‘Mommy, here is my heart in your necklace.’ said my five-year-old beauty.
Take that Tiffany’s.
Wordless Wednesday: Best Mother’s Day gift.
May 16, 2012
Loss Of My Mom, moms, Motherless Mama motherless mom Leave a comment
Motherless: 5 things to honor your mom
May 7, 2012
cancer sucks, Loss Of My Mom, Marriage, Mommy minute, moms, Motherless Mama motherless, motherless daughter, motherless mom Leave a comment
I am walking through the mall with my daughters and see Mother’s Day signage. What should be a happy sight, I feel mixed emotions. Ever since my mom died I have hated Mother’s Day. I’ve tried to make it passable by honoring my grandmothers, but it wasn’t the same. Now as a mom, I feel I need to participate in the Hallmark holiday.
She is never far from my thoughts. I have been alive longer than her. What started to make the day fun for me was when I began things to honor my mom every day like:
- I break out pictures of my childhood and share stories with my daughters. By talking about the good times it reminds me I did have a childhood.
- She loved purses. I have some of hers and have added a lot more since. When I get nostalgic I look at my purses and remember playing dress up with them. Sometimes I will go window shop the purse section of department stores. It may seem silly, but it is calming to me.
- I watch her favorite movies or television shows. I remember watching The Young and the Restless when I was home from school. The house stopped for that one hour. Watching it today makes me feel close to her.
- I give myself permission to grieve. The loss of her will always be here. It comes in fast and furious. A trigger can be small or big depending on the day. When I embrace the pain I get through it.
- I work on living each day as it might be the last. I often forget to make each day count. The beauty is when I wake up the next day it is a fresh start.
I may be a grown woman but I will always wonder, what if she didn’t have cancer? What if she survived? What if I had a regular childhood that didn’t involve hospitals and wheelchairs?
Looking at my daughters enjoying a mall treat, I know I can drive myself mad wondering the what if’s. I might live till tomorrow, or not. What matters is honoring my mom while living my life. Being the mom she was is a great gift to give my daughters.
Motherless Parenting
April 30, 2012
Cancer, cancer sucks, Loss Of My Mom, Mommy minute, moms, Motherless Mama motherless, motherless daughters, motherless mom Leave a comment
When I mention to an acquaintance that my mom died a long time ago, I am met with the pity look. The label gets stamped on my forehead like a marquee. Sometimes the other person asks how I take breaks or go to appointments. I answer, I don’t get breaks and my kids come with me everywhere. It isn’t easy, but it’s our life. I do not have access to free babysitting. As a result, my kids are exposed to a wide variety of life lessons. Parenting motherless leaves open the trials and tribulations of our daily lives.
One thing that I do struggle with, what I think I have to do, is cooking. I never was a great cook before kids and I am even worse now. I am a packaged food mom. I have tried some recipes but have failed. It is just that I would rather be in the playroom and not the kitchen. It is not in me to cook from scratch. I might one day try again to do more cooking. My mom was a crock pot cook before she got sick. We had cookies from a package. We survived.
When it comes to discipline, I know I am lax. I never know when I should ‘parent’ and when I should let something go. Simple parenting lessons that I would ask my mom if she were here. I know I must sweat the small stuff and yet let big stuff slide. My kids must be confused.
When something parenting comes up that I do not have an answer to, I always wonder what would my mom do? I find that to be an enlightening question. Knowing her last few years must have changed a lot on how she parented, I learn to relax and have fun more with my kids. My girls will get into trouble as they grow and test boundaries. Go with the flow, right?
I will continue to make mistakes as we grow together as a family unit. Each kid is different. Yes, it is hard some days when I do not know the right answer. Is there ever a right question?
I am a Macaroni Mom
April 16, 2012
Loss Of My Mom, Marriage, moms, Motherless Mama Iron Kids Gummies, kids eating healthy, waffle weekends 1 Comment
I am snug in a booth in the food court at the mall. To my right is my three-year-old. To her right is the wall. We are munching on our coffee shop treats. We just dropped her sister at kindergarten. Across from us are a mom and her son. By the sounds of it their snack time it is way different than ours. She is bribing him to eat an apple then she will buy the fries he wants. By the sign of his crossed arms, it is not going well.
