Dream your dreams, my child, and I will help you love them into reality

I don’t even know where to begin because there’s just so much I want to say and no words can express what I’m thinking and feeling right now. So forgive this post. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… I am not a writer. My writing is just exactly what I’m thinking with very little editing. Tonight, there will be no editing whatsoever. I am guaranteed to be an emotional wreck when I’m finished. So again, forgive what may be poor writing and look beyond it to the content of the writing.

My momma. What a wonderful amazing woman she was. As a little girl I idolized her. I wanted to wear her make-up and clothes and be as cool as she was. As a teen I struggled with my view of her. Part of me loved that all my friends loved her and part of me resented that she was way cooler to my friends than I was. She just had this light that drew everyone to her. As a woman I miss her, I appreciate her in ways I couldn’t have when I was young.

My mom was so flipping fun. When I was a little girl we were poor. We didn’t really have money to do much and when we did it was often because of someone else’s kindness. My mom worked a couple of jobs and went to college. She still found the time to enjoy the little stuff with my sisters and I though, the stuff that didn’t cost a whole lot of money. We had living room picnics on dreary days for no reason at all. We’d have family movie nights and my mom would make popcorn and homemade milkshakes. We’d go for rides on back roads just to listen to music on the radio and relax. She’d even make the car boogie back and forth when the road was clear.

There are a few memories of my mom and the car that everyone remembers. When my sisters had softball tournaments my mom and I would go (she’d make me go to show my support) and drive behind the school bus. She blast MC Hammer as load as it would go. The girls in the back of the bus could hear it and were dancing right along with us. She always brought those little juice jugs for everyone on the team too. Then when I got a bit older she’d go tooling with my friends. Yep, that’s right, with MY friends. Sometimes I’d go out with my boyfriend or something and come home to find out my friends had called my mom to go tooling with them.

My mom was like that with all our friends. It was something I loved and hated at the same time. My mom worked for a non-profit Juvenile Jail Diversion program. Sometimes I’d bring a new friend by the house and they’d already know each other. At that point I knew I’d never get to hang out with that person again. The friends that made it passed that check point wound up being very close to my mom. They confided in her. They went to her with their hopes, dreams and fears. Many of them even called her to hang out when I wasn’t around. I remember coming home from camp and seeing my best friend pull out of the yard with her mom as I pulled in the driveway. She’d spent the night with my mom watching movies and drooling over David Duchovny in X Files.

One of the great things about everyone liking my mom is that it made it easier for me to stay home. My mom was first diagnosed with cancer when I was 13 and it reappeared when I was 17 years-old. I worried about her, more so the second time when I was old enough to better understand what was happening. We had foster kids staying with us so there were 5 girls, including myself, to look after. I became the second parent, well, I guess I had been for a while. It made me a bit anxious to be too far from home. I felt that I needed to be there in case she needed me. I don’t regret a single missed party either.

Everything that makes me who I am I can attribute to this woman in one way or another. I have learned more from her than any other person in the world, even after her death. She didn’t just give birth to me, she made me.

I learned what it was to be reflective from her which is perhaps one of my strongest traits. She was always very in tune with how she was feeling and how we were feeling. There were so many times when she knew how I was feeling without me even having to utter a word. She could place the reasons behind my feelings, my actions, when even I couldn’t. I remember talking to my stepdaughter about my mom once and she told me that I do the same thing. I didn’t even realize I did it. One of my favorite things about my mom and I got a little bit of it.

I learned what strength and dignity was watching her. In her actions she showed me that you could fall apart sometimes and still be strong. One night when I was a teen I remember hearing my mom crying in her room. I went in to see if she was ok and she confided in me that she was worried she wasn’t doing the right things for us, that she wasn’t meeting all our needs somehow. She was a single mom trying to muddle through on her own. Even though she wasn’t there when I became a parent that moment has helped me so much as a parent. I couldn’t think of a better parent than her and even she questioned herself. Most of the time she was so confident, so sure she was doing the right thing. Battling cancer I saw her cry not for herself, but for us. The next day she’d pull herself back together again show her strength. Mom showed me that strength isn’t always steady, sometimes it’s shaky legs slowly rising to stand again knowing you won’t be able to stay on your feet for long.

