If you've read my blog, you know my mom and I are close. Really close. She had me at the age of 18, so we like to say we raised each other. There are many, many things that I have learned from her, many things for which to be grateful, but there is one in particular that has shaped me into who I am today: my love for reading. According to my mom, I was reading by the age of 4. Not just memorizing ( I was doing that too) but actually reading books by myself. I cannot remember a time in my life when I didn't have a book I was carrying around. I HAVE to have a book to read. I devour books. As does my mom. Starting when I was in elementary school, my mom and I would go to the library every 2 weeks and each check out 4 or 5 books. We would read our own books and then swap and read each other's books. Yep, 8-10 books in 2 weeks. And not "kid" books, but books that were a couple hundred pages each. We read everything. Biographies, fantasy, history, romance, mystery. She instilled a true love of the written word into my very being. I read encyclopedias and law text books when I had read everything else we had in the house. Even she who had passed on this love to me would (still does) shake her head at me and laugh about how I always had my "head stuck in a book".

Books are my friends.

I have laughed, cried, loved and died reading books. I have explored worlds, fallen in love, felt palpable hatred. I have learned so much, taken so much. I have been so terrified I put a book away for a year before I could finish it (Stephen King's "It"). I have read a book so many times that I felt as though the characters were alive (Little Women, Jacob Have I Loved). I have yearned for places that don't exist and looked in cupboards and closets for magical worlds (C.S. Lewis and Tolkien). I have prayed that I would meet real fairies. I have wept at fictional deaths. I have felt my heart race at narrow escapes. I have dreamed of meeting the hero. I have tattoos inspired by works of literature. I am a book junkie.

I thank my mother for this love, this obsession. It has shaped me. I am blessed with the gift of reading and comprehending things very quickly. VERY quickly. I don't "skim" books, I soak in every word. Books are the only thing I collect. I am a purist; no e-reader for me. I want the weight and heft of a book in hand. I want to touch the pages, hug it to my chest. I want to OWN the books I love.  I credit my mother with my ability to do well in high school, college, grad school. She taught me the love, the joy of reading, and I am passing that on to my kids. There is nothing like it. For me, it is how I escape but also how I expand, how I cope, how I process. It is me.

Thanks mom; you are the best. I will write a book for you one day.

Just one of those days

This week has been exhausting.

I was really busy at work, which is a good thing, and I truly do love it. But being on my feet all day and then doing all the stuff that needs to be done to run our household is difficult sometimes. I have also been training for a 4 miler, my first race in about 14 years. It will also be the longest distance I have EVER run, so it is totally a challenge for me. I was looking forward to a chill weekend; all we HAD to do was gymnastics class Saturday morning and church Sunday morning. Awesome! Except I forgot about my cousin's baby shower in Dinwiddie. And we really needed to go grocery shopping. And Roy had to have a haircut. Ok, no problem, I can handle all of that. And then both kids woke up Saturday morning at 6am, with so much energy I could have sworn they had been drinking coffee all night long. Ok cool, I will grab a caramel macchiato and we will be on our way!

But...

It was just one of those days. Where the kids ask 1 million questions about a movie they have seen so many times they have it memorized. Where they need an explanation for everything I ask them to do. Where the smallest request is met with resistance. One of those days that brings demands from little tyrants every 5 seconds. Where a grocery store trip makes them so excited they are bursting at the seams and ask for everything on the shelves, from honey flavored yogurt to a mini charcoal grill. And are devastated if any requests get a "no". A day in which concepts that they are quite familiar with have suddenly become foreign. A day that our normal treats (a cake pop for Stella and gummies for Roy) are not satisfying enough. When sitting through a sibling's gymnastics class is the most boredom one can possibly imagine. When reading the same book three times in a row is not enough. When coloring is torturous. When an hour long car ride to Dinwiddie feels like 3 hours because they are tired but refuse to let their eyes close. A day when little ones must yell everything, must run in circles, must ignore mommy, must be put in time out 1000 times.

