mommyhood

Anthem.

This is from my favorite Christian artist, Ginny Owen.  I have had her CD for a long, long time... but find myself playing this particular song over and over... the video is a montage, but the words are what matters most...

Especially to me.  Especially now.

Hanging on.

Some days I am happy. Excited.  (Translation : denial) I don't think about all the things to do, bills to pay, stuff Landon needs.  I stick my head up in the clouds and pretend like my life is perfectly normal.

Most days I am overwhelmed. Angry.  Anxious.  Scared.  Terrified.  (Translation : reality)  I think about all the bills to pay, the wilted Money Tree, all the stuff Landon needs and doesn't have, and all the things that need to be done.  Yesterday.

Today is a reality sort of day.  Hard to breathe. 

My kid had no pencils for math this morning. None. Not one.  Add that to the list of me feeling like Mother of the Year.

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I miss my friend.  I hate it that it gets easier to let go.  But it does.  This is sad.  In more ways than it's possible to understand. No one understands this much.  That's my fault.  And it's okay. 

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I found my long-lost camera battery charger.  In a place I had not looked in the past six months.  You know, right where it should have been.  In the top drawer, wrapped up neatly next to my extra cell charger and the girls gameboy chargers.  Imagine that.

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Learnin to fly (again)

If I COULD have posted a video clip with this post - I would find the opening scene from the movie, "Baby Mama,' (which I could not find, by the way) in which Tina Fey is explaining how much she wants children, and how she's considered insemination and adoption and alll abou tthe health of her tilted uterus and failing ovaries.... then you see her poor dinner date - sitting there, completely bewildered - as she asks, "Oh, is this too much for a first date?"

Having said that, please enjoy the rest of this ...

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Had breakfast with a very old and dear friend this morning. On his invitation. Which is completely unexpected and you know, a treat.  However, please note : We're not calling this a 'date'  (OMG Mom please don't have a stroke) - as we have both decided that if we did, Jerry Springer - or maybe even Maury - would appear from behind a curtain, complete with live audience.  And you know what happens when Jerry shows up - someone - someone who should never consider it ever, is going to take off their shirt on live television. 

Regardless of the title of our breakfast, the friendship is priceless at the current time for both of us.  We both probably need serious therapy - but - it turns out - two hour long breakfasts are cheaper and just as effective.

Priceless, effective and  - um - you know, funny.  In that "our-lives-are-like-watching-a-good-train-wreck" kinda way.

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And so you ask, what am I doing this lovely fall afternoon?

Jesus, Mary and Joseph - I am BABY - PROOFING my house.

BABY. PROOFING.

This involves a lot of work and cussing and where-in-the-hell-is-Mandy when I need someone to talk my ears off all afternoon?

Baby-proofing is not something I ever thought I would be doing, EVER again.  But, alas - here we are.

And, since Jennifer has so graciously offered, along with my sweet Mary, to help me out when Landon decides to arrive - I figure it's time to make my house all "safe" for Jackson.

Because I don't think Jackson would like to leave covered in dog hair or with any non-food items in his tummy.  Actually, come to think of it - Jackson would probably love both - but I don't think his Mama would.

It wouldn't be a proper way of showing my thanks, would it?

Now I just need a receptionist.

This morning, I came into work to find that I had been given my very own office.  Yes indeed, a brand new, fancy desk, rug, lamp and table, as well as new computer with faster this-and-that.  An actual "space" of my very own, complete with walls and shelving and a real-live entrance.  I think this might be because my bosses tired of me throwing things directly at customers, and this way, they figure I have to go to a LOT more effort to piss people off. 

Now, if I want, I can pick my fingernails in peace - or even chew with my mouth open.

This is a step up, for a girl like me - to say the least.  I might even consider sleeping here.  Tomorrow, I will bring in my camera and share the joy of brand new office furniture and product with all of you.  It's almost like living in Staples.

And then this came in my email.

Just when I thought I was having one of the worst days ever. Wondering where in the world to find the new pair of shoes I need... my sweet, precious, wonderful, amazing (former) mother-in-law sent me this email... ready? 