I miss my mom. I miss her every single day. I hear her in my voice, see her in my children. How I wish my kids had met my momma. How desperately I want to be a fraction of the mom I had to my children. She would have loved my husband. I feel so cheated that she never met my family, the family I made for myself.

Sometimes when I really need her she’ll come to me in a dream. It’s always in the present. She’s always alive and interacting with my kids, my husband, me. Whatever is bothering me most we’ll talk about and she’ll help me. She tells me she’s proud of me even though I don’t feel like there’s much in me to be proud of. Instead of waking up with an ache in my chest from missing her, I wake with a sense of peace that nothing else can give me.

I have so much more I want to say but the ache that always there is getting a little overwhelming now. So I guess I’ll close with the poem my mom wrote for me. Yeah all of those wonderful things, and she was a poet too.

I miss you, Momma.

Wendy Jean Grass Burns

May 27, 1957 – September 23, 1998

Amiee

Shades of the woman you will become filter through more every day

I see reflections in your eyes – your knowledge grows strong and fast

You amaze me with your quiet courage yet I can feel your fear in the stillness of the night

So many wishes for you

So many dreams

I believe in you; I have faith not only in your destination

But also in your journey

What can I give you that you do not already possess

What can I take from you that you have not already given

No promises between us –they are not needed

Your whole life is a promise

Dream your dreams, my child

And I will help you love them into reality

The frog prince....

There was this boy; this tall, lanky boy with dark hair. I used to play with him by the swings. He always smiled and I liked him. Not in that school-girl crush kind of way, but in the way that always made me smile and feel warm.

As we grew up we didn’t talk as much. We would smile in the hall at school and talk during class here and there. We just never saw each other outside of school really.

I remember when we dissected frogs in Biology. He sat behind me and knew I was completely freaked out. He sliced poor little Kermit’s mouth all the way back as instructed and stuck a dissection pin in his bottom lip. In his best croaky voice he said, “Amiee, kiss me, I’m a prince!” That memory still makes me smile.

After graduation I’d see him at the pizza place on the corner cooking and we’d say hi, but it wasn’t until later that I understood how he saw me. He said he admired mine and my sisters’ bravery. Our mother had passed from cancer the previous fall. He didn’t know that we were all in pieces on the inside and barely holding it together on the outside. He wrote to us in January but it was October before he shared his words. Maybe if he knew, if I’d told him I was falling apart too…

When I was a little girl my Grampy, my dad’s dad, wasn’t around a lot, or at least as much as my mom’s dad. My mom would take us to the grocery store where he was the butcher. He’d show us the lobsters in the tank and we’d squeal watching them climb each other. His wife, my dad’s step-mom, was kind of scary in my young eyes but she had a lot of dolls so that made her ok in my book. I was young, I didn’t understand…

Before I even met him I’d nicknamed him Omega because of his relationship with my college buddies.  He was great. He smiled a lot. I laughed a lot with him. We were more friends by association than anything. Anyone could see how in love my friend, Spoons, was with him. He loved her too. He was struggling though. He was drowning, reaching for help that just couldn’t find him. One day he just couldn’t reach anymore….

 

The tall, lanky boy with the frog, Grampy, Omega…. They all have one thing in common; they’re dead by their own hands. Their futures are now just a bunch of ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys.’

Suicide Prevention Week ended on Saturday. It came and went without my acknowledgement; something I won’t accept. This week I will be writing love on my arms for these people, these amazing people, who left us all too soon. I ask that everyone take a moment to remember  the lives lost to suicide, to tell the people you love that you love them and are there if they need you. 

You are missed and will not be forgotten.

