Always Grateful for My Journey

To say it has been a long time since I sat down to write would be an understatement. To say everything has been normal, and okay during this time would be a lie.

The year had already gotten off to a difficult start, so when the opportunity came to go to my niece’s wedding in BC, it was a welcome change of pace that was well looked forward to. We would be seeing family that we hadn’t seen in years, most of whom had yet to meet Makiya, a great-nephew and great-niece that I hadn't seen since birth and the other just a baby, and two great-nieces that I hadn’t yet met; I was excited to see and have some fun with them all.

The wedding was beautiful, I cried, baby girl danced her heart out, and the time we shared with family was wonderful; it was so great to see Makiya play with her second cousins and have so much fun. The end of the weekend came, and as we are the “on a whim” type of couple/family, we decided to head off to visit with more family, and joined the entourage on a road trip.

What ended up happening changed our lives.

I’ve spoken often of transition and change, forward motion, movement… This was like nothing I expected. All hopes, dreams, wishes, future thoughts, all came crashing down upon me at once. I don’t mean that in a negative way at all, ever since I was a kid, I just knew, and said often, “be careful what you wish for, you WILL get it, you just never know WHEN.”

It was hard to see it all at the time, there was so much to be afraid of, worried and concerned about, and as it happens in these situations, time just seems to disintegrate before you, becoming more and more of an illusion than a reality.

Slowly, after it was accepted that MAJOR change was happening in our lives, I realized that things were, as they do, happening for a reason. As difficult as it was, I said “OK!”, and hung on, trusting in my journey.

I had fun, real fun, for the first time since my baby girl was born, ( a different kind of fun than that which comes with being "Mommy"; I got to be myself in other ways) maybe longer, and met some AMAZING new friends, but at the same time, I began to lose precious time and opportunity with my girl; heart breaking, heart wrenching, and partially unavoidable. Routines were unavoidably disrupted, dismantled really, and that may not necessarily have been a bad thing in all areas, but I do have my work cut out for me in getting things back under some sort of control.

As I come out from beneath part of the fog, I can appreciate certain things for what they have been, necessary pieces of my journey. I still struggle with parts of it all, but I know that I have to go back to the trust, the knowledge, that it is all unfolding exactly as it should, perfectly on time.

There is a reason for everything, lessons to be learned and shared.

I am excited, grateful, and thankful for it all.

Differences That Don't Belong or The Truth Behind Our Differences

Makiya was racing around the play area, trying to find someone to play with, deciding which piece of equipment to tackle next, pleasantly occupied, so I wandered back over to my mom and her husband, who was intently watching a group of kids playing on the spinner. He quickly filled me in on what he had just witnessed; a little boy, only six or seven years old, nastily, physically, and roughly pushed two girls to the side as he forced his way onto the spinner, proclaiming that “the man goes first!”

I sputtered, coughed, choked as he relayed the story, and my attention returned to the boy. What I continued to see stunned me; I felt sickened.

He seemed to zero in on one little girl in particular, who was only around the age of three. He would literally charge towards her, like a bull having spotted a red flag; the cartoon image of smoke streaming from his ears and flared nostrils flitted through my mind. He pulled her back towards the spinner, yelling something at her as he shoved her forward, and then tossed her aside as he again hopped onto the spinner. There was another, older girl, who tried to intervene, telling him to stop and reminding him of how little this other child was, but he had no qualms about showering aggression back upon her. I stood there, doing a little tippy-toe dance as I felt drawn in, needing to intervene, but then more parents would slide in front, blocking me, only to move again, giving me access to the situation once again; back and forth, back and forth, should I say something, should I not… He paced back and forth, between the two identical spinners, huffing and puffing, “Grrr… the girls get this one too?!” Finally, there was a threat to tell, and an interest in the location of his mom, and the boy raced off.

It took a few moments to locate the mother, sitting, hidden behind the climbing bars and slide, chatting away with another mother. It didn’t take long to realize she wasn’t paying attention to the actions of her son, and even less time to consider that, even at the young age of six or seven, it was very possible this little boy left his mother feeling intimidated, perhaps even scared.

This little boy carried himself with a look upon his face unlike anything I have seen in a child, or maybe I have, in a horror movie. Evil came to mind afterwards, harsh, but true. He looked more like an adult male, a man who had been tortured and tormented, left in a state of rage.

