Acceptance of Truth

I've been keeping this post to myself.  I didn't want to share it for many reasons.

Fear being at the root of them all.

I have to write it though.

For the sake of moving forward.

For the sake of being honest.  With myself.

It's not enough for me anymore to write things in my journal.  I find it more therapeutic to blog it out, then it's not private anymore, it's out there.  It makes it more real, it makes me accountable. 

I've been thinking alot about my life.  Where it's headed, what I could be doing differently, what needs attention these days to make the journey smoother.

And the one thing that I keep coming back to, the one thing that I pretend isn't a big deal, and yet it feels like a huge boulder sitting in my path is the issue of my family.

They are in almost every dream I dream.  I dream of hugging my sister, seeing my brothers smile and fighting to get a kiss from my nephew.  I dream of long talks with my mom and short shopping trips that turn into hours of browsing the store.

I miss my mom.  I miss her presence in my life and yet she is still here on this earth and I have denied myself time and closeness with her.  I find myself thinking about all of the things we have done together over the years.  All the times I accompanied her to wedding receptions.  How much fun we had.

The problem has been that I have been denying that I miss them.  I've been afraid to admit it to myself.  I've been afraid to acknowledge the hole that has been left in my world by my family.  I wanted to be strong...  Not weak... 

I've been wrong.  It's not weak to admit your true feelings and speak your truth.  Strength is not in the fighting against and denial of your emotions.  Strength is in recognizing that something is standing in the way of you moving forward and doing something about it.
I've wasted too much time telling myself stories to convince myself that I don't miss them, that I'm better off without them in my life.
They may not be in a place of acceptance for this truth.  And it really doesn't matter, it only matters that I am in a place of accepting my truth.  Accepting it and embracing it and forgiving myself for denying it. 

That's where I am and that's where I've been for months now.

Garden of Gratitude

Years ago when I was into watching "Grey's Anatomy" and "Desperate Housewives", I remember getting this really great feeling inside of my stomach when I realized it was Sunday and my favourite shows would be on.

I didn't know where this feeling was coming from, I just know it made me feel alive, excited.  It was a feeling of joyful anticipation.

It wasn't just the television shows (I'm not quite THAT shallow!).  It was the time I would be spending with my husband that made me feel so great.  We both loved our Sunday night shows and so Sundays became the night we would get the kids to bed on time, then snuggle on the couch with 2 cups of tea and a blanket and enjoy our shows together.

I loved that Sunday night feeling.  It meant that I was capable of feeling deep gratitude for what I had in my life.

Now, I get that feeling a lot more often. 

I get it when I drop the kids skates off to be sharpened and when I get a good deal at the grocery store.  I got it when I bought my new winter jacket last week and enroute to a coffee date with a friend.  I get it when I am snuggled in bed for the last 1/2 hour of rest before my day really begins.  And I felt it just now when I looked out the window at the snow that is covering my backyard.

It's like all those Sunday night feelings were seeds that were planted once a week and now I am experiencing a garden of gratitude everywhere I turn.

There is certainly alot to be grateful for.  I am healthy.  I am in a loving marriage.  My kids are healthy and smart.  I have a beautiful, warm home and I am surrounded by loving friends and family (to name just a few!)

Some days it can slip our minds to be grateful, we live in a society of abundance and so we tend to overlook the little things. 

I believe that if you spend even the smallest amount of time each day feeling grateful, that feeling will grow into natural gratitude that will sneak in (or pour in) to your life in the moments where you least expect it..... 

The Long Road of Parenting

This weekend we spent an hour or so shoveling my father in law's driveway.  The boys all came along to give us a hand.

Well, one of them gave us a hand.  He was hoping to get it done as quick as possible because he wanted to hit the sledding hill.

The other two decided it was a great opportunity to have a snowball fight and wrestle in the snow.  At one point my 10 year old was buried chest deep in snow, courtesy of his older brother.

I love watching my boys play.  Sometimes I feel the oldest gets too rough with the youngest but it all seems to work out in the end.  My youngest has quite the little mouth on him and doesn't let his big brother get the best of him too often.  I was thinking the other day that they don't really get along, then I realized they get along perfectly for who they are, this is how they love each other.  Without this interaction they wouldn't have anything to do with each other.

I often wonder what their relationship will be like when they get older.  They are all so very different from each other and I've always hoped they would be supportive of each other later in life.

I know I have no control over this.  It's taken me a long time to realize (and admit to myself) that nothing I do or say can change how my children see each other and view their individual lives.

When they were younger I tried to make everything fair and square.  Trying hard to show them all that they were loved equally, and at the same time loved as the individual that they are.  I didn't want them to think that I loved one more than the others.  Didn't want to give one more attention than the others.

The reality is that they all require different levels of attention, among other things.  My oldest was never one to have us sit on the floor and play with him, my middle boy is very social and almost always needs a friend over, my youngest needs my attention almost constantly.

Trying to keep things "even" was the most stressful thing I could have done to myself.  I constantly questioned why I reacted one way to one child and another way to the other, why one punishment was sufficient for one and something more drastic was called for, for the other.

As a young Mom, my focus was on perfection.  Raising children who would successfully contribute to society, as well as make good and loving husbands and fathers.

Today, as a Mom who is more aware of herself and the lessons that life has for us.  I spend a lot of time with my boys just "being".  Talking about real stuff, doing things that make them feel loved and appreciated and listening to their stories, ideas and dreams.  We also spend a lot of time debating (okay arguing) and trying to convince each other that we need to let go a little and let everyone grow.

This is most likely a natural progression and not a really big deal.  It feels like it's taken me forever to get here though.  To appreciate being a mother and to appreciate all that I have learned from this role.  And to appreciate all that my children have taught me along the way.

It's certainly been a long road, and there is still much more to go.