Everybody needs a catch phrase

Most famously important people have that word or phrase which they'll forever be known for, even if it was unintentional.
 Lincoln's known for, "Four score and seven years ago..."  
Martin Luther King will be remembered for, "I had a dream!"
Urkel had, "Did I do that?" 
The baby dino from Dinosaurs had, "not the Momma!"
"Is this chicken or fish that I'm eating?" will always make us think of Jessica Simpson.

When I was younger, a teen, I responded to almost anything my sister said with, "so's your face." It didn't even make sense. It didn't even have to be a retort to something mean. She could be asking me to pass the butter and I'd respond with, "so's your face!" It lasted for almost a year and every once in a while I still use it.

This is how The Professor found his catch phrase...

It was one of best friend's birthdays. I was a single mother of two and really wanted to do something special for her. I decided to make her shepherd's pie, her favorite, and this really cool 3-D ducky cake. I made the cake the night before and left it to cool overnight. 

When I checked in the morning it hadn't cooked all the way and had fallen. Awesome. Now I had to drag a 4 year-old and a 2 year-old to the store to pick up more cake stuff. I got home had everyone settled, no eggs. Back to the store. 

I get the cake baked and while I'm waiting for it to cool I start cleaning the horrendous mess my boys made while I was baking. Spilled juice? Check. Crayon on the floor? Check. I start making the shepherd's pie and they start fighting. Referee the WWE preschool edition event? Check. 

I get all the icing on my irresistibly cute ducky cake and ever so carefully put him in the fridge. On the way into the fridge I smear the entire left side of face against the light. Great. Now my cute ducky is a stroke victim. I put on another episode of Thomas the Train and get to work repairing him between snack and juice requests. 

I blow up balloons and hang a Happy Birthday banner in the living room. My friends arrive and can see I'm a little frazzled. I vent about my day a little.

At the time my kitchen was barely more than a cubby hole and I didn't have a table. So everyone settled into the living room to eat, even Mischievous Middle in his high chair. I fed the kids first and got everyone their plates. When I sat down with my own plate I finally started to relax a little. Then it happened.

Mischievous Middle. That kid was just dieing to see me snap. I know it. Those cherub cheeks and precious curls weren't fooling me. He decided he was finished with his food and promptly tossed the entire plate, minus two bites, onto the carpet.

For thirty intense seconds no one spoke. No one breathed. They just looked back and forth between me and Mischievous Middle's broad grin. I was near tears.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, EVERYONE!!!" The Professor screamed.

What great comedic timing! I burst out laughing. When everyone else realized that I wasn't going to go all Jason Voorhees on them all they laughed too. It was great.

I've told this story a few times and a few months ago The Professor started using it all the damn time. "Happy birthday, everyone!" at random points during the day gets just plain annoying. I now understand why Mr. Winslow always turned that strange color when Urkel exclaimed, "Did I do that?"

I was so annoyed one day that I asked him why on earth he kept saying it. "It's just funny. It was my first joke. It's my catch phrase now," he said.

What a character.

When the going gets tough...

So one of the pages I love, The Crumb Diaries (her links are at the bottom of this post,) posted a status on facebook that really struck a cord so I thought I'd share it and share my response to her. Here it is:

 

The Crumb Diaries:

With 'Stand up to Cancer' on every channel, and Mary Tyler Mom doing the radiothon today, cancer has kind of been the theme of the day. I've heard a lot of people share their cancer stories.

Many survivors and families have made comments like "cancer picked the wrong person to mess with" or "I wasn't going to stop fighting for my child".." my child is tough as nails"

Ok I GET this. I really, truly do. My mother has gone through 18 yrs of cancer. Double mastectomy. Reconstruction. Tons and tons of chemotherapy. Radiation. Months and months of recovery - and all of the emotional damage that comes along with it.

My younger sister - my only sibling - has been dealing with thyroid cancer for 12 yrs. Surgeries. Radiation. Constant changes in medication. A pregnancy in early diagnosis that she risked her life to carry to term.