Glad that he hadn’t attempted to unleash any of his hostility on my own daughter, I tried to distract myself from it, and we soon left the play area. As we left, we came upon the boy again. He had removed his shoes and had his feet in the fish ponds; we were in an indoor natural area. He quickly pulled out of the water as he shouted threats at another, older boy and went running after him.

The whole situation left me feeling very agitated and angry, and a little judgemental. I spewed off a few things, including that he would likely spend a lot of time in jail, at an early age.

What it was in truth, was, and is a very sad situation; that a child so young could have been shown, taught and lived through enough horror to leave him in such a state.

(While there are some details that I have purposely left out, in an attempt not to offend anyone, the roots of this little boys actions and words are buried in his family, their lifestyle and beliefs... While I respect all of our insights, beliefs, ways of life, and the right to them, there are differences that are sometimes shown to be just plain offensive and inappropriate.)

Life Lessons in Our "Less Than Perfect-Mom" Moments"

I was having one of “those” nights last night. Again.

There are just so many things not going smoothly in my life, and aside from feeling worn out from the stress and worry, I am tired of battling with Ms. Magoo, which in turn makes me question myself, worrying that I am not doing it all “right” with her.

By the time we got to her bedroom at bedtime I felt ready to crack. Tears spilled over, and I couldn’t seem to get myself under control for over half an hour.

Then, as these things happen, I sat down to check out Facebook and some blogs that I follow. Great timing.

First up was a great read, shared by Pamela Price, and Marnie Craycroft, called “Yeah. I’m THAT mom.” by Amanda Morgan of Not Just Cute. I almost continued to cry as I read, but realized I was feeling comforted by Amanda’s words. She reminded me that we are not alone. While we can try to tell ourselves over again that we are not the only one who makes mistakes, sometimes we need to actually hear it from another mother to really get it: we can’t be perfect, do it all and get it right every time.

Next, I popped over to a blog I recently discovered, Winds of Lindy, man this girl has a way with words! I read through some of her posts from the week that I had missed, and again, found myself feeling soothed by Lindy’s words as she too spoke of this illusion of perfection that we, as mothers, seem to strive for.

We can only do the best that we can, and each and every one of us makes mistakes. That is part of learning and growing.

Which is one of the most important things that we can teach our children: to get up, try again and learn from their mistakes.

So instead of beating ourselves up when we have a rough day, perhaps we should be patting ourselves on the back for a job well done.

Keeping our chin up, doing the best we can and making the most of it all; those are not really bad things to be teaching our kids are they?

Be the Monkey

My thoughts are often dominated by my daughter, pondering what I want her to know, feel, experience and what I don’t. In my mind, for some of the most important things to stick, to become part of her thoughts and beliefs, they need to be instilled early on.

It is important to me that she never feels embarrassed or afraid to be herself, and that she feels free to express her thoughts and feelings, no matter what. I don’t want her to worry about being judged by anyone for any reason.

In order for her to learn that, I believe that she has to see it.

In the most sacred of moments, perfectly timed chances, my daughter catch me by surprise, as we walk down a busy street, stand on a crowded train platform or in line at the store, and she invites me into her magical fantasy world.

 In these situations, I could become trapped by thoughts of what people will think, but instead, my concern is only with what will go through her mind, what she will take away from the moment.

I joyfully dive in, full of pride and a sense of freedom; I become the monkey swinging from trees, the wolf howling at the moon, the performer belting out some wacky song, with moves to go along with it, whatever creature or character I am directed to be, I become. I join her in that wondrous place between imagination and reality, where anything and everything is possible.

When the moment calls for monster that chases and captures children for dinner, or a hungry, roaring lion to feed its hissing snake baby, or a twinkly, spinning dance across the sidewalk, count me in.

When I see her face light up with delight and admiration, I am satisfied on so many levels, knowing that in that one moment, she received a lifetime of positive lessons and memories.

And so did I.

Quit Waiting - Just Do It!

Have you ever spent time waiting for the “right time”, or thinking, “if it is meant to be, then it will be”?

I know I have. Truthfully, I realize that I have lost a lot of time lingering in this place of waiting.

