Every year for the past 5 years, I dread the month of March. You would think that 5 years would be enough time to recover and to get on with things, and mostly I have. I hardly ever think about my miscarriage anymore. And when I do, I tend to be rather philosophical about it. After all, I have my hands full with three very active boys.
If I hadn't miscarried Therese, I would have been 8 months pregnant when I had the bleed in my brain. My blood pressure probably would have been higher at that point, and higher blood pressure = more bleeding. I would have probably been sectioned. That would have left my family with me in the neuro intensive care unit and a baby in the nicu. So yes, I can be very rational about the whole thing.
But then March rolls around. I realize I am crying for no reason. I'm cranky. I am tired. I feel hormonal. And, ah-ha!! The light bulb comes on. This is the month. THE Month.
It's the month when so many things came tumbling down around my ears. It's the month when I realized that my body could fail. I could lose a child within the blink of the eye with no warning. It's the month I realized how fragile life could be.
It's the month when the fears for my living children are quadrupled. When the bus is late, I start to feel panicky. I peak in their room numerous times in the night just to make sure they're all OK. I call from work to make sure they're all home from school. After all, if I can't keep a child in my womb safe, how am I going to keep the ones that are jumping out of trees and forgetting to put their helmets on when they ride their bikes safe.Out the door runs rationality and philosophy!
I just need to make it through March and into April. That's when spring will start. The birds and frogs will start their love songs. And the lilac, that we planted on Mother's Day in memory of Therese, will start to leaf out.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Blood in the water.
Did you know that sharks have been around 420 million years? Did you also know that some sharks can detect 1 part per million of blood in water? And it's said that many sharks can hear splashing about from miles away.
I think my children may be part shark. I'm currently bleeding extreme exhaustion into the water. I am also thrashing about in the depths of a headache. I'm telling you, they knew this from the minute I woke up this morning.
My oldest son, Collin, seems to be the most sensitive to this phenomenon. Perhaps it develops with age or perhaps it's his super power. Maybe, like hearing or touch senses increase in a blind person, assessing people's feelings is the way Collin compensates for his other disabilities. But whatever it is it's eerily accurate. He was in rare form from the moment he woke up.
Yesterday he lost his 15 minutes of Wii time because he had, for the second time that day, been caught sneaking bites of cheese directly out of the block. This really wouldn't have been such an issue if he wasn't sensitive to dairy. But, alas, he is and he is well aware of this fact.
So, when he woke up this morning, this was the first thing on his mind. Persistence may also be an outcome of some of his struggles. So, as I stumbled down the stairs, he was already complaining to Chris about the absolute horror that his mother would be so unfair as to take away the Wii for the day. Then he turned and found the offending party sitting tired and achy from a night without sleep, and he smelled the blood in the water.
It started out quietly, circling his prey from afar, trying to assess how incapacitated I was. Muttering under his breath while casting glares in my direction. Then it began to build as he circled closer and closer. "You're so mean." he stated. "It's not fair." he announced. "GIVE ME BACK MY TIME, YOU BIG MEANIE" he screamed.
I ignored the tantruming. Then I looked beseechingly at Chris and told him my head hurt. It seems this confirmed Collin's suspicion that I was in a weakened state and the attack began. Marching into the room, he screamed, "YOU'RE MEAN, MEAN, MEAN! IT'S NOT FAIR! GIVE ME BACK MY TIME!!"
Suffice it to say the tantruming continued on and off for a long while. I asked the boys to play outside and again, "I was mean and not fair." Then Collin went outside slamming the door over and over again, until finally, in my weakened state, I reacted. I sent him to his room where he continued to yell and scream and tantrum and push every single button I had.
I decided it was time for a feint at stregnth. I sat ignoring every yell, mumble and scream. I ignored the slamming door. I ignored the clothes thrown down the stairs. And slowly, very slowly, the shark started losing interest. Perhaps he had misinterpreted. Perhaps the prey wasn't truly weakened enough to go in for the kill. Perhaps, just perhaps, his mother was coming around and her stregnth had returned. Perhaps it was time to give up and find something else to entertain himself with.
