Life is a Puzzle (Part 1)

I know what your thinking: "Holly Crap"! The lady writes one little blog and now she is going into one with 'parts'. Yea, well... I was prepared to write the second blog about "Second in Line". AKA my middle child, even started writing it. Then it hit me that maybe I should explain how I ended up with my "Degree" on raising "My" children.

My first "Little" thing in life that changed it the most drastically would be an accident when I was 2 years old. I fell down a fight of stairs that lead from a second story apartment to the ground floor. I heard the story many times growing up. Never bothered me until I heard my Dad tell my Step-mom the story. The key information they withheld from me was that my heart had stopped while in route to the hospital. They were able to resuscitate me before we reached the ER. I guess you could say that was a good thing? Yep, now I can say it was.

I remember sitting at the table listening to my Dad tell that story. I remember not being able to chew or swallow the food that was in my mouth. Like many stories in my life, I contemplated on what was said, then threw it to the back burner of my mind. Only to resurface years later.

When I was 41 my stepmother died suddenly. While there were many things about the process that troubled me; reinforced the fact that my Dad and Step-mom thought ill of me; the one thing that I hold on too is: At the funeral, I being my normal self, had said that while we suffer greatly when we loose a loved one, I truly believe that when our work here on earth is done, we are called "home". My Dad then asked me if I had remembered anything about my "accident". No, I don't. I do not remember looking down on my body while they worked on me; I do not remember a tunnel with a light. But then I was 2. I can't say I remember much from when I was 2... But that one comment did take my my thoughts off the back burner; all I can say is that if you watch, and listen, you may just get the answer you were looking for.

I have learned that without question, I am here for a reason. I still ponder why, but every year I see more clearly the reason why. I was saved so I can forever change my family tree. Well, my side anyway. My brother is still a work in progress, but that is a different story. One in which I am not qualified to write.

I have sworn to myself and my offspring, not to pass on what was taught. I understand that Parents have no "owners manuals", but damn it!... There are some things that a child should not have to endure. I do not write this for anyone to feel sorry for me. For I feel I am one of the lucky ones. I have realized that I am in charge of my life, and I am the only one that can change it. That being said, there are scars that once ingrained, will take many years to buff out, if at all.

My "buffing out" process has been a long one. One in which I can say I am still working on. But work on it I will. Why? Because that is one of the reasons I am here. I feel, that until my ego shines to a brilliant; eye blinding polish; I still have work that needs to be done.

I have worked very hard over the years to shield my children from my parents. The sad part, I still have to protect them. It pains me to think that my parents have not come to grips with the fact that they are holding themselves hostage. But again, I am back to what life has taught me; only YOU can change YOU. There is NO way anyone can change someone else without their will.

I great empathy for those that have had a childhood rougher than mine. Maybe.. Just maybe.. I am here to help them through their troubles too?

Going out on a limb

I recently read an article on why someone writes. It has inspired me to dive back into the world of writing. Years ago I thought I was quite good at getting my thoughts down on paper. Even if most of it was in the form of a nasty gram directed at someone who pissed me off.

I feel a little awkward as I write now. The years as a wife, mother, and employee has somehow dulled my creative side. Not that I'm complaining. Those roles are an important part of my life. Now that the kids are for the most part self-sufficient, and I will be facing an empty nest if a few short years, I feel this is a great time to go back to something I enjoyed. Even if it is for no one else but me.

In reflecting on some of my old writings, one in particular stands out. While in Nursing school I wrote a paper on Erythroblastosis Fetalis. If I could pull off an "A" paper on red blood cells in my 20's, surely now that I am in my 40's, with many more life experiences, I could write a blog.... Right?

The one thing that I foresee as being a stumbling block is topics to write on. I will no doubt be writing mostly about ME, since that is what I know best. Also, writing about the kids and how I have grown as a person since they came into my life. I think there is no greater calling than being a Mommy. It's ironic how I started out, not having a clue, and still somehow winding up with terrific kids. Maybe it was no accident? I did not have great parents myself, so I swore that I would not do it "their" way. Was it because I was so hell bent on doing it differently? The one thing I can tell you for sure, without the writings of Dr. James Dobson, my first child would have never made it to adulthood.

OK, lets start with that. The "First Child": The "First Child" was a very strong willed child. I remember one day in particular. I was so angry, frustrated and confused on what to do with her, I had to lock myself in my room so I would not hurt that tantrum-throwing-carpet ape. I remember sitting against the door crying uncontrollably. Even after days liked that, we somehow were able to parent and guide her without breaking her spirit. She is still strong willed, which I am thankful for. No one is going to persuade her into do something she feels is moral wrong. She has her own mind and is able to think for herself. I feel we truly helped to guide her into the person God meant her to be.

The "First Child" is now 18 and one of my best friends. I never believed I could love someone so unconditionally. She has taught me patience. She has taught me how to forgive. She has taught me how to stand up for myself. She has taught me how to stand up for someone I love. She has taught me how to pick the fights worth fighting. She has taught me how to be thankful. She has taught me how to be proud. And now, her greatest feat; teaching me how to let her live her own life, without loosing the belief that mommy will always love, and be there for her.

OK, that felt good!

I am very excited to be starting this venture. I am even more excited to see how I progress.