You know how much I love you?!

My mini is cute, arguably the cutest 3yo in the world. And far too much like yours truly.

She’s mean.

Already she could bring a grown woman, also yours truly, damn near to tears. With all the time that we’ve spent one on one in the last year you’d think she’d be more attached to me. Even though she comes to my side of the bed every night to cuddle and calls for “Mommy” whenever she’s upset I know her bond with her father is stronger.

Am I jealous? HELL yeah! Did I mention that I’m the one that gets called first to “come wipe my butt”?! This whole SAHM thing really means you’re a slave to a toddler. And the pay is just a joke!

Her new thing though… it melts hearts. Every time she says it I feel sucker punched in my Mommy soft spot… “you know how much I love you Mommy?” As if she could quantify this feeling that her 3yo mind doesn’t even fully understand. How could she? I’m almost 27 and I DON’T know how much I love her. I’m sure it’s along the lines of

if anyone ever misplaced a hair on her head they’re as good as dead or should pray they were…

but that’s not really an answer she’s likely to understand. So when she ask me this question I’m amazed. I mean I LOVE her, I loved the very thought of her before she was even conceived, but I don’t know how much she loves me.

 

I think of my mom, my backbone really. What would I be without her? I’m not overly thoughtful, or even nostalgic but I wonder if she knows how much I love her.  Even the people that aren’t nearly as important to my life have contributed so much, and for that I truly love them. I don’t really think it’s something that could be quantified. I’m no scientist or genius just a mom who has started to wonder if the people in my life know how much I love them. And that question I pose to everyone reading this. Because you took the time to, I love you. I hope you know how much.

Mortal, me?!

A few weeks ago I was super tired but, I totally ignored it. Turns out that was kind of a bad idea. And, after collapsing at Jibraels school I had a mini vacation in the hospital. That “vacation” I’m sure to vent about another time, but for now lets just focus on the affect of having ME missing from the equation that is my family. Yes, this is a totally self absorbed post… what’d you expect?

I have to be in control. I push everyone to better the whole, and they aren’t whole without me. I didn’t want the kids to come to the hospital, I imagined no mother would want her kids to see her that helpless. And I was scared, terrified actually. We’d never talked about what to do if anything happened to the other. I guess that’s naive of us seeing as we’re both just flesh and blood. And in my case less blood. I still don’t know how that conversation should go, or how it would even start. I just remember being so upset that the doctors were admitting me, I had to pick up Jibrael, make dinner, walk Cookie, go to the gym, work, and make sure Aqeelah got her hair combed at least once in a while. I remember looking at Muhammad, who was sitting on his laptop working, thinking he can’t handle this. He had enough on his plate , he couldn't handle me not being there AND the kids, plus the dog. Mainly I couldn't handle being out of control. 

He did better then I expected. I mean sure Aqeelah had the same puffs for a few days, and he had to make arrangements for someone to pick up Jibrael. And the house was, well the house was somewhat worse than when I was home. He was still amazing. And the kids ate lots of junk, pizza for dinner and chips for snack. But they ate. They cried, they worried, they missed me. But they were OK.

I sat in the hospital worrying about them every second. I woke up from anesthesia asking if Jibrael had school lunch. My very capable husband had it all covered. So they might not be that bad off without me. As sad as that sounds, it’s also very reassuring. Nothing says I’ll be here tomorrow, it’s good to know that without me they’d manage. I joked that Muhammad would have to find another wife immediately if anything should happen to me, but the reality is he’s an amazing father and doesn’t need me to be around to validate that. Guess my mortality confirms I made the right choice.

love you, love me, love always

I always expect today to be easier. Every year for the past ten years I want to fast forward through October 3rd.

To say that I am ready to write about this, to let everyone I know into this whole that is still in my heart...

Forever sixteen, ten years ago today I lost my best friend. The one person in my life I never had a falling out with, who not once hurt my feelings. Our friendship will always be the highlight of my adolescence. The memories will always be greatly cherished. Jenni was there for me when my grandfather died, the first close death I’d experienced in life. She was a rock when my parents finally got divorced. The person I told when I lost my virginity. Jenni was so much, always there and she always genuinely cared.

The thing that makes October 3rd bearable every year is what Jenni gave me after she left us. She was amazing, and kind, and strong, and loving. She held all of my secrets. She gave so much, even in her departure of this world. I am always amazed by and grateful for Georgia.  Jenni gave all of her friends a second mother, whom she was always willing and proud to share. The love and respect that I feel for Georgia is equal to that which I have for my own mother. As a mother now I couldn’t imagine. Georgia, you’ve taught me so much I’ve often wondered how you remained so strong for us, I know now it’s because Jenni was as good a daughter as she was a friend. I could never thank you enough for sharing her with me, and everyone else she touched.

