I’m finding that my unhappiness stems from the commotion and agitation of some of the other people around me. My ex-husband and his fiance battling first degree murder charges in court and the effect on my kids and I. The change wave at work, that while overall positive, is causing many around me to feel uncomfortable, threatened even.  But these things….they’re not mine to own.  This is not my commotion or unrest.  Finding a way to ensure that my heart and mind stay serene and calm while paddling through other people’s storms…that’s the challenge.

So for my next 12 months, I’ll be thinking, living, breathing, tranquility.  My house will be a tranquil reserve for my children to forget about the drama in their father’s life. My office will be a quiet reserve for others to come, work through the changes, find the beauty in making more of a historic company. I will work to make my mind calm, collected in my thoughts, and un-panicked by those around me. And my heart will remain still with the knowledge that I’ve found someone who walks through life with me, holding my hand, encouraging me to be more, while assuring me that I am and always will be enough.

Baseball season is a true commitment, even for me. Practices, games, driving here and there. Laundry three times a week to be sure his uniform is always clean. It’s a commitment for Will.  When other kids are going to the pool during they day, he stays home on game days so that he’s not too tired to play. When you get to the field, you have to be up. You have to be ready. The heat can’t hold you back. Rain can’t hold you back. You have to have desire. He does…every day. Every year, I wonder, will he not want to play this year.  Is this the year he grows tired of the commitment, of the rigor, of the effort…and every year, he’s eager and excited to sign up.

This year was no different. He played hard. He improved.

I was proud of him.

I was proud of the team.

I was proud of the coaches.

Until last night.

The head coach was out. The team was playing for third place against a select team. They’d beat this team before and could do it again. They were up 8 to 3 at the top of the 4th inning. My son rode the bench. By the middle of the 5th inning, he came over to the end of the dugout and asked the crowd if he was “the worst baseball player ever” and broke into tears. This still breaks my heart.  This team is a pay to play team. They are not select. It’s about teaching young men to learn and love baseball. Sometimes winning happens, sometimes it doesn’t.  But the back-up coaches didn’t get that last night.  They failed to play about 4 or 5 of the boys fairly, because they’re not the STAR players.  They took a time out and removed a player from right field when a left handed batter came up. They broke the spirit of the boys that had gotten them to the semi-finals.  Even the good players, saw what was happening and weren’t happy about it.  They went too far for the win.

I know some people wished all season long that the head coach had done more reprimanding or held more practices, to make the boys EVEN BETTER.  But this coach understood that his job was to keep the boys improving, interested and enjoying the game. He taught them that they win as a team and they lose as a team.  These other coaches forgot that.  These other coaches, in a few thoughtless actions and words, crushed the dreams of impressionable boys on the verge of becoming men. Through their actions, they taught the boys that you can sacrifice anything as long as you want to win enough. That’s not why my son plays baseball. He plays for the uniform. He plays for his team. He plays for the love of the game.   I love seeing him in his uniform. I love watching the boys learn over the course of the season how to play like a team.

Go Royals!

Mike’s been gone for a couple of days now and with the kids sick, it’s felt like a week.  He’s traveled before. I travel for work.  The being apart thing stinks, but we are used to it. But this time it was different. This time the kids felt his absense. This time, we made decisions to not do our “typical” thing because he wasn’t here. The kids decided we should watch a movie because Mike isn’t here to watch Big Bang Theory with us. We just made a big plate of nachos to share because we couldn’t have chicken taco night without it’s inventor. 

And with that I realized, that all these worries about the wedding…meh! Who cares?!?!? Our family is strong and established already.  Mike and I, we…are already committed, forever. The kids and I are no longer a family without Mike. The three of us are incomplete without him.  What used to be my kids and I…always together….just the three of us…a complete little lopsided family…is now no longer lopsided, because of him. I’ve known him for 18 years, I know for a fact NO ONE has ever referred to Mike as the one to bring balance.  We’re lucky, this dynamic works for all of us.