There is never a “right time”, as perfectly formed as it exists within the mind’s eye. And, for something to BE, that would involve putting forth the effort to make it so.

One could spend their entire life waiting on one flawless moment, or for the timing to be ideal for another person, and ultimately never accomplish the things they hope and dream to.

If it is the right thing for you, then the time is NOW.

Everything else will fall into place exactly as it should.

Life will absorb the rest; the people, the circumstances, the money, the time, it will all respond as is intended.

If there is something you want, go out there and get it!

The time will never be more perfect than it is now.

Day of the Grumpy Bitch

No beating around the bush on this one; I was a grumpy bitch today.

“Why?” and “What’s wrong?” were certainly not the questions I wanted to answer. I am sure the loud, high pitched response, “What isn’t wrong?!” wasn’t the desired answer to the questions either.

It wasn’t just one thing, it was several things weighing heavily on the mind, and that damn Tupperware lid that ceased to appear was just icing on the whole disgusting cake.

It’s definitely been one of those days where the crazy just keeps piling up, and, there was no relief to be found for the tight looking, screwed up face with eyes that could kill if you look too deeply into them.

As the day finally begins to wind down, the tears begin to fall.

Regret at wasting a day being stuck in such a dark place, not finding (enough) time to laugh and giggle with my girl and allowing anger, sarcasm and impatience to rule instead.

Well, it was what it was. No changing that now.

I did what I could, and that’s that.

Tomorrow is a new day.

Bring on the beautiful, fresh new day. Let the sun shine brightly and the laughter flow freely.

I can’t wait.

Lesson of the Week

The past few months (perhaps if I were to be completely honest, I would admit that it’s actually been closer to a year) have held vast amounts of uncertainty and worry in my life, and I realize how that has impacted the job I have been doing as a Mommy.

Days where my inability to concentrate or fully BE with my daughter have added up, run together and become more of a consistency at times than the days where she was my world, fully. I “have” to do this or that, it’s time to make lunch/dinner, we have to go to the store, it’s “time” for this and that, “in a minute honey!”, “not now”, “later”, all becoming more and more frequent.

I have observed changes in her that I, out of feelings of guilt, attribute to the change in our patterns.

It makes me feel horrible. I have moments where these realizations cause me to panic.

After allowing stress to be the ruler of our days for so long, and tired of the walls closing in around us, I hit a point in the past week where I decided that it was time to let her have some fun. I found a couple of new, free activities for us to attend; I wanted to get out and do some things that were new and different, in addition to the regular Storytime at the library and her Music Class.

What started out as a plan with the best of intentions, I now realize, was not the required prescription.

Instead, I feel totally wiped out; not to mention the gazillion things that didn’t get done this week.

My girl? She is exhausted and cranky.

She hit the nail on the head when we got home this afternoon, just in time for me to start dinner, “I just want you to sit down and read with me!”

Lesson of the week: She doesn’t want to do more, get out more, see more. She wants me. Fully present, happy, fun and engaging, ME. 

Gift From an Angel

That time of year again, when my mind drifts backwards, slipping back to the day that is now seventeen years ago.

My belief that things happen for reason, nothing is an accident or a coincidence, falters, and I am blindsided by that old feeling of fault and blame.

 Forever etched in my mind and heart; like a scar.

I am sure that for the rest of my life I will remember this day, in full detail. All of the time that led up to the day and even the brief period afterwards; and sadly, it will not be a day of happy recollection.

Deep down inside, I know and I can say, rationally, that what happened was a plan that had nothing to do with me; it was someone else’s journey, the path that was meant for them and my own path did nothing to effect theirs.

Somehow though, I can never seem to fully accept that as the truth.

Had I not been willing to be an active participant in something that I knew was not right, perhaps several other paths wouldn’t have had to take a turn down a horrifying, heartbreaking and dark road. If I had not been involved, maybe their lives would have been brighter and happier, not broken by sadness and loss.

Is it right that I put such a heavy weight upon my own shoulders, by accepting blame that was never voiced? Is it selfish of me, just as I was then, to even consider that they would waste time and energy blaming me?

A family that likely would have encountered the same issues, whether it was me or another, met with something bigger than all of that could have ever amounted to. And it wasn’t someone else, it was me. While I may not be to “blame”, physically, I didn’t cause it to happen, I did add other physical and mental stresses that couldn’t have made things any better, easier or healthier.