I glance at my youngest and am amazed at how lucky I am with my girls. From the time they started solid foods I had given them fresh fruits and vegetables which they eagerly ate. We allowed junk food at birthday parties. My girls didn’t even get chocolate until they were two. Even then it was only for special events.
When I was eight months pregnant with my youngest I had a huge panicked fear-I am neither a cook nor a baker. I am not creative in the kitchen whatsoever. I did know that it was important to get organized in the culinary arts. With a tenacious toddler demanding her favorite foods every day, I got to work. Now we have a family plan for every day of the week to allow moderation while eating healthy.
Macaroni Mondays is a popular day in our house. It is easy to make and there is always clean plates after dinner.
Tim Horton’s Tuesday is a happy day. It is the day for Timbits.
Wednesday is saved for leftovers from the past few days. Dinner is a mesh of foods that guarantee that nothing will be thrown out.
Taco Thursday is a quick, fun night. We either fill up the taco shells or use tortilla chips.
French fry Fridays caps off the week beautifully. It is our pizza and movie night. We all picnic in the living room while watching a family movie.
Weekends are saved for waffles, pancakes or French toast. It is what gets us a few more minutes in bed before having to make breakfast.
While we have themed days, I adapt and change as needed. Sometimes a lasagna or casserole makes its way to the dinner table. I also utilize a local food store called M&M Meat Shop which has an extensive inventory of fresh and frozen meals. When I do cook my limited repertoire, I make large batches. Leftovers are frozen for ‘one of those nights.’ We also make sure our girls have their Iron Kids gummies to balance it out.
I love the time with my daughters instead of burning dinner. Time is too short. One day they will help me in the kitchen, or not even make it home for dinner. I do not feel guilty that I am a poor cook. I am there for them in other ways, French fries and all.
Isolation and Labels
April 2, 2012
Autism, birth moments, Loss Of My Mom, Marriage, moms, Motherless Mama autism and girls, motherless, World Autism Day Leave a comment
Watching my five-year-old tear around the school playground after school makes me ask myself if I was once that carefree. I realize that I must have begun for the first ten years of my life. I have small memories of after school play dates and skating club parties. That all changed the summer before I entered the sixth grade when mom died.
I remember clearly my first day back to school. I was asked by the teachers to help the librarian while the class continued on. Shortly after, I told the librarian that I had to go to the bathroom. I snuck back to my classroom door and saw the entire class gathered around the teacher. I heard the words, “Her mom died.” Stunned, I went back to the library and was excused to go back to class after an hour.
When I entered the classroom and walked to my desk I could feel all their eyes on me. No one spoke to me or looked at my eyes. From that moment on I had a label, Motherless Child. For the rest of my school years I had a hard time making friends. I still hear the whispers as I passed through the playground about how my mom died. The calls to play diminished fast. I felt like a circus freak.
As I became an adult and began working full time, I made few friends. I felt like I forgot how to make a friendship work. Yes, I had my husband who became my best friend instantly. I also had my younger sister who is still one of my best friends. Yet, as her older sister there is only so much I can dump on her emotionally. I continue spending my life protecting her.
When I became pregnant for the first time, I went into research mode. We have very little family around and I wanted to make sure that my child grew up with people to call friends. I joined a mommy and me group. All the babies were close in age. While on maternity leave we got together several times a week. We have shared a bond in motherhood that stuck through the years.
As our youngest showed global delays, it became harder to meet in groups. She would stick out with her differences, especially in her speech delay. Her older sister wanted to go do pre-schooler things like water parks and indoor playgrounds. Her younger sister could not handle large crowds. I had to turn down invitations because I could not handle the stress it caused my young one let alone me. I had to watch her every move.
As she was finally getting the assessments for autism more friends faded, just when we needed moral support. I don’t blame them. We just could not do the things ‘normal’ families could do. And then, magic happened. We made new friends, and new acquaintances became fast friends. They helped in ways they may not have realized. Also, entering the world of autism opened a new support system. Everywhere I looked there was the label of Autism and it felt okay.
My youngest comes over to me wordlessly demanding to be picked up. I scoop her up and look for her big sister. I see her off on the swings with a school chum. Instead of telling her it’s time to go home, I give her a five minute warning. A compromise. It is so hard to balance both girls’ different needs. The best gift I give them is labelled simple- Love.