I GET that we want to say these things. I wouldn't give up on them. They are fighters....but what does this say to/about families who've lost their fight? They weren't fighting? People gave up on them?

Cancer SUCKS period. Fight/don't fight - circumstances can change an outcome in a heartbeat.

 

DysFUNctionally Blended:

 

 My mother died of cancer when I was only 17. My sisters were 15 and 12. She fought and thought she won, only for cancer to rear its ugly head again a year away from being medically 'cancer free.' That last time, as I snuggled with her in bed, she told me she was tired of fighting and that my sisters and I were the only reason she kept on. I remember the last time I saw her able to somewhat carry a conversation. I told her that it was ok to let go, that my sisters and I would be alright. We wouldn't be alright at all, but that's another story.

The fact is my mother fought with everything she had. She gave cancer quite a struggle to finally lay claim to her body, but it never claimed her spirit. That is what it means to me to say that you're fighting, that you're tough and cancer isn't going to 'get' you. It has little to do with the body and everything to do with the spirit. My mom had her days where she cried and felt sorry for herself, for her children. There were days where cancer won, but even more where my mom triumphed and shined. Those days, the days with smiles and laughter behind tired and weak eyes, those days far outnumber the others.

My mom fought. My mom died. That doesn't mean my mom didn't win. Even in death her spirit was shining through, that's something cancer will never take.

 

 

http://www.facebook.com/TheCrumbDiaries 

http://thecrumbdiaries-curveballs.blogspot.com/ 

 

Did you lose weight? Nah, my responsibilities have stretched me a little thin.

One of the wonderful things about motherhood is the way it can turn even the most everyday circumstances into an opportunity to overwhelm you with guilt. I am no exception.

Until very recently I've always had schedules with a fair amount of flexibility but not anymore. I started a new job in early August that's full-time weekdays. Since I'm a n00b I have no wiggle room in my schedule, no sick or vacation time until after 90 days. Any wiggle room others might have I don't, because my husband works for the same company in a different contract and they've accommodated us with opposite schedules so we don't have to put the girls in daycare. With n00b status comes the overwhelming desire to prove myself to be a valued employee of my company. Part of this is not missing any time.

Since we're new to the area there are a plethora of appointments for my kids right now and one of them has ADD and PTSD which of course mean more doctors and more appointments. Dentist appointments, orthodontist evaluations, IEP meetings, home visits for preschool, psychologist, counselor, regular doctor's visits and a bunch I can't even think of right now.

Some things Hubby can handle, others require my attention because I'm the mom. I feel torn in so many different directions it's like I'm on the rack or something.

Other people seem to juggle this with ease while I feel like I'm in The Hunger Games and each district has offered up a doctor, dentist or teacher as tribute and my job's playing Gamemaker trying to bring us into conflict. If I manage to kill everyone the Gamemaker will reward me by letting me live and continue to be a productive employee while sacrificing the welfare of my children. If I don't kill everyone and instead make an alliance with them to go to all of the kids appointments the Gamemaker will get angry and attack me with things like balls of flame or tracker jackers or until I either die or get fired and fail my kids by not being able to support them. See? It's a die/die situation!

Where the hell are my berries?! 

You call it adult ADD, I call it....look a kitty!

My thoughts have a tendency to jump around like rabbits hopped up on cocaine and pixie sticks. Every once in a while one of these thoughts gets a little sticky (probably from the pixies sticks) and stays with me a while. Sometimes I even think the idea is good. One of these sticky little hopped up rabbit-ideas was to start a blog, and so I did.

Unlike many blogs who later get a facebook page too, I started as a facebook page and got a blog. I just found that sometimes I had too damn much to say about one thing or another. I'm certainly not a writer, and I'm not going to pretend to be. Like the stuff I post on facebook this content will mostly be whatever comes to mind in it's purest, unedited form (except for spelling and some grammatical quirks because that shit left alone makes me crazy.) It's not going to be the best writing but I will promise you that all of it will be real.