What happened taught me though. It taught me a few things then that have absolutely stayed with me.

I learned how sacred and special certain connections are, and how in an instant they can be taken from you. I learned how no one has the right to step in between that which they have no possible way of understanding of the workings to begin with.

That night, seventeen years ago, after being pressured into going to the hospital, I broke down. I couldn’t believe what I saw, and realized that I couldn’t begin to imagine what this family had been, and was now forced into, dealing with. I knew that I had no business being “close” to this family.

I wasn’t running from pain; I was running away from being the cause of pain. From that moment, I couldn’t stand the thought of being involved any longer. My heart was aching, throbbing with pain that I couldn’t fully understand, but that I knew was bigger than anything I had dealt with before.

 I struggled with how to end the misery. After all that had recently happened, who was I to now add my departure to the mix? (There’s that old selfish talk again!) Despite all of the hurt and pain that already existed, it was easier to prolong the disengagement until things had calmed down a little bit. And so, I pretended that everything was the same and that I could handle it all; indifference being one of my strong suits. If I didn’t care, nothing could hurt or affect me.

So, I walked the fine line between being involved and doing my own thing, quietly, carefully and “thoughtfully”.

The old wasn’t ready to be tossed to the side, and soon became that annoying entity that wouldn’t leave, or allow me to quietly go. That friendly old situation that pulls strings, manipulates, threatens and frightens, all with the belief that they will be able to make you change your mind and find your will to actually be their own.

But, for once, it clicked, and I realized I was strong when I needed to.

The attempts at reining me back into the web were never going to succeed, and I wasn’t going to be a player or even a bystander any longer. I broke the tie as quickly as possible and never looked back.

That perfect, sweet, angelic face was more than I ever needed to realize the truth; I learned my lesson.

Thank you angel. And Happy Birthday.

This Day Was Meant For You

Every year at this time, she is filled with a consuming sadness. It leaves her exhausted and confused, despite knowing deep down inside where it stems from.

She was adopted as a baby.

This is a pain I can only imagine. Despite having felt myself at the depths of sorrow and sadness, it was something that feels pale and simple in comparison to her own struggle of emotions and overwhelming sense of aloneness.

Her senses of belonging and importance, her role, those things that make her special, are lost upon her at times; times such as now, her birthday.

She is my mom.

Her birthday is the day that reminds me of exactly what kind of a gift she was then, and continues to be now.

I am grateful that, no matter what the circumstances, she was born. Her beginnings in this world less than what most would dream of for their baby girl, I am grateful that she found her way into a loving family. I am thankful, and grow constantly more appreciative, for the journey that she has walked in her life. It led her to be the one chosen to be my mother, and it brought her and I to the place where we now are.

We are friends; bonded and connected by so many things, our turbulent past is almost laughable.

Happy Birthday Mom! It is your day. It is now, and it always has been. Look back over your journey with excitement and joy as you remember all the steps that you took to bring you here, now. All of these things that make you special, and uniquely you; these things that you are loved and appreciated for that make you amazing!

Today and every day, always remember how special you are to all of us. No one does it like you, and that’s the way it is meant to be!

I love you. 

A Long Overdue Thank You

For the past couple of years I have been allowing myself to feel angry with someone who had previously meant the world to me.

 I was angry because I felt that she had changed, and as my feelings grew a little stronger, I also suddenly had open ears for whatever anyone else had to negatively say about her. I allowed myself to become stuck in a place of anger, distaste and regret, when it came to her.

Something I heard the other day stuck out, like a message kind of hitting me over the head, and it told me it was time to really look at this situation, and clearly.

Whatever happened in her life, before or after our special time, is of no matter. Most importantly, it is of no matter to what our relationship meant to me.

What IS important was the role that she played in my life back then, what she was able to give me and show me about myself. The closeness that we shared gave me so much; taught me, allowed me to be me, and gave me warmth and comfort when I most needed it. She was the one I ran to, escaped to, when my world felt like it was crashing down around me. She was, what I felt at the time, the sole provider of unconditional love and support in my life.

It comes down to that whole thing about judging other people, and who am I to do that to her after all she offered to me?