I Am Older than My Mother
March 28, 2012
Loss Of My Mom, Mommy minute, moms, Motherless Mama 4 Comments
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After washing the breakfast dishes and loading them into the dishwasher, I feel a sense of dread. I am spooked, and I know why. Without looking at the calendar or knowing what day it is, I just know. It is March 28th and I am now older than my mom was before she passed away from breast cancer at 38 years old. I still do not know exactly how I feel.
Ever since she died, I feared turning 38. I long to celebrate my 39th birthday. I am probably the rare woman who can’t wait to see forty, because my mom did not. When I turned 28 I began the mammograms and ultrasounds and blood work to keep a check on my health. As of right now, I am the only woman in my immediate family that has avoided cancer.
That C-word has taken everyone I have ever loved in my family and has threatened my younger sister three times. It is an evil and awful disease. I try to keep eating right but struggle with hat. I lost my svelte figure when my youngest daughter stopped liking the stroller. I gave up on me constantly. Until this moment.
While I will not be vigilant and absorb every health plan, I will look for balance. Life is too short. For my heart is telling me I need to work more on my goals, my dreams. It will honor my mother and leave a legacy for my children.
Many motherless daughters swing through emotions of living longer than their mothers: guilt of living longer to a sense of relief that they ‘made it.’ I do feel the power to make my life right like she was not given the time to do.
I walk into the hallway where my mom’s smiling face is looking at me from the picture frame. I whisper to her that I understand so much more now. I will make her proud, so when we meet again she can tell me how proud she is of me. All of a sudden I feel ten years old again and was just told she died. It is 28 years later, and the hole in my heart when she left is still there. I will continue to treat her granddaughters like she treated me. I will work on a ‘bucket list.’ I never knew her list.
I quickly turn my tears into a sniffle when my daughters come running up to me. I will still fear that one day I might be taken from them too soon. But then again, anyone who has lost a parent no matter the age will say it was too soon.
I love you Mommy, more than a million oceans.
Losing My Fairy Godmother Still Hurts
February 28, 2012
Loss Of My Mom, Motherless Mama 1 Comment
I throw down my cell phone and scream, “No!” I am changing my baby’s diaper and she is looking confused. My husband comes into the kids’ bedroom to ask what is wrong. I shake my head and he knows. He helps to dress our girl as I stare at the floor. I call my sister who already got the phone call. She rushes through our call so she can head to the hospital.
“She is gone, sis.” There is silence on the phone. I repeat the details about how the heart attack happened to our foster mother, whom is also my godmother. My sister will go to the hospital with her husband to confirm details.
I know what my body feels is shock. But it is so much more. Throughout the years my family and I have lost many, many loved ones. And now Judy is gone. She is the mom I knew the longest in my life. My mom and her were best friends in university. She took my sister and I into her home when life with our father got too rough. She grew into her new role as our foster mom flawlessly. We became a tight unit. She survived having two motherless teenagers in her house. Even when we moved out and got married, she was right there. She is the grandmother that my girls know.
I begin the motions to get dressed, feeling hollow. I can’t cry yet. I had not kept in touch with her much since my youngest was born. My doctor had told me to take it easy. When my baby arrived life with two little kids took its toll. Automatically I berate myself for not keeping in touch with her more. And now, it is too late. I spy her with our oldest in a picture frame. The tears start to fall fast.
It is now three years later and I am in the same fog thinking about that dreadful morning. I am getting dressed as I did that day. My thoughts and heart are overshadowed with the memory of when my godmother died. I still miss her. I miss our phone calls and coffee dates with the girls. I miss my second mom. Though my mom died when I as ten, losing Judy when I was 35 is a different kind of hurt. She became our family that blood relations need not apply. We were together.
I slip down the stairs from our bedroom and pass the picture of our oldest and her celebrating the first birthday. I wonder if the girls will ever know how much she loved them. I wonder if they will even remember knowing her. We keep the picture up as a wonderful reminder that for a brief memory in time our daughters had a fairy godmother in their midst.
I dust off the 8×10 frame and smile at the good memories of when I was little til becoming a mom. All throughout my childhood I swore the fairy godmother in Cinderella was made after her. I miss having a go-to mom. So many times I would pick up the phone to call, and then remember. Once even called her voicemail just to hear her voice. The guilt I have for not giving back to her in the way she gave to me will never go away. The motivation to tell her stories to her grandchildren is strong. To honour by living through her pixie dust mothering will be the best gift I know to give her.
