Showing posts with label mothering. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mothering. Show all posts
Saturday, June 05, 2010
Ok moms
Are you a mom of a child with special needs? No? Well are you a MOM? If you're here reading, and you're a mom, or you want to be a mom, or your sister is a mom, or you HAD a mom, then you might want to read this. What an interesting perspective!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
How others see me
Ok...so I'm sitting here with tears in my eyes, and a little bit...well...I don't know what, really.
You've been reading about my epic journey, and I'm sure you're probably tired of it by now. (though I'm not done with it! Just taking a thinking break! LOL)
Most bikers name their bike, and their bikes are either male or female. No...really...this is how it works. You just have a "feel" for the gender of your bike. I knew my bike was male, but I was still working on his name. Nothing was feeling right. I'd been calling him "Red" because...well he IS red. But I knew that wasn't his forever name. And then I added the sidecar which needs it's own name, complicating things since the names have to somehow go together. And, the sidecar is definitely female.
While on the Epic Journey the discussion of bike names came up. (as I'm writing this, I see it I'm getting off on a totally different subject than the title of the post.) As we spent the trip laughing, joking and getting to know each other, we also learned the personalities of each bike. We even PRAYED for a name for my bike. No...really.
Finally it came to us. I think it came to Tink, but I really don't remember. We named him "Nooner", and sometime over the winter I'll have his name emblazoned somewhere on his body. Nooner for the quick rides I can take when I need to. (both in the literal and figurative sense.)
But I still needed to name the sidecar. Bev and I left the others in Sault Ste. Marie, MI and headed south west to home. Somewhere along the way, little tubby's name popped into my head as I rounded a particularly beautiful corner. "Spank". Spank is the little sidekick. A companion when I need one. Secure in herself to keep my little rider safe.
Nooner and Spank....my ride...That's how I see my bike.
But how do others see me? (Ha! You thought I'd have trouble getting back to the title, didn't you?) Do you ever wonder that? How others see you? Well, this morning my friend Tink added another blog entry about the Epic Journey. (she's a brand new blogger and it took awhile to convince her she could do this, so she's a bit behind.) Today's entry is about us...the women who went on the epic journey with her. For some reason her entry about me made me cry. It's taken me a few minutes to figure out why, but I have. First of all, she GETS me! There are very few people on the world who totally understand me. I'm not even completely sure my own mother understands me, but Tink does. That's because Tink is me with a (much) smaller body, longer hair, living on the east coast instead of Minnesota. Secondly...she totally hit the nail on the head. If you know me in person, you'll see she's right on. If you've never met me before, you can now know exactly who I am.
You've been reading about my epic journey, and I'm sure you're probably tired of it by now. (though I'm not done with it! Just taking a thinking break! LOL)
Most bikers name their bike, and their bikes are either male or female. No...really...this is how it works. You just have a "feel" for the gender of your bike. I knew my bike was male, but I was still working on his name. Nothing was feeling right. I'd been calling him "Red" because...well he IS red. But I knew that wasn't his forever name. And then I added the sidecar which needs it's own name, complicating things since the names have to somehow go together. And, the sidecar is definitely female.
While on the Epic Journey the discussion of bike names came up. (as I'm writing this, I see it I'm getting off on a totally different subject than the title of the post.) As we spent the trip laughing, joking and getting to know each other, we also learned the personalities of each bike. We even PRAYED for a name for my bike. No...really.
Finally it came to us. I think it came to Tink, but I really don't remember. We named him "Nooner", and sometime over the winter I'll have his name emblazoned somewhere on his body. Nooner for the quick rides I can take when I need to. (both in the literal and figurative sense.)
But I still needed to name the sidecar. Bev and I left the others in Sault Ste. Marie, MI and headed south west to home. Somewhere along the way, little tubby's name popped into my head as I rounded a particularly beautiful corner. "Spank". Spank is the little sidekick. A companion when I need one. Secure in herself to keep my little rider safe.
Nooner and Spank....my ride...That's how I see my bike.
But how do others see me? (Ha! You thought I'd have trouble getting back to the title, didn't you?) Do you ever wonder that? How others see you? Well, this morning my friend Tink added another blog entry about the Epic Journey. (she's a brand new blogger and it took awhile to convince her she could do this, so she's a bit behind.) Today's entry is about us...the women who went on the epic journey with her. For some reason her entry about me made me cry. It's taken me a few minutes to figure out why, but I have. First of all, she GETS me! There are very few people on the world who totally understand me. I'm not even completely sure my own mother understands me, but Tink does. That's because Tink is me with a (much) smaller body, longer hair, living on the east coast instead of Minnesota. Secondly...she totally hit the nail on the head. If you know me in person, you'll see she's right on. If you've never met me before, you can now know exactly who I am.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Mother's Tears
It's not until we become mothers ourselves that we understand the tears a mother cries for her children.