As I have pondered this over the past few days, it has made me feel a little ashamed, and sad. While I may not have been the one to “change” our relationship, neither was she really. She grew and I grew, we just happened to grow apart; sad as that is.

I miss the closeness that we shared, the ability to openly and freely express exactly how I was feeling, the fun that we had together.

But, perhaps, the teacher’s job was done. The time that was needed between us passed, she was needed elsewhere, and I had to move forward in my own life of learning and teaching others.

Instead of grieving what had felt like and seemed to have been lost, instead of feeling angry and betrayed, I should have simply celebrated the role that she played in my young life. I should have been remembering to keep gratitude in my heart for all that she gave to me.

And so, for now, while I likely won’t be able to bring myself to actually say all of this to her directly, I still want to acknowledge it, say it aloud, put it out there, back into the universe and all of our energies…

Thank you. Thank you for being that special person in my life, the lifeline that, truly, kept me alive. Thank you for being understanding, non-judgemental, and, loving. Thank you for being there when nobody else seemed to think I was worth it. Thank you for believing in me, when no one else seemed able to. Thank you for letting me be who I needed to be then, for it has made me who I am today. Thank you. And, I love you.

Thinking out the Kitchen Window

This morning I caught myself, as I often do, staring out the kitchen window as I puttered my way around; washing dishes, putting things away and tidying the counters. My mind began to drift as I realized that what I was seeing is not my own, in many ways, nor is it what I wish to see.

I long to be in a little house, one of my own, and it should be on a quiet street backing onto a field, a forest, a haven of nature and all its beauty. Perhaps, even more, I’d like that little house to be IN the field, forest, or even the mountains, a magical place full of beauty, lessons, real life and true survival.

Instead, I am in an older home, rented, on the side of a major road. A place where I can watch as life, people, cars, all pass by at an alarming speed, the noise rising above and infecting my thoughts, and the mere thought of allowing my child to play and roam freely through our large back yard while I stand at that sink doing dishes causes my heart to skip a beat and my heart to tie in knots.

I wish for the simpler times, simpler in ways that seem to justify the hard, back breaking, painful side that also fully encompassed that life. Worries and concerns that were, perhaps, life threatening, changing, but real. Work, a lot of it, that fostered true appreciation for what was had, held, cherished, consumed.

I think about how different, how special, beautiful and healthy this world could be if only things were just a little simpler, not to be confused with easier.

Later, as I walked down the street, a quick trip to the corner store, my mind was still challenging the world, weaving words together, thoughts I wanted to get out, when I slowly began to take in the sounds of cars that were passing by; the whiiiirs of motors, the constant whispers, shelu, shelu, shelu, as tires tread through the muck of melting snow, the sudden blast of muffled music as a car speeds past.

I felt a little as though I was being smothered by a thick blanket of pollution, aside from the obvious reasons, it was as though all that surrounded me was infecting me with something that I didn’t want, rapidly taking over everything. A poison that was preventing me from feeling, seeing, smelling, tasting and hearing the beauty, stillness; that place from which we all come was being drowned.  

I was thinking how I just wanted out of this city, this place, these “problems and issues”, I wanted to escape to a quieter place all my own. I thought about what I really do want and need in my life, for my life.

And then, I was standing in the middle of an intersection, having been narrowly missed by a car that had mindlessly sped through the red light, as it came to a stop only two feet beside me.

The thoughts swirling around my mind cemented as truth.

The way that we are living should be different…

…it should be nothing like this!

Be Careful What You Wish For – It Will Be Yours to Have

I remember as a teenager “realizing” that I had the ability to “make things happen”. I also quickly understood that with that power came the need to remember an old saying “Be careful what you wish for.”, and I added “Because it WILL come true.”

We know that our thoughts and words hold the power in our lives, and that what we send out there always comes back to us. Perhaps just not always exactly WHEN we ask for it.

Years down the road, there are times that we may find ourselves confused about how or why we got to the place we currently are; the simple answer is because we asked for it to be that way.

I have caught myself a few times suddenly realizing, caught in an AHA moment, where it comes flooding back to me; that wish or desire that I expressed so long ago has FINALLY come to be.

Not always when, and certainly not exactly how we imagined it, but the essence of it still there.

*note to self-ALWAYS be very clear and detailed when asking the universe for something!*

I’ve always remembered that moment when I really understood that I did have this power in my life, but I have forgotten that it is mine to use.