I was exhausted from NOT yelling at my kids. I have made a promise to them and to me that I will not yell. I can talk sternly, I can punish, but I refuse to yell. It just stresses me out. It makes me feel terrible while I am yelling and after I'm done. It may get their attention, but all it teaches them is that mommy is a bully. Granted, I am human, so I do make mistakes and I will find myself slipping back into the habit of yelling. And then I spend the next hour feeling immense mommy guilt. Because I truly, truly want to NOT yell. I am not passing judgement on any other parent who yells; this is a deeply personal thing for me. This is a rule I have set for myself because of how I feel, of how it affects me, of how it affects my family. I feel utterly and completely ridiculous and out of control when I yell. Like a total jerk who accomplishes nothing. So, no yelling. Hence the exhaustion from explaining and reasoning and referee-ing. From normal, everyday parenting. Usually I am up for the challenge, but sometimes, sheesh!!!!

Just one of those days...

Mother's Day

I love mommy's day. I always have. As a kid, I LOVED to make gifts for my mom; she deserved so much more than I could give her and she always made me feel like it was the best gift on earth :) I am one of the lucky ones who has always had a good relationship with my mother. None of that weird jealousy I have seen with other mother/daughter relationships, none of that "I hate you" crap, even in my asshole year of 15-16.

Now that I am a mom, I finally understand my mom so much more.

I understand why she cried so hard on my first day of school.
Why she came to every school activity.
Why she gave me chores to do every day.
Why she beat the crap out of a 6ft 2inch tall MAN who insulted me (true story, I'll tell ya that one later)
Why she always made her yummy brownies for all my school parties.
Why she kept that awful bookmark I made her when I was 7.
Why she never talked poorly about my dad after he left us.
Why she let me date, but gave me an early curfew.
Why she had me fill out all of my college scholarship/financial aid applications on my own.
Why she had total, absolute faith in my abilities to achieve my goals.
Why she never said "I told you so" when I screwed up big time.
Why she had so much fun taking me and my boyfriend and our friends to see Public Enemy, MC Lite and Queen Latifah in high school.
Why she agreed to be the chaperone for Beach Week two years in a row.
Why she accepts me for who I am and has never tried to change me.
Why she sacrificed so much for me from the age of 17 on.

There is something sacred about the mother/child relationship. I hope and pray every day to be as good of a mom to my kids as my mom is to me. Thank you mom, for the inspiration and example. I love you.

Hate

I am so very blessed in my life. I am constantly surrounded by love, from family and friends. I am strong and healthy. I have a great job that I love, our house is amazing. I am reminded daily of how fortunate I am. And I completely understand that a lot of people don't have it nearly as good as I do. But for eff's sake, I am so tired of all the hate that I see daily. I am just sick and tired of it, in all it's many forms. This is a ranty post, so get ready.

Don't believe in God? Don't believe in atheists? Don't believe in abortions? Don't believe in same-sex marriage? Don't believe in gay people adopting? Don't believe in formula feeding? Don't believe in homebirths or midwives? Don't drink? Don't eat meat? You co-sleep? You sleep train? You run? You got a divorce? You have tattoos? You are a feminist? You are a Democrat/Republican? You let your kids watch tv? You don't want kids? You want 20 kids? You want an epidural? You smoke weed? You eat veal? You are in an interracial relationship? You watch porn? You don't buy organic? You eat fast food? You shop at Whole Foods? You're a feminist? So be it!!!

I am just over it. Over all of the judgemental, biased, mean-spirited hateful crap that people spout off as fact. I am done with holier than thou attitudes, done with those people who think their way is the ONLY way. Done. I have never been one to bite my tongue, but now the gloves are even more off. I am trying really hard to teach my kids love and tolerance and patience and consideration and put-yourself-in-their-shoes. And along with that comes removing themselves from hateful people and situations. So if you suddenly find that I am just not communicating with you anymore, you can probably guess that I just made the decision to cut out some negativity in my life. No offense meant; I can't control how you feel about things, nor will I try. But I can control who I surround myself with. I cannot control who or what my children will encounter in their lives, but I can help them learn to deal with it in a constructive manner. If something doesn't work in your life, you move on. And I have too much that is good in my life to willingly let negative in.