Noah, my firstborn. As he was placed in my arms and I felt, for the first time, the joy only a mother can feel. He is the only one who got those very first mother's tears. They carried with them a bond only he and I can share. I cried tears of fear when, as a toddler, his finger was amputated in an accident, and tears of anguish as I handed him over to the surgeon to have it re-attached. When he was two I cried tears of delight when I found him dragging wet worms around on the driveway, and when I asked what he was doing he told me, "I'm painting!". When he was 12 I cried tears of "Why him?" when we were told he'd need to give himself shots every day, and tears of frustration when at 14 he suddenly refused to do them anymore. I cried tears of sorrow for the teenager who ran away from home several times, and tears of gratitude when he returned safely. There were the tears of pride when I saw my handsome boy dressed for prom, and more at graduation. He'll be 21 soon. My tears for Noah will continue as I watch him struggle his way through adulthood, as I'm sure my mother still cries for me.
Tyler, the middle child. I spent 3 months crying when Tyler was born. He came into this world confused and angry, as if he was upset about having been ripped out of the nice warm cocoon he'd had all to himself. My tears for Tyler were usually in frustration, not knowing how to help him, how to make him feel comfortable in this world that required touch. Tears of sorrow for the boy who struggled to be understood and would repeat himself over and over again until we finally were able to put together what he was trying to say. There were sad, helpless tears as I held him down for repeated blood draws to figure out why his blood cells were different from everyone else's, and tears of apology when I was able to comfort him afterwards. There were lots of tears of joy for Tyler too! Like when he was finally able to say his own name, and when he walked on his feet instead of his knees. Tears of pride at his ability to understand words far bigger than him, like "bioluminescence". There were the tears of fear when mental illness reared it's ugly head and we learned more than we ever cared to about the world of psychiatric care. Really though, those tears of fear and frustration that flowed from me for Tyler were prayerful tears, asking God to show me how to help my son. Now at 19 I see a wonderful young man with a heart of gold. Caring and thoughtful, he holds a place in my heart that no other can ever have. I know I have years of tears for Tyler ahead of me, but for now, when I cry for Tyler, I cry tears of pride as I watch this amazing young man.
When Angela was a baby, I cried many tears for her. Tears of "Why me? Why HER?". Tears of sorrow as we were given bad news over and over again. Tears of fear as I handed over over to the surgeon time and time again. At 8 years old, when I cried at her first her track meet, she asked me, "Why crying mom?" How do you explain to a child you're crying because as she runs across the finish line, you remembered a doctors voice telling you she'd never live past a year old. "Why are you crying mom?" after her recent theater performance. Those tears of pride for my baby, for all the hard work she put in, this child who would likely never talk. "Why are you crying mom?" as she leaps fearlessly into the deep end of the pool and comes to the surface with a huge grin on her face. "Did you see me mom? Did you see?". Tears of thanks to God for allowing me to see this beautiful, wonderful child of mine.
A mother's tears. Joy, sorrow, fear, gratitude, love, happiness. All the things mothers cry about. I'm so thankful to Him for allowing to shed mother's tears.
Noah, my firstborn. As he was placed in my arms and I felt, for the first time, the joy only a mother can feel. He is the only one who got those very first mother's tears. They carried with them a bond only he and I can share. I cried tears of fear when, as a toddler, his finger was amputated in an accident, and tears of anguish as I handed him over to the surgeon to have it re-attached. When he was two I cried tears of delight when I found him dragging wet worms around on the driveway, and when I asked what he was doing he told me, "I'm painting!". When he was 12 I cried tears of "Why him?" when we were told he'd need to give himself shots every day, and tears of frustration when at 14 he suddenly refused to do them anymore. I cried tears of sorrow for the teenager who ran away from home several times, and tears of gratitude when he returned safely. There were the tears of pride when I saw my handsome boy dressed for prom, and more at graduation. He'll be 21 soon. My tears for Noah will continue as I watch him struggle his way through adulthood, as I'm sure my mother still cries for me.