I have the power to create the life, every beautiful little piece, that I truly want.

Riding the Glass Elevator

As though at the mall, in one of those glass elevators that looks out…

Crystal clear, the walls that surround me allow pure light to fall upon me and I am able to see far beyond my reach. Clarity and vibrancy like no other beckons me from above, and below the darkness threatens to swallow me into its depths.

Smart enough now not to step off on the bottom floor, but something still strong enough catches me willing to at least stop by, allow the doors to open and show me what lies beyond.

I’ve been down there before… Not  only am I able to see what could or would be, I KNOW with every fiber of my being what exists in that world; that place I tried to leave so long ago. Those are the whispers that follow me to bed each night, still vying for my attention as my eyes slip open in the morning… Reminders of a time and place I escaped years ago, and yet little flickers from their eyes catch me by surprise almost daily.

Dreaming of what is up there, able to see the beauty that sits waiting for me, I am able to make it to that top floor, but the doors don’t open wide enough for me to slip more than a finger past…

The things that I long for, envisioned and have dreamt about are just beyond my grasp, at times so close but I allow them to slip through my fingers…

For now, I find myself trapped within the four walls of this place that allows me clear enough insight to all the world has to offer me, but the inability to step off at any floor…

Gifts Can Be Found in One of "Those Days"

Those days…

When you know that you have over-reacted, but can’t bring yourself to apologize.

When you remain stuck in anger instead of letting go.

When you realize you’ve given over the power that is your own.

When you want only to mourn that which feels lost, as it sits before you.

When you miss out on joy, seemingly in preference to misery.

When that smile seems the most difficult to produce.

When you want to run and hide, but are forced into “action”.

When the to-do list seems insurmountable.

When every action and word seems to suck all the energy from you in an instant.

When you really want to be comforted, but can’t help yourself from being a bitch.

When all the words you long to say nearly escape, but don’t.

When you wish that you had a rewind button for your life.

When you wish that you had a fast forward button for your life.

When you wish that you had a delete button for your life.

Those days are the ones that have the most to teach us, and yet, it is the hardest to learn anything on those days.

Those days are the ones that we shouldn’t dismiss or try to forget, they are the ones that need to be looked at and carefully considered, as they are the days that will often repeat themselves until we are finally willing to open our eyes and do the right thing.

Nostalgic for Days Gone Past

These days, there is so much talk about the problems in the world; our food, transportation, waste, education systems, the need to recycle, reuse, reduce, etc., and, of course, like many people, it has got me thinking. I’ve been reading and thinking, reading and thinking, and trying in some small ways to make changes in how we do things.

It seems to cause much debate and discussion as we look for alternatives in the ways that we have become used to living, the ways that we’ve been taught, and told, to live our lives. It seems strange to people to consider living simply, as some of our parents and grandparents did, and some people around the world still DO live today. Their still seems to be a stigma around it all, adding to the discomfort felt in those who do ponder changing their lives, entirely.

I struggle, not so much on the fence, but not fully on either side anymore, or yet. While one can appreciate the advances and technology that we are now able to “enjoy”, the lack of appreciation and respect for these changes makes me question where the “good” in it all lies. We are a society who takes it all for granted, selfishly expecting it ALL, and NOW.

I think that what may have begun with the best of intentions, spiralled too quickly out of control and into the hands of greedy people who in turn created a greedy society.

As I find myself being pulled, in what some may call a step back, into a more natural and simple way of living, I wonder whether there is something, like a memory in our bloodlines, our DNA. Could these things, that seem so familiar and normal to me, almost like a second nature, really be a memory from my ancestors, or from another life of my own? Is it like an animal instinct buried deep inside that calls out to me?

Make no mistake. The genes we’re born with carry memory. They carry knowledge we’ve never learned, talents we’ve never studied, even fears of things that have never frightened us…. But someone, some time, in our blood lines, had these memories. Yes, you might say that all of us are haunted to some degree. You might very well say that. – John R. Maxim

Is it possible that this innate compulsion to change the way that we live, this nostalgic feeling that arises within as I look back to the simpler times, comes from somewhere in the past, my past? Was it inevitable that I would find myself in this place, making these changes and longing to do more?