Success! He sits quietly reading a book, as if nothing ever happened. Unfortunately, his youngest brother, Thomas has not given up. He is down stairs jumping on his brothers, ignoring their pleas to stop. Waiting for my reaction. Knowing that ignoring bad attention seeking behavior is even more exhausting then reacting to it. Knowing Collin has already started the process of weakening the prey. I don't think that sharks hunt in packs, but perhaps this is a new evolved behavior?
I need a nap. I need some ibuprofen. Most importantly, I need a shark suit, a padded sound proof shark suit.
I think my children may be part shark. I'm currently bleeding extreme exhaustion into the water. I am also thrashing about in the depths of a headache. I'm telling you, they knew this from the minute I woke up this morning.
My oldest son, Collin, seems to be the most sensitive to this phenomenon. Perhaps it develops with age or perhaps it's his super power. Maybe, like hearing or touch senses increase in a blind person, assessing people's feelings is the way Collin compensates for his other disabilities. But whatever it is it's eerily accurate. He was in rare form from the moment he woke up.
Yesterday he lost his 15 minutes of Wii time because he had, for the second time that day, been caught sneaking bites of cheese directly out of the block. This really wouldn't have been such an issue if he wasn't sensitive to dairy. But, alas, he is and he is well aware of this fact.
So, when he woke up this morning, this was the first thing on his mind. Persistence may also be an outcome of some of his struggles. So, as I stumbled down the stairs, he was already complaining to Chris about the absolute horror that his mother would be so unfair as to take away the Wii for the day. Then he turned and found the offending party sitting tired and achy from a night without sleep, and he smelled the blood in the water.
It started out quietly, circling his prey from afar, trying to assess how incapacitated I was. Muttering under his breath while casting glares in my direction. Then it began to build as he circled closer and closer. "You're so mean." he stated. "It's not fair." he announced. "GIVE ME BACK MY TIME, YOU BIG MEANIE" he screamed.
I ignored the tantruming. Then I looked beseechingly at Chris and told him my head hurt. It seems this confirmed Collin's suspicion that I was in a weakened state and the attack began. Marching into the room, he screamed, "YOU'RE MEAN, MEAN, MEAN! IT'S NOT FAIR! GIVE ME BACK MY TIME!!"
Suffice it to say the tantruming continued on and off for a long while. I asked the boys to play outside and again, "I was mean and not fair." Then Collin went outside slamming the door over and over again, until finally, in my weakened state, I reacted. I sent him to his room where he continued to yell and scream and tantrum and push every single button I had.
I decided it was time for a feint at stregnth. I sat ignoring every yell, mumble and scream. I ignored the slamming door. I ignored the clothes thrown down the stairs. And slowly, very slowly, the shark started losing interest. Perhaps he had misinterpreted. Perhaps the prey wasn't truly weakened enough to go in for the kill. Perhaps, just perhaps, his mother was coming around and her stregnth had returned. Perhaps it was time to give up and find something else to entertain himself with.
Success! He sits quietly reading a book, as if nothing ever happened. Unfortunately, his youngest brother, Thomas has not given up. He is down stairs jumping on his brothers, ignoring their pleas to stop. Waiting for my reaction. Knowing that ignoring bad attention seeking behavior is even more exhausting then reacting to it. Knowing Collin has already started the process of weakening the prey. I don't think that sharks hunt in packs, but perhaps this is a new evolved behavior?
I need a nap. I need some ibuprofen. Most importantly, I need a shark suit, a padded sound proof shark suit.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
10 days of freedom and silence!
That's right! All three of my boys are in summer camp for two weeks from 9 am until 3 pm. Now don't get me wrong. I love my boys madly. But I do crave a peacefulness that does not often exist in a house with 3 boys ranging from 5 yrs-10 yrs old.