Tyler, the middle child. I spent 3 months crying when Tyler was born. He came into this world confused and angry, as if he was upset about having been ripped out of the nice warm cocoon he'd had all to himself. My tears for Tyler were usually in frustration, not knowing how to help him, how to make him feel comfortable in this world that required touch. Tears of sorrow for the boy who struggled to be understood and would repeat himself over and over again until we finally were able to put together what he was trying to say. There were sad, helpless tears as I held him down for repeated blood draws to figure out why his blood cells were different from everyone else's, and tears of apology when I was able to comfort him afterwards. There were lots of tears of joy for Tyler too! Like when he was finally able to say his own name, and when he walked on his feet instead of his knees. Tears of pride at his ability to understand words far bigger than him, like "bioluminescence". There were the tears of fear when mental illness reared it's ugly head and we learned more than we ever cared to about the world of psychiatric care. Really though, those tears of fear and frustration that flowed from me for Tyler were prayerful tears, asking God to show me how to help my son. Now at 19 I see a wonderful young man with a heart of gold. Caring and thoughtful, he holds a place in my heart that no other can ever have. I know I have years of tears for Tyler ahead of me, but for now, when I cry for Tyler, I cry tears of pride as I watch this amazing young man.
When Angela was a baby, I cried many tears for her. Tears of "Why me? Why HER?". Tears of sorrow as we were given bad news over and over again. Tears of fear as I handed over over to the surgeon time and time again. At 8 years old, when I cried at her first her track meet, she asked me, "Why crying mom?" How do you explain to a child you're crying because as she runs across the finish line, you remembered a doctors voice telling you she'd never live past a year old. "Why are you crying mom?" after her recent theater performance. Those tears of pride for my baby, for all the hard work she put in, this child who would likely never talk. "Why are you crying mom?" as she leaps fearlessly into the deep end of the pool and comes to the surface with a huge grin on her face. "Did you see me mom? Did you see?". Tears of thanks to God for allowing me to see this beautiful, wonderful child of mine.
A mother's tears. Joy, sorrow, fear, gratitude, love, happiness. All the things mothers cry about. I'm so thankful to Him for allowing to shed mother's tears.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
So Where's the Kid?
UGH! I'm sorry this has taken me so long to update you on this aspect of my life: MY SON IS HOME!
On March 10th the mother of the other boy called me, and said that the bus tickets had indeed been picked up, however the person who took the signature couldn't remember what the person looked like, and nobody could find the signature page. (isn't there a reason you have to sign for mail? I'm assuming they're supposed to KEEP that stuff!?!?!)
So we called and called, and neither her son nor Tyler answered their phones. Do you wanna know why?
Are you ready for it?.......................................THEY WANTED TO SURPRISE EVERYONE!!!
Good grief! They had no idea how worried everyone was, and were a bit taken aback when the father of the other kid tracked down Greyhound's dispatch office, and was finally put through to the driver, who got the boys on the phone in the middle of the Grand Canyon! LOL
They ended up pulling into town the morning I broke my arm. Talk about timing! I really needed Tyler here to help me with his sister while I was dealing with my arm and stuff. He's been a great help! And, it looks like he'll be staying here awhile. He's decided (and we fully agree) that he's not quite ready to live on his own yet. He needs to save some money, get a car, and have all those little details worked out before he makes the leap again. So, we've set up a budget for him, and a short term plan (that's all he can manage right now, short term) and we'll work through this from there.
So, the kid is HOME, and the mom is much happier!
On March 10th the mother of the other boy called me, and said that the bus tickets had indeed been picked up, however the person who took the signature couldn't remember what the person looked like, and nobody could find the signature page. (isn't there a reason you have to sign for mail? I'm assuming they're supposed to KEEP that stuff!?!?!)
So we called and called, and neither her son nor Tyler answered their phones. Do you wanna know why?
Are you ready for it?.......................................THEY WANTED TO SURPRISE EVERYONE!!!
Good grief! They had no idea how worried everyone was, and were a bit taken aback when the father of the other kid tracked down Greyhound's dispatch office, and was finally put through to the driver, who got the boys on the phone in the middle of the Grand Canyon! LOL
They ended up pulling into town the morning I broke my arm. Talk about timing! I really needed Tyler here to help me with his sister while I was dealing with my arm and stuff. He's been a great help! And, it looks like he'll be staying here awhile. He's decided (and we fully agree) that he's not quite ready to live on his own yet. He needs to save some money, get a car, and have all those little details worked out before he makes the leap again. So, we've set up a budget for him, and a short term plan (that's all he can manage right now, short term) and we'll work through this from there.
So, the kid is HOME, and the mom is much happier!
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