Family matters

My mom titles all her emails to us "Family matters". I know that she is referring to matters, as in "issues", but I like to think that it's more like "Family MATTERS". It means something.

My family is huge, and with huge families comes a lot of crazy. There's always a few people who are not speaking, who have waged some kind of war on each other over some words that were said and probably not meant. But words are just words and my family is big on forgiveness and even bigger on love.

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I think all parents & kids have issues that strain their relationship, especially when the kids are in their teens & 20's. Somehow all problems seem larger than they really are when you're still young and have yet to really experience the way that life can cut you in two.
When you get a few more years under your belt, you start to realize that life is bigger than you. Other people have feelings and the things you say & do have a real, lasting effect on the ones you love.
You also find yourself making some of the same choices as your parents and finally get a glimpse of understanding just what the hell the people who raised you were thinking.

And, when you are a parent and you hit a rough patch with your own children, it is really, quite humbling.
You will want to call your mom (and your dad & grandpa & grandma & aunts & uncles & even maybe some of your old teachers) and apologize for having been a complete and total mess of a human being in your younger years.

But when you do call your parents and ask them how they got through those days with you and they answer that they had no idea what they were doing, either, it's like the biggest weight being lifted off your shoulders.
There's nothing more encouraging than knowing that the people you respect and look to for guidance & support are just fumbling through life doing the best they can, too.

They never had the answers, either, and somehow you all made it out alive.

14 years remembered well

I remember being 16, with a swollen belly full of baby.
I remember things that were said and the things that were not and
I remember the things that I thought about you.
I remember uncertainty and reservations and doubts and then,
I remember a leap of faith.

I remember a first breath and tears from you and from me and
I remember diapers and sleep deprivation and high school exams and
I remember you had the bluest eyes.
I remember tiny fingers and tiny toes that grew too fast.
I remember when you learned to walk and when you cut your first teeth and
I remember your first bad owie and
I remember I cried along with you.

I remember Kindergarten and how you loved recess and
I remember that you hated math, even from the start.
I remember Middle School and you were growing up and
I remembered that somewhere along the way I had grown up, too.

I remember that a long time ago, you were a part of me and now
I must remember that you are becoming a man and even if
you remember being my baby,
I must remember that you are no longer mine, you are now your own, but
I will always remember that it was you who made me a mother.

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Happy Birthday to my oldest. 

I love you bigger than the moon

Flashback Friday: 1,2,3 Happy Birthday to my Baby

Shrinky, age 5 months

I wrote this little poem for all of my children, but just for today I dedicate it to my daughter.
Happy 3rd birthday, my sweet girl.

Before you

There were nights to sleep in uninterrupted bliss
And no boogey-men to dispel of
No wet sheets to change hurriedly
or emergency midnight baths
I had no crayon drawings for my fridge
Or paper bag puppets
No sand in my shoes
Or snot on my sleeve
I had friends and fun
and you were not there
to ask me questions and interrupt
private conversations with silly dances
and made up jokes that nobody understood
there was no “Mama, can I?”
there was no mama at all
before you.

My goofy, smart, sweet, crazy, beautiful, amazing girl, age 3