Someone is always running, jumping or bouncing something. Someone is always needing a snack, a drink, or a bandaid. Someone always has to pee when I'm washing my face or poop when I'm in the shower. If I'm on the phone, Collin absolutely has to practice his viola at that exact moment. Or Jack decides that he absolutely hates everyone and has to scream that through the house as his brothers absolutely have to follow him to torture him. Or Thomas absolutely has to have a snuggle that consists of him climbing on my head and blowing raspberries in my face. Nope, not an ounce of peace and quiet can be squeezed out of this household.
I have to admit that as much as I was looking forward to camp, I was also worried about how smoothly it would go. Thomas had only been to a half day soccer camp last year. Even then, I had to stay for half of it or he would cry. I was also having some separation anxiety about leaving my last baby for a full day. My baby!!
But all went surprisingly well. We got the kids dressed. Made their lunches and snack. Made sure they had their bathing suits and towels. We slathered them with sunblock and made it out the door in plenty of time. We got to the camp. Chris and I signed the boys in . Brought them to their groups. Met their counselors. Gave them kisses, and off we went with no tears, not even mine!
When we hit the sidewalk, I had this sudden feeling of absolute bliss! I was going home. Chris was going to work, and I was going to be all alone, in a silent house. Silence for 6 hours. Well, it wasn't completely silent. There was a gentle warm rain pitter pattering on the butterfly bush outside of my wide open windows. There was a slight breeze drifting the subtle flower scent into the house.
I didn't clean. I didn't think about cleaning. I didn't feel bad about cleaning. I sat and listened to the rain. I read my book. I watched the birds out at the bird feeder. I took a bath. And most importantly, I dozed by the open window. Heaven!!
3 o'clock rolled around and I realised I missed my boys! I couldn't wait to pick up my little angels. They were all thrilled to see me. Thomas insisted on extra snuggles when we got home, which was great! I needed them too. They didn't fight on the way home. They were tired out and watched a movie until dinner. Ate dinner and off to bed they went.
That of course only covered the first day. I'll leave you on that good note and won't meander into the last 4 days of a less than perfect experience. But let's face it, one perfect day is better than none!!
Someone is always running, jumping or bouncing something. Someone is always needing a snack, a drink, or a bandaid. Someone always has to pee when I'm washing my face or poop when I'm in the shower. If I'm on the phone, Collin absolutely has to practice his viola at that exact moment. Or Jack decides that he absolutely hates everyone and has to scream that through the house as his brothers absolutely have to follow him to torture him. Or Thomas absolutely has to have a snuggle that consists of him climbing on my head and blowing raspberries in my face. Nope, not an ounce of peace and quiet can be squeezed out of this household.
I have to admit that as much as I was looking forward to camp, I was also worried about how smoothly it would go. Thomas had only been to a half day soccer camp last year. Even then, I had to stay for half of it or he would cry. I was also having some separation anxiety about leaving my last baby for a full day. My baby!!
But all went surprisingly well. We got the kids dressed. Made their lunches and snack. Made sure they had their bathing suits and towels. We slathered them with sunblock and made it out the door in plenty of time. We got to the camp. Chris and I signed the boys in . Brought them to their groups. Met their counselors. Gave them kisses, and off we went with no tears, not even mine!
When we hit the sidewalk, I had this sudden feeling of absolute bliss! I was going home. Chris was going to work, and I was going to be all alone, in a silent house. Silence for 6 hours. Well, it wasn't completely silent. There was a gentle warm rain pitter pattering on the butterfly bush outside of my wide open windows. There was a slight breeze drifting the subtle flower scent into the house.
I didn't clean. I didn't think about cleaning. I didn't feel bad about cleaning. I sat and listened to the rain. I read my book. I watched the birds out at the bird feeder. I took a bath. And most importantly, I dozed by the open window. Heaven!!
