crazy like get a tattoo. Sometimes be spur of the moment. 

   I’m so very grateful for my mother. She taught me so many wonderful things about being a strong person and a wonderful mother. Because of her I have raised great kids who are thoughtful, loving and kind. She taught me to believe in myself, to value who I am and to be proud of what I’ve accomplished. On a rough day at work I can hear her telling me how smart I am and how impressed she is with me. That helps me regroup and get back to being my fierce self. She reminds me to know my worth and never settle. She has become my voice of reason when my frustrations cloud my emotions. I could not be who I am without her.

Mom, thank you for being you. 

Total bad ass

Dude….that’s my mom – http://wp.me/p271pb-3T

Feeling blessed

Today was a typical Sunday. I did laundry, we took a mid-day nap, we made dinner together, we ate together and teased each other, I did the dishes while my daughter ran to get us ice cream. I finished up some chores and we ate ice cream then my daughter shaved our family cat. Towards the end she needed help holding him. She hated to ask me, you see I’m allergic of cats. Quickly she finished then told me to go shower while she cleaned the mess. Once I finished, concerned she asked if I was okay. Normally I am sneezing, eyes burning, crying for benedryl. I don’t know why but that meant so much to me, her concerned if I was okay. 

I adore my kids.They remind me all the time how much I’ve taught them, how much respect they have for me. They make me proud of my life. 

Still growing



My mind is complicated chaos

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I’m lost and empty. I’m guarded and blocked. I’m afraid of any more pain so I hide and avoid living. I am a very fragile person, yet fiercely strong and independent. Complicated chaos.

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Normally when I feel like this, my words flow yet I’m sitting here blank. I have spent the last week drowning myself in quotes from pinterest, hoping something will turn my outlet back on. Looking for my light-switch. Searching for my mind. My heart, mind and soul is so utterly confused and blocked.

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I miss my friend. He wants more than my heart can handle so I took a step back. To breathe, to evaluate myself, and keep things in my comfort zone. To stay protected from the complication that comes with relationships, the pressures, the disappointments, the failures. I’m not ready, I’m terrified. I may never be ready. It’s possible I will stay guarded forever. He’s human with a heart fully invested while mine is still padlocked behind steel doors. He’s broken at the idea that it may never be “us”. He’s hurting, trying to cope and I’m selfish because I just want my friend back. I want the blunt sarcasm. I want the light hearted conversation and the inside jokes we carry.

But I don’t want the pressure of dealing with parenting issues with the ex when there is so much disagreement, bitterness and hidden resentment. Raising kids together when you’re both on different sides, arguing over the expenses and how the kids should be raised. Speaking negatively of the other. That hits too close to home for me, triggering memories and definitely not what he said I was walking into. I literally play a movie in my head of the arguments, tears, frustration, expense and requirements of xanax to cope with co-parenting small kids again. The thought cripples me. He sees me as this amazing mom who raised her kids alone and sacrificed everything, put her kids above all, financially and emotionally provided everything they needed. I did things with my kids that apparently not every mom does-I spent time with them, I enjoyed them, I did activities with them..I colored with them, we painted, created art, cooked, I read to them and with them. I devoted my life to them. I solely supported my family, paid for daycare and sports, clubs, activities completely by myself. I was a supermom, but it almost killed me.

My heart was broken by life, the struggles, the fighting for my kids. And I fucked up a lot too which left this darkness of guilt inside me. The stress of living that life was too much for my fragile mind. I had mental breakdowns in front of my kids. They sometimes had to scrape me off the floor from anxiety attacks and calm me down so I could breathe. I fought with their dads in front of them, screaming matches because I had a fight in me as big as the world and I never backed down. I would become enraged by my ex-husband’s disappearing acts for the bar, cheating, drinking and gambling. When I spoke my mind to him, his reaction was awful and usually ended in a physical fight and when I was in those moments I never stopped to notice that my kids were watching, I didn’t care. I was depressed, anxious, stressed, overwhelmed, and usually medicated to stay afloat. I’m traumatized by the battles with their dad and his then wife, they were a different kind of cruel. Maybe they killed that fight in me. I waved the white flag and surrendered to their evilness. It wasn’t until recently that I realized how deep those wounds are and how truly scarred my heart is. Maybe I’m too afraid to get back in the ring of life, even if I want to.

