Ten Years

Cancer. A word that floods most of us with emotions, almost all of them negative; sadness, loss, anger, fear, anguish. We travel through life dreading the word, hoping to never hear it and a loved ones name in the same sentence. But paired with one simple word, it means something completely amazing... "free". Cancer Free.

October 5th marks the ten year cancer free day for my sister in law Paula. I could not be more thrilled to celebrate this milestone for her. Sometimes, actually most of the time, I forget that she had breast cancer. But I know that she never does. I know that always, even in the most joyous of times, she has stored away in the corner of her mind the battle that she fought to get to that very moment. She is the rare person that brings light into a room, she has an oddly calming effect on the high strung people around her. I swear I honestly do not think I have ever heard her raise her voice, even while corralling very active twin boys. Paula has always listened, really listened, anytime she happened to be around while I was griping about something. I appreciate her advice and value her opinions.

Instead of all the other words that are associated with cancer, these are the words I think of when I celebrate this day in Paula's honor. Joy because she is here to tuck her babies in at night. Awe of her strength and determination. Admiration of her patience and serenity. Happiness that she is here to share a beautiful life with my brother. Pride in the Warrior that she is. Gratitude for Survivors like Paula and my Mom. Reverence for Strong women that have walked across the battlefield and emerged on the other side, not unscathed, but with knowledge of themselves and the strength they have within, beautiful scars and all. 

I am glad that you are who you are, Paula, because you are an incredible human being. Happy Ten Years! 

xoxo

"Okay Google" Define: Parent

par·ent

ˈ/perənt/

noun

1. 1.

   a father or mother.

   "the parents of the bride"

   synonyms:

   mother, father, birth/biological parent, progenitor; More

verb

1. 1.

   be or act as a mother or father to (someone).

   "the warmth and attention that are the hallmarks of good parenting"

   synonyms:

   raise, bring up, look after, take care of, rear; hand-rear "those who parent young children"

I haven't blogged in a long, long time. I supposed I just get busy doing things and time gets away from me. But sometimes I get a thought that runs through my mind over and over and I just can't shake it. Writing about it helps with that though, so here it goes...

Parent. Mother. Step Mother. Daughter. Grandmother. All of those words are deeply meaning full to me. All around me, I see people that I love and care for also fulfilling the role of Parent. But also around me I see people toss the opportunity away, sometimes flippantly, sometimes with unimaginable pain. Of course, none of it is none of my business, but it makes me thoughtful.

When I wasn't even legal drinking age, I was introduced to parenting. And it was hard. Harder that I ever thought it would be, and made even harder by the fact that this tiny person in my care wasn't biologically mine. I had no rights, no say. I also had no say in the fact that I came to love her like my own, and she is as special to me as any person in my life.  Somehow we figured it out as we went along, and I came to experience a relationship that was profound, rewarding, frustrating, heartbreaking and joyous. 

Then at 26, I gave birth to a tiny human that I did have all rights and say so for. And when I think too long about that, I am just as terrified by that today as I was that day. What if I make the wrong choices for her? What if I don't have the answer when she comes to me with an important question? Or worse, what if I give her the wrong answer? 

I have been very fortunate to have a partner in the Parent Game. For the most part we've been on the same page. Even when we haven't been, I know that we both want the very best for our girls in the end. They are both kind, smart, compassionate, loving people. I mean, in the end, isn't that what being a parent is about? Raising children to be productive members of society? 

I think parenting is more about guiding and helping children find themselves. Help them find what makes them happiest. Support them in their choices, whether you think it wise or not. Sometimes it means standing by and watching them pick themselves up from a fall and dust themselves off, even thought the only thing in the world you want is to pick them up and kiss all the hurt away. Being a parent means learning some hurts just can't be fixed with a Hello Kitty bandaid. That lesson has a lasting sting for both Parent and Child. Then you cross your fingers, shove them from the nest and pray they figure out how to flap their wings.

It's a cycle. Sometimes I forget the Daughter part. That my Mother has felt and feels all that same things I do. I get so busy being a Parent, I push the Daughter part to the back burner. I'm going to work on that. 

I can't imagine why a Parent would not want to be involved in every aspect of their child's life. It amazes me that they can just come and go from their child's life with absolutely no regard to the impact. For Pete's Sake, I worry about the impact of the smallest parenting decision's I've made! I feel pity for those Parents, because they are missing out on the most amazing experience life has to offer.

My Name is Julie. I am a Parent. I am a Mother. I am a Step Mother. I am a Daughter. I am Nanners.

And I still have no idea what I am doing. But I can guarantee you that I am going to keep trying my damnedest to figure it out.

An Open Letter to Fall Out Boy From The Mother of a Teenage Fan

I suppose that this could have been addressed to any band out there, but it isn’t.  It isn’t because she chose you. 

I’m not sure when it happens, but I suppose it happens to all teenagers and their mothers. The slow transition of introspective self isolation, when they start spending more time alone in their room, beginning the segregation of themselves from the crowd with the insertion of ear buds, the creeping feeling that the people who have nurtured them for their whole lives no longer understand them. So then we begin the awkward dance of what feels like interrogations over dinner and evasive answers because she is sure that I could never understand her. The worry on my part and the frustration on hers builds.