3 o'clock rolled around and I realised I missed my boys! I couldn't wait to pick up my little angels. They were all thrilled to see me. Thomas insisted on extra snuggles when we got home, which was great! I needed them too. They didn't fight on the way home. They were tired out and watched a movie until dinner. Ate dinner and off to bed they went.
That of course only covered the first day. I'll leave you on that good note and won't meander into the last 4 days of a less than perfect experience. But let's face it, one perfect day is better than none!!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Rain, Puddles, Mud, and Laundry.
I usually don't mind rain or puddles or mud at all. I am actually a very accomplished puddle splasher, mud pie maker, and wild rain dancer. But enough is enough. It's been raining so much that I've thought about building an ark. Of course the thought of having to help rebuild the human race and cleaning up after more animals than we already have does not suit me at all. But besides the constant clouds and rain, there is the laundry.
Laundry is my arch nemesis. I can't stand it. I hate sorting it. I hate moving it from the washer to the dryer. I honestly don't mind folding it, but I hate with a passion having to bring it up the basement stairs, up the stairs to the second floor, and then putting it away in the dressers. So often the the laundry moves from the dirty Mount Laundry to the Clean Mount Laundry with no sorting or folding in between.
Despite all that, I love to hang laundry out to dry. There is something so amazingly invigorating about hanging laundry. Just the process of carrying the heavy wet clothes out into the sunshine totally changes my persective and relieves the drudgery that laundry has become to me. Alas, the rain has hampered that little bit of laundry magic that I do enjoy.
You are probably wondering what the heck the rain has to do with laundry. Well, being so accomplished at rain sports, I have had the pleasure of passing on that skill to my children. Unlike many children who look at the rain as a reason not to go outside, my children look at it as a chance to practice their skills at puddle jumping and mud pie making. Hence, the rain has caused a steep increase in the amount of laundry I have to deal with.
This is not laundry that can be set aside for a sunny day. Oh no. This is soggy muddy slimy laundry. This is the type of laundry that calls enchantingly to mildew. And mildew, being the consummate predator of wet laundry, obliges within the hour.
My pasty white skin and slightly mildewed clothes need a sunny day. I need a day that is sunny, slightly breezy. A perfect day for my children to play outside in the yard with no puddles or mud pie making involved. I promise, if a day like that is delivered, I'll do as much laundry as I can. Deal?
Laundry is my arch nemesis. I can't stand it. I hate sorting it. I hate moving it from the washer to the dryer. I honestly don't mind folding it, but I hate with a passion having to bring it up the basement stairs, up the stairs to the second floor, and then putting it away in the dressers. So often the the laundry moves from the dirty Mount Laundry to the Clean Mount Laundry with no sorting or folding in between.
Despite all that, I love to hang laundry out to dry. There is something so amazingly invigorating about hanging laundry. Just the process of carrying the heavy wet clothes out into the sunshine totally changes my persective and relieves the drudgery that laundry has become to me. Alas, the rain has hampered that little bit of laundry magic that I do enjoy.
You are probably wondering what the heck the rain has to do with laundry. Well, being so accomplished at rain sports, I have had the pleasure of passing on that skill to my children. Unlike many children who look at the rain as a reason not to go outside, my children look at it as a chance to practice their skills at puddle jumping and mud pie making. Hence, the rain has caused a steep increase in the amount of laundry I have to deal with.
This is not laundry that can be set aside for a sunny day. Oh no. This is soggy muddy slimy laundry. This is the type of laundry that calls enchantingly to mildew. And mildew, being the consummate predator of wet laundry, obliges within the hour.
My pasty white skin and slightly mildewed clothes need a sunny day. I need a day that is sunny, slightly breezy. A perfect day for my children to play outside in the yard with no puddles or mud pie making involved. I promise, if a day like that is delivered, I'll do as much laundry as I can. Deal?
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
2 glasses of wine down the hatch.