I know she is happy being reunited with her parents and my mom.
Thank you Judy for being there unconditionally.
February 28, 2009.
My Third Blogaversary
January 4, 2012
Loss Of My Mom, Motherless Mama autism, writing a novel 3 Comments
The date was January 4th, 2009. I still remember the way the keys felt under my fingers, shaky and scared if I was ‘doing it right.’ After ten months having fun on Twitter and taking The Momoir Project classes, I craved to take my world public. I wished to progress in my writing. I learned a lot in reading blog posts online and taking many classes.
It is now three years later and I reflect on what I have learned, and wish I knew back then. There are many things I needed someone to walk me through it.
Lessons for new to blogging:
- Think long and hard on what to name your blog. It sticks forever.
- Read. There is a lot to learn there.
- Don’t feel the pressure to keep a blogging schedule. Do what feels right. Business blogs or personal blogs, it has to feel organic to share your writing. To not keep writing schedule if it doesn’t feel right. If it feels like an obligation then your readers will feel that pressure too in your words.
On that note, I am taking my own advice. I will not be posting regularly for a while. I am going back to learning mode. I also will be spending more time with my youngest that was recently diagnosed with autism. We are at the beginning of the therapy journey. I need to focus on my family. I also will be having less ‘me time’ in the process. When I get a small break, I wish to do what I feel right to do, without obligation. Live in the creative present.
I am daring myself to focus on writing a novel. I did it twice for 3Day Novel contest. It is something in my soul that is screaming to do again.
Thank you readers for the past three years. You have taught me more than I could have ever learned in a classroom. I will keep in touch as long as you wish. Find me on Twitter: @just_d_world
Happy New Year’s to you!!
Renewed Christmas
November 28, 2011
Loss Of My Mom, Marriage, Mommy minute, moms, Motherless Mama Leave a comment
“Bye. Talk soon. I love you. “I hang up the phone. I just fleshed out the Christmas plans with my sister. She is the closest family we have near and will be spending dinner at her house. We are keeping plans and times loose. I will call her after my kids open their gifts. No pressure of schedules. We can spend the morning in our pajamas! This is new to us. We spent year after year rushing to get out of the house to visit family in the next city. Spend all day there and have to travel back in the same day. It made for an exhausting time. I can’t stop smiling at the new plan.
Also, what makes us giddy for this Christmas is last year we didn’t know if my sister would make it to this one. She spent last year in the hospital healing from her second cancer surgery. As a family, we spent Christmas lunch in the hospital cafeteria. Even though the kids had fun, it was the bleakest, darkest Christmas ever.
I once dreaded this Christmas for another reason. I turned 38 two months ago. It’s the age my mother died. Rationally I know that I might not have the same fate as her. The fear is still emblazed on my heart. Once my sister was in the clear for the second time, it was my wake-up call. Life is too short. It takes more energy to be negative than happy.
I owe it to my children to make their tinsel memories filled with delights, not darkness. My mom gave me that gift. I only knew what she really went through when I was older. My daughters are very perceptive to how I feel. That motivates me to be a better mom by being happy with the now.
I will work on giving my mother’s only grandchildren the same happy and positive mom she gave me. It feels so freeing to not only survive being motherless, but thriving by rewriting my story. I confirm the details with my husband. He, too, looks forward to not rushing on Christmas Day and celebrating our small and happy family.
Our daughters come running in and we make a family hug. I love how this Christmas will be the best one because we will be together, in happiness.
I am my mother!
September 19, 2011
Loss Of My Mom, Motherless Mama Leave a comment
“Who wants more freshly-baked banana oatmeal cookies?” our play date hostess asks.
With a quick scramble and expressing good manners, the four children sit down at the kitchen table to nosh on the treats. Kathy (not her real name) smiles at the sight and comes over to offer me one. I shake my head politely and cross over to the table to help my two-year-old to open her water.
“How do you have time to bake?” I ask.
“Oh I make time. Nothing packaged or processed for my kids.” She sweetly declares.
I sigh as I reflect on my cupboard back home, filled with packaged and processed goods. It’s not that I don’t want my kids to experience freshly baked treats; I just don’t have the time with them and my work-at-home job. Chuckling inwardly, I know I don’t even know how to bake or cook except for a few recipes.