**from her daily devotional**

Your boundaries are your values.  What's important to you defines who you really are.  Recently, a friend of mine told some people she worked with,  "When you violate my boundaries, you force me to make a decision and you may not like that decision.  I know where I got my boundaries from, and you wouldn't like me without them.  That old me was not a nice person.  My Father is pleased with me the way I am and you are the beneficiary of that.  So please, respect my boundaries, and we'll get along just fine."
 
There are areas of your life that belong to God alone and no one else should be allowed to come there.  Are you getting the message?

Boundaries.  I need some.  With a few people. 

How many times am I willing to allow the same people to hurt me over and over again?  How many times am I willing to question my own decisions to the point of insanity?  How many times am I willing to accept that someone else's terrible behavior is MY fault?

Not anymore.  This might be the hardest time.  But it is certainly the best time for starting anew.

Complete with a fortress of boundaries.

(Thanks, Grammy.  I love you!)

More about me. Because I know you care.

So, this has probably been one of the very worst weeks of my entire life.  Lots of stress.

Lots.

It's funny how people can be soooo supportive to your face, yet not MISS an opportunity to belittle you to others behind your back.  Yeah. Funny.  I find this kind of ironic, most especially considering the sources...  

Frankly, I am tired.  My head is full of many an important decision, and I find myself basing my well-being and general happiness on what others might think.  Jesus.  I am thirty now. I wonder when this stops being something I hang onto so much.  I am wasting time and energy on people who will never consider me up to par.  My life is about to change again.  And I am buckling my seatbelt.  For the backlash.  Not from myself.  From everyone else.  And I realize, this is pathetic.

I have made wrong decisions. Plenty.  I am completely disorganized.  My dishes, they aren't always clean.  My bills, they are sometimes paid later than they should be.  My laundry room?  Yep.  Always has a load or two of dirty laundry to wash and fold.

I probably won't ever get married again.  I certainly don't have time or the help to ever consider finishing my education.  I will probably always work for hourly pay.

Not perfect.

DID EVERYONE HEAR THAT?  I MEAN, EVERYONE?

In the last few weeks, I have been forced to become - to get - okay with ME.  I realized the only reason I continue to struggle with who I am, and the decisions I have made and will make, is for fear of what others might think, say, email, or whisper.

I am me. And I think I'm okay with that. What a refreshing thing to say - and it only took til 30.

Credits.

Special thanks, kudos, etcetera to those who made my 30th birthday completely delightful ....

1. ... My sister, Becca (and Betsy and Bo) who happened to be the First Birthday Callers of the Day.  Who knew a Bull Mastiff could sing so well?

2. ... My mom, dad and girls for breakfast at The Bus Station - which is, in fact, the place to be seen (and die of a heart attack) in Dallas, Georgia.

3. ... Jenn and Brian, who called on speakerphone to sing Happy Birthday in chorus.  Which, I would like to add, they should reallllly continue their day jobs.

4. ... to Grammy, who brought me Ginger scented lotion and bodywash, which she happens to know is my favorite...

4.5. ... to the entire city of Macon, that welcomed me home with NuWay Weiners.

5.  ... Jordin, who decided that, since it WAS my birthday and I was forced to spend the whole day and night at a dance competition, we COULD eat where I wanted to - despite the fact that she might turn three shades of green, shrink two inches and grow a third ear.

6. ... Jennifer M., who passed down her "Thirty" themed jewelry to me... and wouldn't let me give it back... and bought me the cute Spoon Bag from Target I've been coveting.  And a flower. And a bottle of wine. 

7. ... Ms. Lynn, who bought my dinner.

8. ... Emma, who shared her birthday with me - even though she's only turning eight and will surely have more fun than me in a very cold swimming pool with a plastic squid named Frederick.

9. ... Melissa, Emma's Mom, who made sure I had a birthday cake... Happy Berday Racher

10. ... all the dance mommies who shared my birthday with me at the pool, snacking on Melissa's fudge and singing, bringing presents and making me feel extra special in general.

11. ... to the two cohorts who painted my entire car with the words DIRTY THIRTY.  HA HA - it rained it right off...

12. ... to Josh, who apparently hired an entire Mariachi Band.

13. ... and finally, to JLo, who said to me as our heads hit the pillow... "Well, Mama, say goodbye to your birthday..."

Things a Single Woman Should NEVER do Alone.

1. Watch "Serendepity" and "Jerry Maguire" consecutively.  Was I on drugs? 

2. See #1.