And so tonight, a mere 77 wake ups before the wedding day, I know that our marriage will be strong, because it’s foundation is solid.  The land we’re building forever on is firm.  Sure there will some heaving with the changes in seasons, however, I know that should we develop cracks along the way, we’ve learned not to mask them with a little putty and paint…but to resolve the issue.  Just like drywall, we’ll take all the right steps to fix the problem. It will be a hell of a mess, but so worth it in the long run. Consequently, since our Sunday morning routine (when it’s not football season) is to watch Holmes Inspection…we know how to do it right.

This kid is brilliant.

This kid is loving.

This kid is wise beyond his years.

This kid is hilarious.

He can tell a story like only his grandfather can.

He loves learning about historical things.

He loves math.

This kid loves science.

This kid has never met a book he didn’t love.

This kid is a black belt.

This kid is a pretty good baseball player.

He has developed into a strong runner

He loves our dogs.

He loves our family.

He takes care of his sister.

This kid helps his mom and his soon to be step dad.

This kid admires his dad and his step-siblings.

This kid is unorganized.

This kid is a master negotiator.

He doesn’t understand that he can’t negotiate with adults.

He doesn’t know when to quit.

He is still young and immature and sometimes I forget that.

He is frustratingly slow.

And he is SO hard to parent.

This kid is so much like me and so much like his father…and I just wish it was easier to make life easier for him.

I had a meeting last night with a wedding coordinator. We talked about how I envisioned the day. We talked about how little I wanted to spend. We looked at things I like and things I don’t. 
She turned my thoughts and little ideas into a vision. As we only spent an hour together, I’m starting to picture the day. It’s amazing.

I thougt wedding coordinators were silly, expensive and created over the top elaborate BRIDEZILLA type weddings. However, today I realize that wedding coordinators make dreams and little bits of ideas real…and it’s very exciting.

Love is sweet.  It wraps its arms around you, just because it can. Love grows stronger because you are within it. Love is constant and kind. It picks you up when you’re down. It makes you smile when that’s the last thing you want to do. It lifts you up because it knows that you are always stronger than you think you are. Love believes in you. Love knows who you are. Love defends you. Love strengthens you. Love tucks you in when you’re tired and gets you out of bed each morning. Love hopes for the best for you, whatever that might mean.

Love is hard. It takes patience and perseverence. It means trusting that what love says is true. Love chooses its battles. It does not fight just to be right. It means knowing that each disagreement isn’t personal. Love learns from each fight and strives to be better because of it.

Love does not hurt. It won’t kick, punch or scar. Love does not punish. It does not scorn or condescend. Love does not wait for you to be something more, love accepts you as you are. Love does not scare you out of being yourself. It knows that you are perfect just the way you are. Love cannot hate.

I do not shelter my children from EVERYTHING. They were there when we had to put our beloved lab down. But, I allowed them to chose when and how they wanted to participate.  Life is hard, but children are innocent and I believe they should be allowed to be that way as long as they’re willing.In my house, for now, my middle schooler still believes in the tooth fairy, the easter bunny and santa claus. I know that he knows better, but he wants these things to still be magical and real and he’s 11, I’m not ready to tell him he can’t have that.  He has lots of years left for life to real, non-magical and, quite frankly, hard. My daughter is a natural worrier. If there are storm clouds in the sky, she’s concerned about tornados. She tells herself that if the clouds are in certain areas of the sky, that means the storm is not going to come our way. I don’t always correct her, if I know it’s just going to rain after she goes to bed, what’s the harm in letting her feel comfort.

But at his house, my son is allowed to play Call of Duty and see Resident Evil, because her son does. In my house, this is a no-go. Who needs to see the digital representation of war or truly horror filled moments when you can play baseball with guys with no arms. At his house, my daughter was told that she will get breast cancer some day because my maternal grandmother had it and eventually died from it.  In my house, they know that Grandma Birdie taught me how to quilt and sew, made them so many things in their infancy, and loved them more than they will ever remember.  At his house, my children were told that nothing “Australian” could come into the house, because her ex is from there…and they hate that. In my house, we love and embrace truly Australian things, like koala bears, kangaroos, and Crocodile Dundee. At his house, they know that their dad and his girlfriend met on Match.com and that they will likely never get married again, because that just ends in divorce and divorce is ugly. In my house, they learn that Mike loves them as if they were his own children and that he is committed to both them and me. They know that we will plan the wedding together and that we will all go into this relationship knowing that divorce is not an option.

