Just the ramblings of a crazy Mom of two beautiful girls (and YaYa to many children that I adore) navigating through my snafu'd life. This blog is my way of 'clearing the cobwebs' and trying to maintain my sanity.
I have a chaotic life full of kids, rebuilding after our house burnt, coffee, my best girls, mornings in my breezeway, blogging, a full time job, screaming kids, laundry, remodeling, Asperger's/OCD Big'K, mowing, taking the trash out, Bipolar w/psychosis and RAD Lil'K, a crazy family, more kids thrown in the mix, bad plumbing, laughing until I pee my pants, electrical malfunctions, and everything else the Big G thinks He needs to throw at me on this ride we call life, all the while trying to survive being a single mother. Because let's face it...every day that I wake up, I am outnumbered!
Icannot tell you where I was or what I was doing when the clock rolled over to 00:00 and changed the year from 1996 to 1997. I can tell you that at that time that I was under the employment of Uncle Sam.
Waking up early. Running a ton. Learning great stuff about weapons, how much combat boots hurt your feet, and how to apply camo face paint.
I spent a lot of time hanging out at the Navy barracks with my classmates. Sitting outside playing cards or dominoes, and drinking a variety of beverages. During this time I met one sailor in particular. We didn't really get along very well. He was arrogant. Always coming back to the barracks from his martial arts and showing off by doing as many pull ups as he could. With that glance over his shoulder that said 'Uh huh...you know you want some of this'. I couldn't stand him. And apparently I was a bitch. Ehh. Yaknow.
Eventually the arrogant pull up'er and the bitch realized the parts we couldn't stand about each other were really, really attractive. Yeah, don't ask. And honestly, it was the best relationship I have ever had. Ever. There was no jealousy. No fighting. No arguing. It was awesome.
At the end of March I was moving on from Texas to Georgia. Here I was getting ready to move to the east coast of the U.S., leaving someone I cared about. I wasn't too happy about it. When I got into the car to head home I hurled out the window. What?!? Really?!? WTF? Long story short...there was a bun in the oven.
My life changed forever that day. I had my paperwork to go into P.A. school and I was on my way to being a doctor. Needless to say, I wasn't very happy about it. My life was ruined.
Over the years there were good times and bad times. Things weren't always good. But somewhere in all the darkness there were laughs. At the time I didn't want to be a mom...and I'm sure the thought ran through her mind that she wished to have been handed a different parent. Eventually we learned to live with each other. In our little messed up world. Things got better and worse all at the same time. It was hard. I wasn't an affectionate person. And neither was she. Eventually it would come to light that she had Asperger's. (That's another story for another post.) We grew up together. We cried together. We laughed together. We figured it all out together. Eventually we got it. And eventually...I learned to be a mother. And for the first time, since my own mother had passed, I loved.
I had figured out what the phrase 'love of your life' meant. This little creature that I had resented. That I had blamed for so long. That I didn't understand how to take care of or love. That I was afraid of. This little innocent creature...had taught me to love. And the meaning of being loved.
My little creature turned 12 this year on October 24th. In the last 12 years a lot of things have happened to my live. I now have two girls. A job that makes my GI system miserable. My aging dad living with us. And a LOT of grey hair.
All those years ago I never imagined what the long term was. Some women are born to be mothers. Me...not so much. From that first pink plus sign on the pee stick to a pre-teen. It just didn't sink in. I think I'm doing ok. Neither of my girls have injured anyone. At least to the point of hospitalization. And they are both mentally stable. (For the most part) Twelve years ago I did something that I thought would ruin my life. But I see now...it was the best thing I ever accidentally did.
If I had it to do all over again? I just don't know some days. But today...sitting here looking at my 12 yr old sometimes frustrating, always funny, totally Aspie preteen... no. I love it. All of it. Even the bad days. She is growing into a young woman. And eventually that little pink plus sign will grow up enough that it's time to leave my house. That day I will have an aneurysm. But today I have a 12 year old that just started her womanly duty, and she needs my help.
The aneurysm will have to wait.
Happy Birthday Big'K!!! I love you to the moon and back!
I am an adopted child. My birth mother...never met her...know very very little of her. What I do know is that I was adopted by a loving, patient woman who wanted children of her own so much that it ached. I can tell you I was adopted as an infant. Somewhere around the six week mark or so. I can also tell you that I was not a 'bonding' type child. I'm not quite sure I ever did. I was fussy, and had colic like the worst of 'em, even as an infant didn't want to be hugged or touched or loved on. I was a hard child. I don't know how she did it. But I know one thing...she never gave up. By two years I think I would have been disgusted with my own self...but she...never gave up. i wasn't mistreated. I wasn't unloved. Even though I didn't bond she did. And that's all that was needed. I believe even if neither of us would have bonded she still would have loved me. She chose me. She would have done it.
Did I ever bond with her? I don't think so. Not fully. I will never really know. She passed when I was 15. So I don't get to hear the stories of how I was or why she stayed and hung in there. I loved her. She was my mom. Luckily for her she adopted a baby boy three years later and he...he was loving. And bonding. Took the heat off of me. :-)
I have two children of my own. My flesh and blood. And bonding with my oldest was difficult. She was much like me as a child. No touching, no loving, no bonding. I was young and on my way to medical school. So in addition to not bonding I was resentful. (Don't worry it faded and we are all bonded and happy!!) Even as I entertained the idea of giving her up I didn't. And even at her two year mark, and three year mark...even after that long of not bonding...I wouldn't have given her up. Or away. She was mine. I chose her. It was my responsibility to be a mother.
Just a mom of two kids. Big K and Lil K. Who make me loco on a daily basis. I have a ton of other kids that call me 'YaYa'. They are my 'stray cats' as my great aunt refers to them. Once you start feeding them they won't go away...and apparently i'm a great cook!
The things I say will not always make sense. I am funny. I am sarcastic. I am educated. (Sometimes I forget this and the ghettoredneckcoonass comes out. I cannot help it. Hushitup!) I am a smartass. I do not sleep a lot. I may be off color at times. I am also harmless. You may not get my style and that is not my fault. This blog is not meant to be anything other than my thoughts. What I say belongs to me and at the end of the day...it's just words. Get over yourself. If you are offended, go away. You have been warned...