Memories of my own childhood come to mind. My mom adored her new microwave, becoming our new household appliance when I was seven years old. TV dinners in front of the TV watching the latest VHS tape that my dad rented were my norm.
My mom spent her time with us when she wasn’t napping after her latest chemo treatment. I didn’t know that moms cooked or baked from scratch daily until I became a mom. Since my childhood I have learned how bad microwaves can be. So we don’t have one. My girls play pretend with their plastic kitchen toys.
I break from my nostalgic space to realize that everyone has finished their snacks and went back to playing in the next room.
Watching my oldest daughter play with the toy microwave in the kitchenette makes me miss my mom so much. It is that pang on my heart that I remind myself that my kids won’t remember that I didn’t make a three-course dinner every night. It’s my hope that their childhood memories will be filled of me playing dress-up with them, or just being there.
My youngest girl races over to me demanding to pick up. I know that is my cue that we need to go. Over my oldest loudly protesting we say our good-byes. I buckle them snug in their car seats and head home.
Since being a mom I have started to let go of ‘being the mom I think I have to be’ and more of the mom that I am. I now understand that is what my mom was to me.
We get home and I settle my two-year-old for her nap. I curl up with my oldest to watch a DVD.
It is amazing how for many years I forgot major parts of my childhood. Now being a parent the memories arrive daily.
I have since dug deep into the years following my mother’s death, my father’s abuse and when I left home at sixteen. I swore that I would never be a mom. Nowadays, if I feel my anger boil, I either walk away or scream into a pillow. In this house hands are for hugs or high-fives only.
My oldest squeezes me into a big bear hug and says she loves me.
“I love you too.” I whisper into her ear.
I do know that my mom loves me wherever she is now. My greatest gift to my girls is to love them like my mother loves me. Learning of what I didn’t like as a child and repairing my past for my children’s future is one of the best parenting skills I own, packaged food included.
I wake up with a jump. Realizing it is my two-year-old calling me; I slip out from my four-year-olds sleepy hug and race upstairs. After a potty break, I settle my toddler down to a snack and change the TV to one of her shows. My four-year-old wakes up and asks for a Bear Paw. I un-wrap the packaged food and smile at the irony of today.
I settle down on the couch hearing the kids munch away. When they are done I gather us up to go outside and to walk to the park. In foresight, I know I need to let them race around to burn off the extra energy so they will go to bed at their regular bedtime.
“Come on, mom! It’s your turn!” my oldest bellows at me breaking me from my memories. I climb up on the slide and hold both my girls as we all slide down together. After three rounds I beg for a break. I sit on the bench and watch my kids play and race around the park.
With a nostalgic smile, I see in my memory my mother having races on the swings of who would go higher. As I grew older I would win. I recall her pushing me to ride my bike alone on the way home. She would be steps ahead calling me. I knew she would be there if I needed her. When she died, it took me years to realize that she will always be there for me. I just couldn’t hear her back. Being a mom, I now hear her.
She didn’t make housework a priority, and she used the new kitchen gadgets to speed up her time in the kitchen. Crockpots and TV dinners were the regular feasts. I used to give myself heck trying to be the supermom- in my mind the mom who baked and cooked from scratch and kept a spotless house. I thought I would be the mom who knew what she was doing.
I will always miss my mom. Yet I know her more than ever today. For the ten years I knew her in real life, she was always there for my sister and I. The hugs were always given. The “I love you more than a million oceans’” expressed several times a day from her. She showed me that it was not being perfect, but present, was what is most important in being a mom.
I drink in the beauty of my daughters playing in the bright sunny afternoon. While I turn the same age this year that my mom died, I am no longer fearful I will have the same fate. I live each day making good memories and regrettable mistakes in parenting, and I know I will make more. I am certain that this is what my mom felt. Holding her cancer fears away from us as young kids, we got to enjoy her as she was. Our mom.
One look at the clock on my iPhone, I realize that we need to go back home to make dinner. My husband will be home soon. We work hard to have dinner together every night. We talk about our day while we eat. My heart swells when I hear my oldest daughter tell her playmates that we have to go home for family time.
As I walk with my girls, the stroller packed and our skin lightly tinted pink, my grief over my girls not having their grandma subsides a little. Without realizing it, I became my mother. I parent with what I know. It gives me strength to keep doing what I am doing, which is being like my mother with my own spin.