If someone can’t come in and give me complete trust that they will not bring any negative energy in my life, I will walk. I’ve been used, abused and taken advantage of so I learned to do for myself and on my own. Less drama that way. Yes it’s lonely, but it’s not scary.

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Life lessons #3232016

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Frustrations of being human

 

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My son, I love him dearly, but oh.my.god…can that kid drive me to my limits. My day consisted with kind of a crummy work day, then going to Walmart to pick up groceries for our Thanksgiving dinner. While shopping my son’s teacher called, a 20 minute conversation was had standing by the frozen turkeys. My son just decided he didn’t want to participate today, no work was completed for 6 periods. He wasn’t combative which sadly is good news. I spend my $150 in the self check-out. Come home to him in his “mood”.

Long story short, my son was upset his teacher embarrassed him in front of the whole class. He’s yelling and let me tell you, this kid has some lungs, and it pushes my limits. My daughter decides this is the time to inform him he was being selfish two days ago when he ate the last package of cinnamon rolls. So here I am, trying to discuss school and listening to them argue over fucking cinnamon rolls, both yelling over the other.

Finally my son and I get to discuss his day, his version. Sounds to me his lack of attention and honestly, I feel, his lack of respect has pushed his second period teacher to her limits. I listen respectfully and calmly explain “hey bud, do you think it’s possible when you have to be constantly redirected because of your lack of focus, do you think it’s possible that in a class of twenty something kids and the teacher who has a plan set by the school district how much work she is “REQUIRED” to teach all these kids for 9 periods a day, and that doesn’t allot her extra time to constantly redirect you or pull you aside for a lengthy explanation of how your actions appear disrespectful to her and the whole class…do you think it’s possible in her day she can, I don’t know, become human and get frustrated with you? Lose her patience?” Mind you while I said this, I had to snap my fingers a minimum of three times, and tell him no I will not let you speak yet at least two times. Sigh.. he is exhausting.

The night moved forward. Then Ryan begins to tell me how he was then yelled at after school because he was startled and did his extremely high pitched scream in someones face who then yelled at him to “knock of that god damn girly shit”. Sigh… big sigh… I’m expected to address each and every person who doesn’t have the ability to calmly explain in detail with compassion and honestly, I’m exhausted. Did I do this? Did I cause his thinking the world has to tip toe around his feelings?

Then I’m cleaning my house preparing for a big Thanksgiving feast and my mom visiting, that’s stressful, my mom! I always want things perfect for her, even though I can’t compare to hers, I want her to know I try, that she taught me what’s important. I must have told my son a minimum of twelve times tonight to lower his voice, stop yelling. I use hand gestures to remind him, I give him the look that says “Dude! Enough!”. I am calm and patient at 5 pm… even 6 pm.. but by 7:30 when I’ve had him purposely scream like a girl terrified on a roller coaster in my face, I’ve had enough. I’m now yelling at him, firmly. Even popping him in the mouth with the reminder “I’ve asked you how many times to stop yelling!?”. In the end, I kick him out of the living room which took at least twenty minutes to make him go, and he’s in tears might I add. And I’m sitting here pissed and feeling guilty.

In 3 hours I managed to turn his shitty “I don’t want anyone here for thanksgiving! I hate school and I hate my life and I don’t want to see anyone!” to cheering up and being back to his goofy self and laughing…. to sending him to his room in tears. And I’m sitting here blogging my frustrations to avoid going in my room and popping a xanax. I am afterall, human. Extremely amazing and strong, but still human.

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