To give you a little insight, here's my description on my facebook page:

 I'm the Momma in a blended family of seven, yes, seven. Between my husband and I we have 5 children. My 19 year-old step-daughter lives away with her 3 year-old son. I have two boys from a previous marriage, 10 and 8 years-old. We share two daughters, ages 3 and 1.

This page is to share the ups and downs, the laughter and....well, mostly the laughter but let's not forget chaos of family life. Th

is page is meant for fun. I'm sure I'll get serious from time to time, but I try to keep those times to a minimum. Even the serious stuff I try to find a way to laugh at.

Here's my disclaimer....I'm occasionally, well...maybe a bit more than occasionally vulgar. Don't like it, don't like my page simple as that. Discussion is encouraged. Disrespect anyone or want to whine and complain you know where the fucking door is, if not I'll drag you there kicking, screaming and blocked all the way there. Any questions? That was rhetorical by the way, I've answered enough today :P

This blog will kind of follow the same format. I'll be posting here and on my facebook page. Sometimes it'll be funny, other times it might be a little more serious, a little closer to home, but mostly it'll be funny. 

That said, I'd like to give you a brief intro of the cast of real people, not like in The Real World, but actual people you'll see mentioned regularly here.

 Momma

The matriarch of the clan

Basics: Has a degree in art education. Spent the last few years working with special needs children and is currently working full time at a call center providing tech support.
Strengths: Sarcasm, ability to laugh at almost anything, oh yeah and there's that whole unconditional love thing.
Weaknesses: Organization, super organized with some things, completely not with others. Pepsi and junkfood. Faulty mouth-filter.

 Hubby

The paternal-type figure

Basics: Late 30's geek that does tech support and generally hates people.
Strengths: Movie buff, and knows almost all things geek, relates to kids because he is simply a large version.
Weaknesses: Hoards random shit. spends more time trying to get out of doing something than actually doing it

 The Professor

At 10, he's the oldest child still living at home 

Basics: At 10 he's my geeky little man, into Dr Who, Ben 10, Pokemon and video games. Like all 10 year-olds he thinks he knows everything about everything.
Strengths: Sensitive, mostly kind, bookworm, quirky, unique and just a bit awkward
Weaknesses: PTSD, ADD, and he can never keep his glasses from sliding down his nose.

Mischievous Middle

 The second boy in the line-up

Basics: At 8 years-old he's already been suspended and had the cops called on him, but in all honesty for doing normal, mischievous kid stuff like peeing on a USPS truck.
Strengths: He's a classic boy, give him a tree he'll climb it. He's the comic of the group.
Weaknesses: Trouble, he always seems to find it. He means well, but man!

Little Mother

Momma's mini

Basics: She's 3 and follows Momma and the brother's everywhere and tells everyone what to do in the cutest way possible
Strengths: She's independent and sassy, absolutely fearless. Not to mention adorable.
Weaknesses: Thinks she can get away with anything by batting her eyes and saying sorry, forgets she isn't in charge.

The Babe with the Power

 The youngest of our clan

 Basics: Just turned a year and has everyone wrapped around her teeny fingers.
Strengths: This pic doesn't do her adorable curls justice, they're so flipping cute I can't stand it! I could gobble her right up. She's the quietest of the bunch... most of the time, also the most cuddly
Weaknesses: Will eat anything off the floor regardless of age or edibility. Can out-scream almost anyone in the house when upset or excited.

StepN

My adult step-daughter

Basics: Collegiate single mother of a 3 year-old son
Strengths: Intellegent, sarcastic, making the very best out of being a teenage mom, doesn't care what others think
Weaknesses: Little on the Emo side, ok, more than a little

Junebug

StepN's 3 year-old son

Basics: The little man that changed my step-daughter's life
Strengths: Silly, rough-and-tumble little boy
Weaknesses: Can be a little temperamental

So there you have it. I may introduce more people, like my sister and dad and other important people, as they start making recurring appearances in my blog, but these are the biggies for now.