But I do understand her. I understand her because I remember myself what it felt like and what music meant to me when I was her age. When the pressures of growing up are drowning you and music feels like air in your lungs.  How when no one else understands and you can’t form the words to help them understand, that somehow that song, those lyrics GET it. She has connected with you, with your music, on a level that is personal and meaningful. When she isolates herself away and I look at her closed bedroom door, I can take solace in fact that you are there for her when she feels like no one else is.

You need to know that she is amazing. Beyond amazing. She is cuttingly witty and intelligent.  She is a marvelously talented classically instructed double bassist. When she is finished with her requisite scales, and measure after measure of complicated pieces, she decompresses by playing your music. She writes the notes down in a bound journal of lines that is tucked away in her case like a treasure.  She’s the kid in the orchestra pit with purple in her hair and black on black Vans.

I bought her tickets to your concert tour this summer. She didn’t ask for them because she was unsure if we would allow her to go.  It will be her first concert experience.  I bought them because I want her to know how it feels to stand in an arena with thousands of other people that feel just like her. To feel the bass in her feet, the drums thump in her chest, the sound of thousands of kids singing back the lines that she has connected with.  It is an experience that YouTube just cannot provide and it is the least I can do for her.

She is amazing. She is mighty. She is mine.

But she is also yours. You are the anthem of her youth, so Thank You.

Happy Mother's Day!

I have a wonderful Mom. She is simply amazing. She has always been there for me and has supported me, no matter what. She has taught me how to be a good wife, friend, mother and person.  I don't know what I would ever do without her!!

I love you Mom. Happy Mother's Day!

Pantoufles

Dear Dad,

We opened the cabin this weekend.  Everyone works so hard to keep it the place you loved to be.  We love to be there, too.  I feel you there.  Everywhere I look, everything my eyes touch, reminds me of you.  The kids love it there.  I hope you laugh when you hear little voices filling the place to the roof with giggles and never ending questions.  But nothing makes me think of you more, makes me miss you as profoundly as when I see your pantoufles next to your side of the bed.  I move them every time I vacuum  but make sure I  put them back exactly where you left them.  It's been two years.  And I miss you just the same.

Love,

Julie

Hello Kitty Cake

I have always loved to cook, but I really love to bake. Making more decorative cakes is something I have thought about for a while now and recently I have really been getting into it.  Today was my day off and I found myself with no plans, so I decided to try making and using marshmallow fondant for the first time.  I was just messing around, but I am very proud of how it turned out!

Random Stream of Consciousness

• Being a grown up sucks sometimes.
• Being a kid wasn't always a picnic, either, and I have to remember that when I deal with my daughter's trials and tribulations. No matter how trivial they seem to me as a grown up.
• I hate feeling used.  It makes me feel like becoming the kind of person I really don't want to be.
• Wedgie free underwear is a lie. A horrible, uncomfortable lie.
• My newest favorite scent is Bath and Body Works Twilight Woods.
• I haven't spend enough time with my girlfriends and hope to remedy that in the very near future.
• Chelsea Handler is hilarious.
• My ice maker has begun making weirdly hollow ice cubes. I know that is probably an indication that there is something wrong with it, but as a habitual ice chewer, I have secretly rejoiced in my new "soft" ice cubes.
• The new Facebook Timeline confuses the hell out of me, but I switched it over because I'd rather feel like it was my choice and not theirs.
• I hate having my picture taken.
• I have 30 pens in a cup on my desk and only use one. Just one.
• I love Vince Guaraldi.
• I have been into WalMart to buy Just Dance for the Wii three times and came out all three times without it because I got distracted and forgot.
• I signed up for Netflix and have yet to see a new movie appear in the list of new releases.
• I hate grocery shopping but somehow end up in the grocery store four times a week or more.
• I love my daughter's new haircut, but she won't let me play with it or style it for her.
• I prefer my water room temperature.
• I think that my brother and sister in law should have at least two more babies.  They make really cute kids.
• I miss my Dad and think about him all the time. Sometimes it makes me cry, but a lot of times I laugh.  
• One of my greatest fears is forgetting the sound of his voice, but I can't bring myself to watch home movies with him in them to remind me.
• The foreclosure next door to us is under contract. I want very badly to tell whoever it is that the house is a pile of moldy shit. Not only because it is the truth, but because I really like having the driveway to ourselves.
• It makes me sad that cursive writing is becoming nearly obsolete, but almost never use it and almost always print.
• I always swallow my gum. Sometimes unconsciously/unintentionally before I am ready. That irritates me because I wasn't done with that piece!
• It amuses me when people put all their dirty laundry out then complain that people are looking at their  drawers.
• Speaking of drawers, it also amuses me that my hubby sews the fly on his boxers closed himself. It is hilarious to see him sitting with my sewing kit, needle, and thread.
• I compulsively chew my cuticles and fingers, but never my nails. I wish I could stop, but have yet to find an effective deterrent.
• I think I'll to start blogging more often. The internet doesn't have quite enough crap yet.