Suffice it to say the last month or so has been overwhelmingly awful. My butt has been kicked from health to finances to emotions. To top it all off, I've got my period, and a stupid mosquito just bit me to steal some much needed blood. So tonight, I will be drinking wine. Hope that darn mosquito got a big gulp too and has managed to fly into a wall somewhere, because my reflexes were already slowed enough to miss smacking it!
I suppose saying that I will be drinking wine is really not truthful. Perhaps I am drinking wine would be closer to the mark. Even closer to the mark would be that I have consumed 2 glasses of wine. Thank goodness for spell check.
So I will share a funny from my wonderful son, Collin, because laughter has been a hard to find comodity around these here parts the last few days. Collin has special needs and can often be defiant and emotional. He can be a handful and a half, but along with all his struggles comes a sense of humor that seems to mature each day.
Today, the Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn books were brought up in passing. I remember reading those books and just loving them. So, when Collin and I were talking about this summer, I told him we needed to get him those books to read. Thankfully, this child has inherited a love of books from both myself and Chris.
So he asked me a bit about the books. I told him the basics, and he got a huge smile on his face. I couldn't tell exactly what was going on behind those lovely big big brown eyes and lopsided smile beyond the fact that he was obviously thinking something mischievous. So he asked me, "Does Tom get in a lot of trouble?" I laughed and said, "Yes!" His grin got even bigger when he replied, "Sounds like the book for me." Funny boy! Now, however, I'm not sure if those books were the best idea. I'm afraid that he will start reading them to his two younger brothers and it will all be downhill from there. LOL!
The last day of school is tomorrow. Three wild boys, all day long, is that not a frightening thought? The oldest has a broken arm, special needs, and a seizure disorder. The middle is the most mischevious sneaky monkey I know. The youngest is not far behind in trouble level from the other two, and he has two of the bluest biggest most beautiful blue eyes and he's not afraid to use them to his advantage. Can you say I'm in way over my head?
I'm already shaking in my boots. Not a lot of money, so all entertainment must be free or cheep. So there are playgrounds. There are walks on the wildlife refuge. There are arts and crafts and board games. There is the library for books and tapes. So, hmm, the first week of summer is covered! Only 7 more to go!
Thankfully, my most wonderful and adored parents will be taken Jack for a week, and Collin and Thomas have decided that they want to go together. Okay, so now we are down to 5 weeks with all three of the little darlings.
For the first time ever, all three of my boys will be going to full day camp for two whole weeks. I have no idea what I am going to do with those two weeks! I have a feeling that I will probably spend the first few days driving around the parking lot worried about my youngest! But that's two more weeks down.
That leaves 3 more weeks. One of those weeks, we will spend 3 days camping. So now we are down to two more weeks. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can last the last couple of weeks without totally losing my mind. Of course, there will have to be a few more bottles of wine along the way.
I have a feeling there will be many many more blog posts about our summer and how I'm going to survive the testosteron toxicity that exists in a house with 3 boys, a husband, 1 male dog, and 2 male cats. Please send some estrogen this way?
I suppose saying that I will be drinking wine is really not truthful. Perhaps I am drinking wine would be closer to the mark. Even closer to the mark would be that I have consumed 2 glasses of wine. Thank goodness for spell check.
So I will share a funny from my wonderful son, Collin, because laughter has been a hard to find comodity around these here parts the last few days. Collin has special needs and can often be defiant and emotional. He can be a handful and a half, but along with all his struggles comes a sense of humor that seems to mature each day.
Today, the Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn books were brought up in passing. I remember reading those books and just loving them. So, when Collin and I were talking about this summer, I told him we needed to get him those books to read. Thankfully, this child has inherited a love of books from both myself and Chris.
So he asked me a bit about the books. I told him the basics, and he got a huge smile on his face. I couldn't tell exactly what was going on behind those lovely big big brown eyes and lopsided smile beyond the fact that he was obviously thinking something mischievous. So he asked me, "Does Tom get in a lot of trouble?" I laughed and said, "Yes!" His grin got even bigger when he replied, "Sounds like the book for me." Funny boy! Now, however, I'm not sure if those books were the best idea. I'm afraid that he will start reading them to his two younger brothers and it will all be downhill from there. LOL!
