Time to feel

Today is Good Friday. The day in the Christian calendar to reflect upon an ultimate sacrifice. And in a few days, we will celebrate the joy of Easter.

My heart is heavy this week from too many personal tragedies among friends. Babies dying before opening their eyes to the light of day. A child battling the effects of chemotherapy. Moms trying to find the strength to overcome their own health issues. Elderly loved ones nearing the end of their lives.

I struggle to understand. My trust waivers, but I stand strong. I focus on my own blessings and give thanks. Through the long Easter weekend (maybe longer), I am going to step away. I need some time to hurt for my friends and laugh with my child. I need time to relax. A few days to unplug.

I will be back when I can write with energy again. And share more tales of the joys in life.
 

Nothing compared

1990 was a year of change and discovery in the world. Mikhail Gorbachev was elected the first president of the Soviet Union. The Hubble space telescope was launched. The Gulf War began. Ireland elected their first female president. The best preserved T-Rex specimen ever found was discovered in South Dakota.

I was in middle school. Teachers discussed world events with passion and interest. I listened and learned, enough to get my As and Bs. My mind and heart, however, were elsewhere.

The boy I "loved" just wasn't interested in me.

One of the top 5 hits of 1990 was Sinead O'Connor's Nothing Compares To You. Her drastic shaved head got everyone's attention. And for me, her battered and bruised soul was a reflection of my dramatic rejection.

 It's been seven hours and fifteen days 
Since you took your love away
(You danced with me two weeks ago at a party and never asked me to "go" with you)

I go out every night and sleep all day
Since you took your love away
(I go out when my parents say I can and I wake when they get me up in the morning. But I really wish I could sleep all day and be sad)

Since you've been gone I can do whatever I want
I can see whomever I choose
(I still try to sit next to you in math class, but you sit with your buddy now. If I go to another party, I guess I'll dance with someone else)

I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant
(Probably having Chinese food with my parents tonight)

But nothing
I said nothing can take away these blues
(Our love was so strong during that one dance at our classmates house. My heart is shattered, it was love)

'Cause nothing compares
Nothing compares to you
(I will never get over you)

--Lyrics by Sinead O'Connor, pre-teen translation by yours truly.

Part of me looks forward to these days with Amelia. I can't help but find amusement in the drama. Hopefully, if I hold on to my memories of those days, I may also identify with her heartbreaks and embarrassments and be the mom she needs.


A special thank you to @mamakatslosinit, whose pretty much world famous writing prompts help me out of many a writing funk.

Tearful shopping

I spoke again to a therapist about Amelia. I'm trying to be the "perfect mom" by making sure she isn't getting damaged by the stressful/emotional environment around here. I've watched enough Supernanny and Nanny 911 to know that most kid issues are the fault of the parents and/or environment. And I do not want to screw this kid up. She's too amazing.

Amelia really embraces her visits to the rehab center to see her aunt. She has never batted an eye at the wheelchairs she sees there. She's happy to ride along with her aunt or "steer" the wheelchair as she walks along beside it. But lately, Amelia has been acting strange. And I wanted to understand everything I could about how this may be affecting her - and causing some of these new behaviors.

We've been through two phases of separation anxiety before. Around 7 months of age and earlier this year. Amelia is in quite a serious anxiety phase now too. She cries and screams when I leave the room. She chases me upstairs if I'm simply going to brush my teeth. She wants to play with Mommy, sit by Mommy, sleep with Mommy. She's waking in the night and calling for us again. Amelia has pranced merrily into her classroom 2x/week for the past 11 months, but now she's clinging to me and crying again. Today, she begged me not to take her to school.

Hear that? It's the sound of my heart breaking.

We've had family members in and out of our house for a couple months now. And will for at least one more month to come. It's the least we can do for everyone while my sister-in-law is in the rehab center (we're the only ones that live in the Atlanta area). But Amelia's first question every morning is, "who is here, Mommy?"

She is very concerned with who is here, who has left, who is or isn't coming back. Even Daddy leaves for the day to go to work, and she has to confirm with me that he is (1) only at work and will (2) definitely be home tonight. With all of the in & out, I assume she sees me as the one who is always here. Always here when she wakes up, always there to pick her up from school. And I'm sensing some fear in her - maybe she thinks one day I'll leave while she's not looking.

Anyway, I got some fantastic tips for dealing with Amelia's new found anxieties. I'm supposed to not just respond to her concerns, but explain to her what they are. I've been saying, "Mommy always comes back" over & over again, but I should be prefacing that with, "You were afraid Mommy was going to leave, weren't you? You felt sad because you were scared without Mommy." Amelia is only two, so she needs help tying her emotion to a cause.

Check. I can do that.

The therapist also recommended that I get some special books for her. Books regarding family member illness, fears, and worry. So I took a trip to Barnes & Noble. I didn't find anything for our situation, or appropriate for Amelia's young age. Most of these books seem to hit more of the 4+ age groups. But the multitude of therapy books on the shelves was eye-opening. And I became sad. Even a little teary-eyed.

Books about divorce:
I Don't Want to Talk About it
It's Not Your Fault, Koko Bear

Books about cancer:
When Mommy Loses Her Hair
Can I Still Kiss You?

Books about death:
Help Me Say Goodbye
I Don't Have an Uncle Phil Anymore

Okay, A LOT teary-eyed. It hurts my heart to think of children who have to deal with such grown-up things. Kids should be happy, carefree, playing.

But things happen. More things than I had in mind, since I was keeping my tunnel vision on our own singular family situation.

Stop and hug your child today. And really feel it. That's what I'm going to do.

Drama queen in action

I wish I had the energy to write thought-provoking posts each night. But not so much right now.

It's hard to live life in the "real" world when something so truly real and difficult to grasp is right smack in the middle of my world. SIL is doing well, by the way... but the ups & downs will continue. And the physical change she needs to accomplish is still a while away. (But we know she'll get there!)

When I can't coax my brain into a place to write, I tend to rely on photos. Shame on me, I know.

But hey - deal with it. :)

Since I've already done a couple photo posts in the past week, I'll graduate to a video instead.

Enjoy - my favorite drama queen in action!