My friend, my Jenni is the reason I have my family. Eight years ago today Jenni put Muhammad in my life. Not as a replacement, but a reminder that I am here and I still have the opportunity to be happy, to grow up. I saw Muhammad in philosophy class, but I met Muhammad on October 3rd. To say that I was in a bad place would be an understatement. I knew then that Jenni was looking out for me, comforting me like she always had. The only way I have to thank her for everything she has meant to me is to always carry her memory, and celebrate her life.

eh… it’s me

If I could recreate me I’d be so much better. I’d be like a happy homebody, with tons of independent projects that just naturally flowed. I wouldn’t be so afraid to unveil and show my soul and accept the souls around me as inspiration and positivity. I wouldn’t let anything that anyone had to say tear me down, plus I wouldn’t tear anyone down with my words or actions either. Hell, I probably wouldn’t drink or swear or yell when I got pissed off. I’d have no temper and the strength to walk away. If I could scrap this person I’ve become and create the being that stands for more, maybe then I could be… happy.

But seriously. this all sounds so self loathing, my other person would not be down with this vibe at all. What’s worse is I have no idea how to be anyone but who I am. I am a flutterer, being at home makes me more than a little nutty. I start projects and loose interest in them, some of them like this blog I dabble with from time to time. Sure I could make myself just write but then the few folks who do read this crap would want to have an intervention. Assuming anyone would care that much! And unveiling, whoa…  my CalPIRG days aren’t that far behind me, and somehow I’ve cloaked that conviction I was once so certain of. I justify my tirades and,

*sigh* I’m too young for this type of contemplation…

So what, life's not rainbows and daisies, and I say fuck… a lot. Maybe I could be both those people, but would that be fake? I mean, I’m pretty sure that the being I described has to live in me. She’s the D2 under construction waiting for old age and wisdom to bloom. She’s gotta be better than the old lady shouting at folks for walking on the lawn. So what if I’m slightly self absorbed at 26, 26 years from now I’ll be a whole new person. Ha, circular logic :) Because in the beginning I was just me, someones daughter and sister. All these layers I’m wearing today have to be preparing the universe for a worthy being.

So I guess if you’re still reading this insanity that will forever pollute the internet check back in a few decades and remind me of this post.

I read a tweet that said,

“My neighbor is a stay at home wife, that must be a miserable existence #workingwoman”

it really pissed me off. I can’t figure out why, maybe because I know what hard work it is to be at home and maintain a positive attitude. I also remember how difficult it was to work 50+ hours a weeks and maintain a healthy, happy home. Kudos to the woman who can successfully do both, but from my experience there’s always something that is lacking.

The negative comments about stay at home moms/ wives never cease to amaze me. As if this job is less important because there is not financial incentive. I can name several jobs that have little or not financial gain that are EXTREMELY important… teachers, missionaries, monks/ nuns…

My contribution to society as a shaper of the future is far greater compensation than a salary. I’m not only here to mold and guide my own children, I’m a role model and open arms for any child I meet. In the game of life some women are players & others are coaches, but both are necessary.

What it means to sacrifice

Today I have been unemployed for six months. Wait, scratch that, I have been a SAHM for six months. And that is NOT the same as being unemployed. I have struggled with my decision and at times felt like I made the wrong one. There are so many things I want to do with my family, and now that I have the time to do them I find that I don’t have the funds to do it all. I’m constantly hearing that s word thrown around like it’s dirty. As if not having absolutely everything you want the second you think of it is a bad thing.

I’m fairly certain that I don’t really know what “sacrifice” this means. Even when I was younger and my mom said no, it never felt like a sacrifice. She never complained about all the hard work she had to put in to take care of me & my sisters, so perhaps that's where my attitude of the word came from. You do what you have to do, because nothing will ever be handed to you.

Sometimes it seems like the people I know get so caught up in keeping up with the Jones & everyone else that doesn’t really matter, that they forget what’s really important. When I wake up in the morning I’m gifted with the opportunity to make a difference in my son and daughters life. No I don’t have the luxury to buy whatever I want whenever I want anymore. But I honestly don’t miss it.

The true sacrifice is having all the material things you could think of, and no time to enjoy the people who love you.

Testing, testing 1-2-3...

So I'm working on taking my blog mobile so that I will actually do some blogging. Here's a picture of my lil' mini me from a few days ago. She was killing that donut!