The last day of school is tomorrow. Three wild boys, all day long, is that not a frightening thought? The oldest has a broken arm, special needs, and a seizure disorder. The middle is the most mischevious sneaky monkey I know. The youngest is not far behind in trouble level from the other two, and he has two of the bluest biggest most beautiful blue eyes and he's not afraid to use them to his advantage. Can you say I'm in way over my head?
I'm already shaking in my boots. Not a lot of money, so all entertainment must be free or cheep. So there are playgrounds. There are walks on the wildlife refuge. There are arts and crafts and board games. There is the library for books and tapes. So, hmm, the first week of summer is covered! Only 7 more to go!
Thankfully, my most wonderful and adored parents will be taken Jack for a week, and Collin and Thomas have decided that they want to go together. Okay, so now we are down to 5 weeks with all three of the little darlings.
For the first time ever, all three of my boys will be going to full day camp for two whole weeks. I have no idea what I am going to do with those two weeks! I have a feeling that I will probably spend the first few days driving around the parking lot worried about my youngest! But that's two more weeks down.
That leaves 3 more weeks. One of those weeks, we will spend 3 days camping. So now we are down to two more weeks. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can last the last couple of weeks without totally losing my mind. Of course, there will have to be a few more bottles of wine along the way.
I have a feeling there will be many many more blog posts about our summer and how I'm going to survive the testosteron toxicity that exists in a house with 3 boys, a husband, 1 male dog, and 2 male cats. Please send some estrogen this way?
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
And just when I thought it was safe...
I got a call at work this afternoon from the school nurse. This is never a good type of call to get. Usually the only call from school I dread worse than that one is the call from the principal. Those calls never seem to go well either when you have a special needs child with impulse control issues.
The nurse, who understands the stress case I've been since Collin was diagnosed with a seizure disorder said in one breath, "This is the nurse Collin is fine, but...." But? Oh please, no buts! I hate buts. The but was that he fell off the swings and hurt his wrist. I asked if I should pick him up, and she said no, she just wanted to make sure I was alright with giving him Tylenol and she'd call me in 30 minutes and let me know. So 20 minutes later, she called back to say he needed an x-ray. Not again!!
By not again, I refer to the infamous adventure Collin had last year, right at the beginning of summer. He decided that jumping down the 7 steps into the living room would be a good idea. After all, flying down the stairs is certainly faster than walking. Really, could you fault his logic? He unfortunately did not take into account the fact that the landing strip was not clear. He hit a shoe as he came in for a landing and fell on his wrist. SNAP!
But, his reaction following this break, has already become the stuff of legend in our family. As he was laying on the floor in my arms crying that it hurt, I told him that daddy would be home soon to take him to the ER. He plaintively cried, "But you made sausage for dinner!" So, as we waited for Chris to get home, I fed him like a little bird. He wouldn't leave without a container of sausage.
But it only gets better from there. When they got to the ER, there was a teenage girl who was really sick. She was throwing up non-stop into a bucket in the waiting room. Collin sat almost directly across from her, and suddenly saw that Home Alone was playing. He plopped himself contentedly in front of the large tv where he preceded to happily eat his sausage, cmpletely oblivious of the poor girl who is hurling a few feet away! Ahh, the silver lining of being easily distractd.
Moral of the story, sausage heals all wounds. OK, not exactly, maybe when it rains it pours? Or perhaps, people can't fly down the stairs or off the swings? Perhaps there is not a moral. Perhaps it's simply life. I just wish life would go a little easier on Collin.
