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Posts Tagged ‘Life’

My youngest made a Thanksgiving card for Cory and me.  The message contained within said, “Daddy, thank you for making me breakfast every morning.  Mommy, even though I don’t see you much, I still love you.”

Heartbreaking, because it’s true.

I’m in school full-time.  I’m working a job I love full-time.  Just over a year ago, I was doing neither.  I was home full-time.  I was mommying full-time.  I was available to the kids full-time.  I’m not anymore.

I don’t have to be working or going back to school.  I do love what I’m learning in school.  I think that this degree, hand-in-hand with the job I’m working, could really lead to a career that I love, that I’m good at, that makes me a better person.  I want to be a better person for me, for my family, for my friends, for my community, for my world.  I want that.  And, most of the time, I’m confident that this is worth it.

Sometimes, today, through the eyes of my youngest, I’m not so sure.

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A year ago tomorrow, Cory and I competed in our first triathlon.  And by competed I mean we were both like, “Hey!  Wouldn’t it be great if we finish this?!?!”  We did.  We finished it.  He completed it first, ran back toward me, and then we finished the run together.  It was a good feeling.

In the next 12 months, we completed 2 more triathlons, I did a 10 mile run and a half-marathon, and he did a full marathon.  We celebrated 20 years as a couple, and 15 years of marriage.  It was, in many ways, a successful year.

It was also a hard year.  Probably the hardest year of our marriage (and I don’t think that I thought anything would be harder than the year I gave birth to our second child and watched my father die all within 4 months).  I have battles I’m fighting.  I am still stuck in ditches.  These are dark and deep ditches that I dug myself and then, sometimes, soberly jumped into.  I’m still trying to crawl out in a lot of ways.  And Cory is still there fighting with me.  He’s been damaged by my recklessness, he’s fighting his own battles, and he’s still holding on to me when I can’t even tell him if he should.  When I tell him that I think it might be better for him if he didn’t.

And so, this year has been a lot like that first triathlon.  I didn’t know at the beginning of it that I would consider it a victory, a success, if we both just completed it, and completed it together.  I had no idea what this year would bring.  I don’t know what I would have done if I had known.

Some of sharing this is just processing for me.  Anniversaries of little things will be popping up, and I’m sure I’ll be back just to work things out here.  Maybe it’s just the beginning of that.  I’m also sharing because I went back recently and read my very first post here. While I’ve not always been consistently writing (hello, 2010?), I do want to keep true to one of the main purposes.  I want to be honest.  Honestly, there have been some amazingly good things happening in our lives.  So much to be thankful for.  But, also, some days are just really hard.  I know we’re not the only ones.  I know so many of you are finding it hard some days to just make it out the door and interact with the world, all the while counting down the minutes until you can pull shut the blackout curtains, crawl in bed, pull the comforter over your head, and cocoon yourself for a bit.  And, I just want you to know that you aren’t the only one, either.

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“Mommy, in the summer we can use those water guns again!”  Luke spots the toys in the basement, where they hibernate through the long winter.

In his five year old reality, summer seems another lifetime away.  Outside, snowflakes are rapidly falling to the sidewalks.  He’s home from another grueling week of Kindergarten, already changed out of his uniform and into his jammies.  He sits at the table, sipping hot chocolate.  It’s a great day, because he gets marshmallows AND whipped cream.  Life doesn’t get much better.  In his eyes, these chilly days are far removed from the pool and suntanned days of summer.

For me, it will be like the blink of an eye until their little browned bodies are running barefoot through the grass.  Just a quick flip of the calendar, and we’ll be seeing swimming lessons and days dedicated to the splashpark  littering the schedule.    Boots will be packed away, and socks will be forgotten for a season.  Bring out the Crocs and the flip-flops and we’ll all be ready to go.

Mommy time is so much different than kid time.  I sometimes feel like their birthdays come around weekly, and the time between Christmases seems to be only a matter of a few months.  Everyone told us that their growing up would fly by; told us until we were about to lose our patience hearing it.  Really, how many times can you politely smile at the same inane statement?  We knew it would be true; we know it has been true.  And yet, the reality of it seems to almost defy the laws of chronology.

So, in what will feel like a breath to me, and a lifetime to him, my little boy will trade his snowsuit and gloves for swimtrunks and goggles.  We’ll have a spring, summer and fall full of new friends, new activities, and far too many photos than the kids will ever want to entertain.  And a year from now, with the snowflakes falling and the cocoa steaming, I’ll wonder again, “How in the world has another year gone by?”

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