To Be Enough

There are days when I cannot wait for them to leave the classroom!

Days filled with whining, arguing and picking at each other like tiny piranhas.

Days when the neediness so normal for their young age multiplied by twenty overwhelms my store of patience.

Any parent knows the feeling. It is the same feeling that comes right before the bedtime that is too long getting here.

And then, there are days when I cannot bear to watch them leave.
Days when one of them takes the broken pieces of my heart out the door with them. 

There are nights when a sweet little face is all I see as I putter around in my safe, snug and cozy little home by the lake. Nights when my thoughts are never far from a little one whose story wrecked my soul.

There are days when the limitations of the job I love fill in the broken places of my heart with frustration and helpless anger.

Those are the days when even the most gentle of Kindergarten teachers has hatred in her heart for those who would victimize a baby.

Those are the days when I pray the hardest to make a difference,

to be a light,

to be a safe place to fall

and to be strong enough and gentle enough and smart enough

to pick up the pieces of a heart smaller and much more tender than 

my own and glue those pieces back together. 

To be enough.

Those day are the hardest of them all.

Just sayin'.............

Unwritten

Yes, it has been a long time.

The trouble with blogs is that sometimes people read them.

And sometimes the stories I need to write are not mine alone.

When that happens, I have to leave my words unwritten. 

For me, writing is a compulsion. I must confess that inside the secret world of my thoughts I am always writing.  

Always searching for that perfect word, that one phrase that feels as good as sliding between fresh new sheets.

So much has happened that begs for words and I am ever aware of the stress relief denied by my decision to leave them unwritten. 

At any rate, I am back. 

Maybe, to write some of those unwritten words. 
For they belong to me also.

Maybe. 

If Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness Then Please Hear My Prayer Oh Lord!

Oh Lord,

Thank you for allowing me to see the humor in the fact that my daughter is mad at ME because the water main down the street is busted. 

Thanks for letting me giggle a little when she yelled at ME because now there is no water and how is she supposed to wash her hair because she has to go to work and they will send her home if she just puts it up in a pony tail and yes they will because you don't know them and now what is she supposed to do call in and tell them that we don't have any water and what do you mean go to a friend's house for a shower that's ridiculous! Gosh!

I'm just asking one thing, Lord.

Please help me not to giggle out loud gain or You-Forbid smile at her.

You gave her the same I'm.Going.To.Kill.You.In.Your.Sleep! glare that you gave me and her older sister and I'm a little worried.

Oh yes, Lord.

About the dog that had diarrhea 4 times in various places throughout the house last night...you know the one who waited until I sat down to recuperate from the horror of the clean up to vomit at my feet and immediately run away to have ANOTHER episode of diarrhea.

Um.......remember that broken water main?????


Just sayin' asking..........................


Amen

Disclaimer-Just so you know this is one great kid who makes me proud every day! Sometimes the drama of being 17 (or 50) is just more than a girl can handle!

A Mother's Day Song

I hope you enjoy this very special Mother's Day ballad recently shown at my church, Southside Baptist!





How 'bout a buffet?

Just sayin'.....................................

Tina Fey Says It Best!

 Please enjoy one of my favorite prayers for mothers.

“First, Lord: No tattoos.

May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor

Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not

Damaged, for it’s the

Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the

Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered,

May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half

And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her

When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from

Acting but not all the way to

Finance.

 

Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes

And not have to wear high heels.

What would that be, Lord?

Architecture?

Midwifery?

Golf course design?

I’m asking You, because if I knew,

I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the

Drums to the fiery rhythm of her

Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her

Own Arms, so she need

Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a

Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.

Let her draw horses and be interested in

Barbies for much too long,

For childhood is short –

a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day –

And adulthood is long

and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever,

That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers

And the online marketing campaign for

Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a

Bitch in front of Hollister,

Give me the strength, Lord,

to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends,

For I will not have that Shit.

I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day,

be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her,

lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M.,

all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love

with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back.

“My mother did this for me once,”

she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck.

 “My mother did this for me.”

And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation

and she will make a

Mental Note to call me.

And she will forget.

But I’ll know,

because I peeped it with

Your God eyes.”

 
― Tina Fey, Bossypants

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to my first mother.
The one who chose life for me.
The one who's name I may never know.
The one who gave me life a second time
when she gave me back to God allowing Him
to give me a mama. The one I wish I could
meet in person so that I could thank her and
tell her how wonderful my life has been.

Happy Mother's Day to my real mother.
The one who gave me a name.
The one who taught me that unconditional
love is the birthright of EVERY child and
does not depend upon genetics. The one
who called me her precious angel, taught
me to bake a pound cake, love rainy days
paired with a good book and how to love
people. The one I miss more than I ever
thought possible and more than I ever thought
I could bear.

Happy Mother's Day to my sister who like
our own mother has helped raise children
she did not give birth to but who grew in
her heart instead. The one who honored
our mother and father in the most perfect
way possible without even knowing she did
so. The one who instinctively held the hand
of her 14 year old sister as we crossed a
parking lot and who still throws her arm across
me protectively if she has to stop the car
too quickly.

Happy Mother's Day to my mother-in-law who
raised a man whose heart is kind and generous.
The one who is a super hero who may appear
to be a mere accountant but who is stronger than
anyone knows. The one who fought her way through
hard times as treacherous as quicksand with a tenacity
I find amazing! The one who raised two boys alone
while teaching them to be strong in adversity, to love
whole-heartedly and to be good to people. To this
day they adore her and so do I!

Happy Mother's Day to teachers everywhere
who mother those who need it the most. You
see, we don't mother them all for many of them
have mothers who do a fine job. We mother the
ones who need us though. The ones who don't
know that they are a gift from God and are
wonderfully made.

Happy Mother's Day to my people. Who know
who they are and who mother me when I feel a
little bit orphaned. MNG forever!

And finally, Happy Mother's Day to the mothers
to be. Who remind us that life goes on and who
give us all reason to believe in miracles.

Today is a good day to be a mother!

Just sayin'.........................

Missing Mom

I am trying not to think about how I won't hear from my mother on my birthday this year and I am not being very successful.

I have stubbornly fought the gray, sad this week but right now, alone at home while in between doctor appointments, I can cry a little.

Two weeks ago the second anniversary of her death passed with little fanfare.

Part of me feels a little offended that there is no national holiday or parades with floats that support the Let's Eradicate Dumb, Stupid Gall Bladder Cancer Association. 

Most of me wants to be at the beach listening to the waves whisper and the birds answer.

When I get a little richer I will make a pilgrimage each year to her favorite beach. I will sit alone on the sand and look for the dolphins that often play there. I will dig in the sand underneath the shells and flip them over with my big toe. Like she taught me.

I will watch each wave and remember that life goes on just like they do and I will cry a little and feel God's perfect peace.

My birthday will forever be missing something. The tabernacle choir that called me each year on Cinco de Mayo will never be the same and while I don't feel much like celebrating a friend reminded me that Mom loved my birthday so I plan to pull up my big girl britches and have a great day with most of the people I love the best. 

I do not write about sad times or scary times for sympathy or attention.

I write about them for me.

I really despise the kid glove treatment and have an almost uncontrollable urge to throw something pointy at well intentioned people who tiptoe around me.

I much prefer some inappropriate humor or the way my boss-friend punches me in the shoulder and says-It'll be okay. Except the sore shoulder part. She hits hard!

I like how my gang knows to say things like-
I think you are sad and having a hard time. Do you want to talk about it or would you rather hit Mrs. Fabulous?

I don't know why she always flinches when they say that.

Just sayin'..................................