The nurse, who understands the stress case I've been since Collin was diagnosed with a seizure disorder said in one breath, "This is the nurse Collin is fine, but...." But? Oh please, no buts! I hate buts. The but was that he fell off the swings and hurt his wrist. I asked if I should pick him up, and she said no, she just wanted to make sure I was alright with giving him Tylenol and she'd call me in 30 minutes and let me know. So 20 minutes later, she called back to say he needed an x-ray. Not again!!
By not again, I refer to the infamous adventure Collin had last year, right at the beginning of summer. He decided that jumping down the 7 steps into the living room would be a good idea. After all, flying down the stairs is certainly faster than walking. Really, could you fault his logic? He unfortunately did not take into account the fact that the landing strip was not clear. He hit a shoe as he came in for a landing and fell on his wrist. SNAP!
But, his reaction following this break, has already become the stuff of legend in our family. As he was laying on the floor in my arms crying that it hurt, I told him that daddy would be home soon to take him to the ER. He plaintively cried, "But you made sausage for dinner!" So, as we waited for Chris to get home, I fed him like a little bird. He wouldn't leave without a container of sausage.
But it only gets better from there. When they got to the ER, there was a teenage girl who was really sick. She was throwing up non-stop into a bucket in the waiting room. Collin sat almost directly across from her, and suddenly saw that Home Alone was playing. He plopped himself contentedly in front of the large tv where he preceded to happily eat his sausage, cmpletely oblivious of the poor girl who is hurling a few feet away! Ahh, the silver lining of being easily distractd.
Moral of the story, sausage heals all wounds. OK, not exactly, maybe when it rains it pours? Or perhaps, people can't fly down the stairs or off the swings? Perhaps there is not a moral. Perhaps it's simply life. I just wish life would go a little easier on Collin.
Monday, June 15, 2009
My best friend had a baby this morning!
I just got a call from my best friend! She's a mama for the first time. I'm so giddy that I don't even know what to do. I'm 5 hours away, but I want to get in the car and drive there immediately. Unfortunately that is going to have to wait.
She is the best friend who cries when you cry, and then makes you laugh. She is the best friend that you can share any immature nasty thought that you would never admit to anyone else . She is the best friend who laughs as hard as you do at something that other people wouldn't find the least bit amusing. She never tells you to suck it up. She never disregards your feelings. She is supportive in your successes and failures. She makes my life a happier lighter place to be.
Lisa and I have been best friends for over 20 years. But things did not get off to a good start. She walked into my 6th grade class loudly exclaiming over whether or not her lipstick was strait and if her hair was alright while preening in front of a little mirror she kept in her purse. For me, it was annoyance at first glance.
She was petite and cute. I was lanky and awkward. She had these beautiful bouncy curls. My hair was a strait as a stick. She had grown up near a city. I was a country girl. She was outgoing and talkative. I was quiet and brooding. She was into boys. I was into books. This girl was the antithesis of all that was me.
To my dismay, she quickly made friends with my friends, and I was forced to interact with her. To say that I rolled my eyes often at her antics would be an understatement. But I learned to tolerate her and even grudgingly began to get a kick out of her bubblyness.
Then, literally, overnight we became best friends. We both went to a sleepover party of one of my good friends. We giggled and laughed half the night. I still remember some of the goofy things that went on that night. To this day, we still have a private joke that came out of her sleep talking. And that was the beginning of our best friendship.
As time went on, we were still best friends, but our interests began to diverge. I was drawn towards math and science. She was drawn to writing. I played field hockey. She was a cheerleader. Her friends and my friends changed as well. I was a rule follower and she was more likely to push the limits. But through it all, she was still my best friend.
We went to different colleges and Lisa finally had the freedom to really go wild! She partied heavily and all that entails. She'd call me and tell me what she had been up to and I would get incredibly exasperated. Didn't she know she could "DIE!" from that stuff. She'd just laugh, and I suspect, enjoy my reaction. She did things that I would never have tried. But deep down, I lived vicariously through some of her adventures. I even laughed at her stories when I wanted to yell at her. But through it all, she was still my best friend.
