Happy Mother’s Day

This day is so special for all of us hard working moms!  It is especially bittersweet for me.  I lost my mom 15 years ago and I miss her just as much as I always have.  After too many years of not “loving” her (my teens, even my 20’s), I made up for it in my 30’s.  We were as close as ever when she died and I feel gratified that I had the time I did with her.

I’ve tried to be a better mother to my kids and I am very happy with my relationship with them (at least most of them…L <sigh>).  They are everything I never was and they will go on to be the most amazing adults…they already are!!!

This day is difficult for me because what I want is not usually what I get.  Of course, the best would be if all the kids were home, if the one that is home would acknowledge me, if her father would acknowledge me (actually, he did say happy mother’s day to me, a first.  His excuse is that I’m not his mother, tho not sure he ever wished her a happy mother’s day.).  OK, enough complaining…

I am happy, I love being a mother and I love that I have a really wonderful reason to celebrate this day.  I send a special Happy Mother’s Day message to other mom’s who struggle to raise kids, through the shit and the heartache and the greatness and the love.  We deserve it!

Obama’s been busy!

Shopping is (almost) fun!

Why in the world would shopping be fun?  (It certainly never has!!)

Because…I fit into size 2 and size 4 pants!!!!!!!  WOW!  I’ve NEVER fit into those sizes before.  I passed right by them on my shopping journey.  I have to say, it’s nice.

Since I’ve been losing weight, of course, my clothes have “loosened”, but not so much that I couldn’t wear them (not talking about my size 18 clothes!).  I’ve had to buy new clothes (mostly bought last year) but I was mainly buying smalls and even some mediums, nothing extraordinary.  BUT, when I put on my favorite capri jeans (size 8) that I was so ecstatic to buy because they fit (2 years ago, or was it last year?) and they FELL OFF, I knew I had to go shopping!  Literally, I didn’t have to unbutton or unzip to put them on or off, I realized that the baggy ass pants I’ve been wearing, and these, needed replacing.  I figured I just go to the Gap for jeans but had no idea what size or even where to go…it’s been that long.  I started out trying on size 6 jeans, OMG, huge!!!  I actually went to the 4s and, lo and behold, no baggy ass!!!  Some styles were even big and I tried on size 2.  I really, REALLY couldn’t believe that they fit.  I was walking around looking for sizes 4 and 2 pants and I felt like I was in a dream.  This was the first time (since the size 8 clothes I had bought before) that I was conscious of the size.  WOW!!

One of the things I did notice, though, is that, while I’ve lost all this weight (and I am pretty flabby), I am getting old lady skinny legs.  I do wear leggings a lot and hadn’t noticed, but seeing these new pants on, I saw them.  What are old lady skinny legs? Skinny legs with knobby knees!  I gotta work on that.  A friend suggested yoga and I picked up a couple of dvd’s from the library on yoga and pilates.  I’m going to check these out with J, this weekend, when I visit her at college.

To be continued…

WORRY

WORRY
Is there an imaginary cutoff period when
Offspring become accountable
For their own actions?
Is there some wonderful moment when
Parents can become detached spectators in
The lives of their children and shrug,
‘It’s Their life,’ and feel nothing?

When I was in my twenties,
I stood in a hospital corridor
Waiting for doctors to put a few stitches
In my son’s head and I asked,
‘When do you stop worrying?’
The nurse said,
‘When they get out of the accident stage..’
My Parents just smiled faintly
And said nothing.

When I was in my thirties,
I sat on a little chair in a classroom
And heard how one of my children
Talked incessantly, disrupted the class,
And was headed for a career
Making license plates.
As if to read my mind, a teacher said,
‘Don’t worry, they all go through this stage
And then you can sit back,
Relax and enjoy them.’
My Parents just smiled faintly
And said nothing.

When I was in my forties,
I spent a lifetime waiting
For the phone to ring,
The cars to come home,
The front door to open.
A friend said,
‘They’re trying to find themselves.
‘Don’t worry!
In a few years, they’ll be adults.
‘They’ll be off on their own
They’ll be out of your hair’
My Parents just smiled faintly
And said nothing.

By the time I was 50,
I was sick & tired of being vulnerable.
I was still worrying over my children,
But there was a new wrinkle..
Even though they were on their own
I continued to anguish over their failures,
Be tormented by their frustrations and
Absorbed in their disappointments..
And there was nothing I could do about it.
My Parents just smiled faintly
And said nothing.

My friends said that
When my kids got married
I could stop worrying
And lead my own life.
I wanted to believe that,
But I was haunted by my parent’s warm smiles
And their occasional,
‘You look pale. Are you all right’ ?
‘Call me the minute you get home’.
Are you depressed about something?’

My friends said that
When I became a grandparent
That I would get to enjoy
The happy little voices yelling
Grandma! Papa!
But now I find that I worry
Just as much about the little kids
As the big ones.
How can anyone cope
With all this Worry?

Can it be that parents are sentenced
To a lifetime of worry?
Is concern for one another
Handed down like a torch
To blaze the trail of human frailties
And the fears of the unknown?
Is concern a curse or is it
A virtue that elevates us
To the highest form of earthly creation?

Recently, one of my own children
Became quite irritable, saying to me,
‘Where were you?
I’ve been calling for 3 days,
And no one answered
I was worried.’
I smiled a warm smile.
The torch has been passed.

…I got this in an email from friend.  I’ve been thinking these same things for a while now…when do I stop worrying about my kids, NEVER.  I miss them so much…

Knitting vs Angry Birds

The Scenario:

I’m watching tv.  I don’t watch much but, you know, I have my programs.  I knit.  I always knit when I watch tv.  I knit other times too, listening to my audio books, in the car (not usually when I’m driving), at meetings and random other times, but I always knit when I watch tv.  Then I got my droid.

Now, I bring my phone and my knitting with me to watch tv.  Suddenly, I hear the rrrrrr-vibrations of the phone telling me it’s my turn to play Wordfeud.  Ok, so I play, then I decide to just do a quick crossword puzzle.  Oh, how about a few tries at Angry Birds…that can take a while.  Then it’s the rrrrrr and my turn again at Wordfeud.  After that I play Mah Jongg solitaire and now the shows are over and I haven’t picked up my knitting.  Shit!  And night after night this happens.

It’s not as if I’ve done no knitting.  I am working on a Berroco pattern, kirra knit, a cute jacket like cardigan, but it is a boring pattern of knitting, k1 p1 across row, then p next row.  I’m just doing the sleeve and yoke part now but when I get ready to do the body, it will be a bit of torture.  Why would I torture myself with knitting?  Well, it’s not REALLY torture, I do love the process of knitting and I love watching the pieces grow.  I think I’m using that as an excuse so that when I realize I’ve spent that past 2+ hours playing games and not knitting, I just chalk it up to the fact that I am not inspired.  Such bullshit!!  I really have to STOP PLAYING GAMES!!!!

Today, or at least for the next couple of hours, I am going to plug in my audio book (Sons and Lovers, DH Lawrence, oy…book club book – gotta talk to them about these classics they keep wanting to read) and knit.  If I at least finish the sleeves and yoke, well then maybe I’ll celebrate with a few hours of spider solitaire…