It breaks my heart to hear some things that my children hear or know or do when they are not with me.  And it’s so hard to choose which battles are worth fighting and which are better left alone. All I know how to do is love them fiercely when they’re with me and do everything I can to let them be little.  I regret that I cannot protect them as often as my heart desperately wants to.

What?  You don’t agree? Well I have PROOF!  Let me lay out the facts for you.

About 3 months ago, the man approached me about starting a kickboxing class at 6 am EVERY morning (except Sunday, my new favorite day) I agreed at the time, and also may have mentioned that it would be the end of our then very active sex life.  It was all bravado.  All smack talk.  Just trying to get a rise out of him, if you know what I mean. 

It was tough, and getting used to getting up at very early o’clock did hamper things quite a bit.  I mean morning sex was out, because we were barely awake as we’d stumble out to the truck at 5:30 am.  Evening sex was out because we were staring at each other at 7:30 hoping we could convince the kids it was much later and that they needed to go to bed.  By the time the kids were actually asleep in bed, we’d already been mentally asleep for  hours.  Eventually, we worked out a new routine some mornings, but it just wasn’t what it once had been.  And then came RAGBRAI.  (For those of you who don’t  know, it’s a week long 500+ mile bicycle ride across Iowa.  It’s 1/3 bicycling, 1/3 beer, and 1/3 fresh baked pie)  I didn’t go, but the man did.  And he returned a broken man.  I don’t know if you can imagine what happens to a guy who’s riding his bicycle about 65 miles a day for 7 days in a row…but yeah, that.  Now, when he’s driving me crazy, I can call him “numb nuts” and he can’t complain.  *WIN*

Many of you might be saying, that doesn’t seem like it would be all bad.  And in fact, there is an upside…when we do find time to “get a little”, it’s never over quickly….EVER.  So, the quickies that were getting us through the day…GONE. 

So don’t exercise folks….it messes with your routine, it numbs your ass and other useful areas, it steals your energy for even a quickie before bed. 

I’m telling you friends, this exercise crap is deadly…it can kill your sex life faster than you can say…numb nuts.  So I’m back to surfing the web for a spectacular new “battery operated boyfriend” for me and a urologist for him. 

If I can save even one happy sex life or prevent just one pair of balls from going completely and utterly numb, by sharing my story, well then I have done my part…

Thinking only of naked Ryan Reynolds sans crushed nuts you

Angi

Some days, that bar I set seems so far out of my reach.  I lose my temper.  I yell when I should just walk away.  I don’t leave us enough time and get all panicky and shouty when we’re running late.  I CAN’T. STAND. THEIR. FIGHTING…and so I send them to their rooms for alone time, or make them sit on the couch and hold hands until I’m no longer frustrated.  I forget things…lunches, bookfair  money, early school dismissals, you know the drill.  My biggest regret in my children’s life is that they will, for the rest of their lives, have two homes.  In the days when my divorce was imminent, I don’t think that in my mind, I could even see the bar from where I was. But I made sure that I found a place that would be home for them.  They each had their own room with their name over the door.  There would be no mistake that they belonged and that it was home.  It seems that it never gets easier, sharing custody of them.  I never want to see them go.  I call them every night they’re with their father.  I regret not being able to read to them before bed (yes, even at 11 and 7 we still do that) tuck them in those nights and kiss my daughter’s head or ruffly my son’s hair.  I am sad because I know that their father does not do these things with them. 

What I have learned is that in this quest for the perfect mother award, I have tripped and fallen on my face more than I care to admit.  I regret that I have to share my time with them and them with me.  I have to be careful not to let these small moments keep me down.    Because, what I do know is this…

I am the best mother for them that I know how to be.

I love them unconditionally.

Children need both a mother and a father…and while he may not nurture them like I do…I sure as hell am not going to pick up a snake and teach them all that I can about it.

No matter how much I want it, I will never be perfect;  no one is.  But I do know that I am the perfect mother for my children.

I may never win Mother of the Year accolades, but when my children look back on their childhood, they will remember me.  Always by their side. Cheering them on. Teaching them right from wrong.  Holding their hands.  Treating their wounds. Laughing with them.  Loving them wholly for who they are.  For that, I will gladly accept an Honorable Mention.