As the years have passed, Lisa has calmed down a bit. I've loosened up a bit, and I think occassionally I even surprise her. She was the first one I called when I found out I was pregnant with Collin. Chris and I weren't married at the time and I was on the pill. She was astounded, but in her typical amazingly supportive way she told me that she would support me no matter what I decided to do. The next words out of her mouth made me laugh through my fear. "This shouldn't happen to you. This should have happened to me!" Ah-Ha! I had finally outdone her. LOL!
When I had Collin, our paths again diverged. I was married with a child. She was still single. I was a stay at home mom. She was a career driven woman. I was pregnant with my second child, as she was marrying her wonderful husband. My pregnancies came incredibly quickly and easily. She had to work for hers. My oldest child is 10 and her oldest isn't even a day old. But through this all, she will remain my very best friend. And I will get the opportunity to live vicariously through her again as she enters into an adventure I have never had: raising a little girl!!
Congratulations, Mama! I love you!
She is the best friend who cries when you cry, and then makes you laugh. She is the best friend that you can share any immature nasty thought that you would never admit to anyone else . She is the best friend who laughs as hard as you do at something that other people wouldn't find the least bit amusing. She never tells you to suck it up. She never disregards your feelings. She is supportive in your successes and failures. She makes my life a happier lighter place to be.
Lisa and I have been best friends for over 20 years. But things did not get off to a good start. She walked into my 6th grade class loudly exclaiming over whether or not her lipstick was strait and if her hair was alright while preening in front of a little mirror she kept in her purse. For me, it was annoyance at first glance.
She was petite and cute. I was lanky and awkward. She had these beautiful bouncy curls. My hair was a strait as a stick. She had grown up near a city. I was a country girl. She was outgoing and talkative. I was quiet and brooding. She was into boys. I was into books. This girl was the antithesis of all that was me.
To my dismay, she quickly made friends with my friends, and I was forced to interact with her. To say that I rolled my eyes often at her antics would be an understatement. But I learned to tolerate her and even grudgingly began to get a kick out of her bubblyness.
Then, literally, overnight we became best friends. We both went to a sleepover party of one of my good friends. We giggled and laughed half the night. I still remember some of the goofy things that went on that night. To this day, we still have a private joke that came out of her sleep talking. And that was the beginning of our best friendship.
As time went on, we were still best friends, but our interests began to diverge. I was drawn towards math and science. She was drawn to writing. I played field hockey. She was a cheerleader. Her friends and my friends changed as well. I was a rule follower and she was more likely to push the limits. But through it all, she was still my best friend.
We went to different colleges and Lisa finally had the freedom to really go wild! She partied heavily and all that entails. She'd call me and tell me what she had been up to and I would get incredibly exasperated. Didn't she know she could "DIE!" from that stuff. She'd just laugh, and I suspect, enjoy my reaction. She did things that I would never have tried. But deep down, I lived vicariously through some of her adventures. I even laughed at her stories when I wanted to yell at her. But through it all, she was still my best friend.
As the years have passed, Lisa has calmed down a bit. I've loosened up a bit, and I think occassionally I even surprise her. She was the first one I called when I found out I was pregnant with Collin. Chris and I weren't married at the time and I was on the pill. She was astounded, but in her typical amazingly supportive way she told me that she would support me no matter what I decided to do. The next words out of her mouth made me laugh through my fear. "This shouldn't happen to you. This should have happened to me!" Ah-Ha! I had finally outdone her. LOL!
When I had Collin, our paths again diverged. I was married with a child. She was still single. I was a stay at home mom. She was a career driven woman. I was pregnant with my second child, as she was marrying her wonderful husband. My pregnancies came incredibly quickly and easily. She had to work for hers. My oldest child is 10 and her oldest isn't even a day old. But through this all, she will remain my very best friend. And I will get the opportunity to live vicariously through her again as she enters into an adventure I have never had: raising a little girl!!
Congratulations, Mama! I love you!
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