When I was a little girl I loved reading stories about “the old days”, the days of the pioneers, Little House on the Prairie, and of course, my favorite place to visit was Barkerville. I was drawn to those simpler times and often dreamt of travelling back in time so I could experience all that I read about.

Of course, as I grew into a teenager, those things I loved got lost within me while I struggled my way into a life of my own. I forgot about some of the simple things that brought me joy and pleasure.

Since having my daughter though, I have found myself wandering back onto the path that I, obviously, was meant to be on. I find myself rediscovering love and passion for certain things, and times.

These things that made sense, things that perhaps I took advantage of, when I was younger, now make more than just “sense” now. They seem to be a necessity that I am driven to re-create in many ways. This is not to say that I consistently make the “right” choices in my life, or even the choices that I wish I could. Right now, I do what I can when I can. I believe that every small step and/or change made contributes to a change in the larger picture. It all starts somewhere, from the discussions to the little things; a shift begins.

Kicking Ass on the Scaredy Cat Pile

I found myself, many times, in 2012 simply unable to write. I tried, but as with everything else in my life, I just couldn’t keep focused long enough to continue.

So many thoughts and feelings coursing through my body, and I am, at times, simply incapable of keeping up. I suppose that I feel overwhelmed with all that sits upon and before me, and it has me feeling a little paralyzed in every way.

In order to overcome fear of any kind, isn’t it said that we must therefore plunge in headfirst? Dive in and face that which causes us to feel afraid. But, where do you begin when there is one helluva pile of scaredy cat sitting before you?! Which side of the pile do you dive in and swallow first?

I think I’ve got that part figured out though. Me. I start with me.

All of those little things I’ve been meaning to get to, to do, to start, to add to the routine, I start with those. Those things that make me better; healthier, happier… That’s where I start. One little step at a time, one day at a time and I turn them into parts of who I am, what I do, what I think and feel.

I don’t know that I can “start fresh”, but I can start each day doing and thinking the right things. One morning, one step at a time, I can BUILD it, and write it, all the way that I want to.

So 2013, let’s kick some ass all over the place!

Baby Girl Turns Four

Today, my baby girl, my lil’ ladybug girl, Ms. Magoo, turns 4!

I cannot believe how fast the time has gone by. I can’t believe that she isn’t a baby anymore! Sob…

While I wipe my tears away, I can’t help but smile.

I smile at the amazing little girl that I see before me. This little girl who has such a strong mind, definite likes and dislikes, preferences, plenty enough that we can only laugh as we shake our heads, interests that surprise and delight me, and a heart so tender and loving.

Every day I realize that I am the one learning. My little girl is, and has been since the day she arrived in my arms, teaching ME. She is the teacher that opens my eyes and so often she is the spark that re-ignites the fires of my own interests, beliefs, dreams… Simply by being herself, she inspires me in so many ways.

Happy Birthday my sweet girl! Live, love, learn and grow, be all that you can be… I love you baby!!

Lucky 13

2013.

I’ve never been pulled into the whole New Year’s hype. Sure when I was a teenager I went through the couple of years where I swore to do this and that; big plans with those resolutions… that never stuck! Don’t recall many big celebrations, aside from the crazy one when I was seventeen, ahem… other than that, it has usually been a quiet night, save for those years when I worked in the bars/pubs. Most recent years, we’re in bed or watching a movie, and by midnight, I’m either asleep, or the only one barely awake!

Last year, I did try to make attempt at the whole one word “resolution” thing; “Motion” was my theme. Well, on a physical level, that was a big ol’ FAIL, but on the intellectual level, deep inside, I guess that has been a huge success. A little too bad that I wasn’t able to make the two work together!

This morning, as I drank my coffee and strolled, or scrolled, my way through Facebook, my outlook for this coming year changed.

I realized that it was going to be 2013 tomorrow. 13. One of my lucky numbers AND the first, and only, time I will live through a 13^th year! Kinda cool I thought to myself, and decided in that moment that this “New Year” could be a GREAT one!

No resolutions, or plans that will likely fail. Intentions? Sure, quite a few actually; hope they don’t find their way into becoming “resolutions”!

Goodbye 2012. I am grateful for all you had to offer, all that you shared in an effort to help me grow and learn.

Hello 2013. Get ready ‘cause here I come!