Have I Told You Lately That I LOVE You?

Have I told you that I am grateful for you?  
Have I told you that I am so appreciative of you in my Life?
Have I told you that I am not taking my Life for granted?

If so, you are not alone.
I say that often.
To many people that are awesome.  
(Seriously, you didn't think it was just you, right?)

Hello.  My name is LizzieC, and I am addicted to gratitude...  

These are authentic feelings.
I am grateful for my friends and family; I am appreciative for my blessings; I am happy to experience every blessed moment on this crazy Journey.

But today I peeled back the layers of joy and gratitude and found an major infestation of fear.  I think that my attempts at "gratitude and loving of Life" have had a mildly manic quality to them these past few weeks.  As my days have gotten calmer, my head clearer, and my heart more healed, I have tried to rejoin the living.

I have consistently told everyone how much I love them (just in case).
I have been consciously present in as many moments as possible (you never know).
I have expressed my deep gratitude for every blessed thing
(I'm grateful...  really...  Get it?  All is good...  I'm fine...  I'm handling it...)

The reality is that "living" looks different after a tragedy.  Always.  I will not be the same person I was before John died.  Ever.  That is not necessarily bad; it is just uncomfortable.

And every now and then, the sum of all my losses catches up with me.  

To be this age and have experienced the death of all grandparents, both parents, aunts and uncles, and a brother, sometimes makes me feel a little lonely... and scared.
The cumulative effect of all these people that I love dead sometimes takes its emotional and psychological toll.

I have spent the last few months working hard at being grateful.
I am scared to stop being grateful for one moment, or else everyone I love will disappear.
Superstitiously, I hope if the Universe sees how appreciative I am for these people, they won't be the ones to disappear.

When the memories of those I have lost wash over me, it comes with the realization that I have so many more to lose.  

That realization becomes fear - a cowering beast inside me that is silently, unconsciously begging God to not smote this one.

I need to figure out how to live beside that fear.  There will always be loss.  Then, we begin again.  We love again.  We trust again.  We heal again.

"You can talk the talk, but can you walk the cake walk?"

Here is a confession...

I am most intimidated in a room full of moms.

I have felt this way since Sophie was a baby (ten years ago) and have never quite shaken it.
I consistently feel like a fraud when attending elementary school events.
I always have the notion that the other moms see me as inadequate.

I know...

...it is me.  
...it is not them.  
...they are not doing or saying anything that a rational person would see as judgmental.

These are my crazy issues - they are sticky and not easy to pin down  (working, being a mom, trying to balance, failing to balance well, having a special needs child, not accepting help graciously, and so on, take your pick...).  

I have gads of issues and consider them fodder for years of blogging.  

The important aspect to me is how I deal with this challenge.  I want to be good.  I want to do good.  I want to serve the school and these fabulous children and their wonderful families.  So, I keep trying.  I keep going.  (I keep being very uncomfortable.)

Here is what I don't know...  

How long and far should I take the discomfort?  How much can I contribute when I keep sending out emotional pricklies in my aura?  Should I just accept that my best contribution is to send the cookies/check/napkins/M&Ms and stay away?  Do other moms feel this way?  How can I hide my feelings better until I get past these issues?

Again, I my struggle is with the practicality of living my beliefs.

(Subtitled)  How do I model for my kiddos acceptance of who I am, while also modeling willingness to be uncomfortable for emotional growth?

In other words,
How hard is too hard?  How uncomfortable is too uncomfortable?

This is an answer I have to find for myself.  And I will...probably the day Anthony graduates. sigh.

Nervous level severe (red)

Monday afternoon found us in a strange place in a room full of strangers talking loud and fast.
Here we are three days later, and Anthony's anxiety has been raised to nervous level severe (red).
This is a small glimpse into a few moments of what that looks like at our house:


I walk into the school to get the kids.

Anthony (the first thing he says to me): Jeremy's eyes are brown.

I changed the name of his classmate.  

Eye color is one of Anthony's obsessions right now.

Me: Mmm-hmmm... 


Anthony (whining): Are Jeremy's eyes is brown?

Actually, his speech has improved significantly this year.  

He has come far.

Me: Tell what you know, Anthony.  Ask what you don't  know.  Whining is inappropriate.


Anthony (whining): Monty is whining, Mommy...  He is unappropriate!!!

 Monty is our cat.  

He is not in the van with us.

I am secretly gleeful Anthony used "un" to mean "not".

Me: ...

Anthony (trying another tactical move): What's tomorrow's lunchfortodayis?

Anthony still has some echolalia.  

This means he sometimes has trouble separating a phrase into its separate word components.  

He will use it as one "word" without really understanding the meaning.

We  are still in the van.  

Surprisingly, I do not have the school lunch menu memorized.

Me: I don't know, Anthy.  We are almost home.  I will help you find out then.

Anthony (not liking my answer): lunchfortodayis.............?

This is where I get payback for years of dropping the end of sentences as a ploy to get him to talk.

Sophie (under her breath): Just make something up.

I am not proud to admit that I often do just this when Anthony is at nervous level elevated (yellow) and  above.  

For some reason, me saying that I don't know generally drives him over the edge into screaming territory.

We pull into the driveway.  

At this point every day, we have a pretty complicated daily routine leaving the van.  

On a nervous level low (green) day, Anthony...

1) unbuckles as soon as we drive onto the driveway and stands beside my seat

2) puts his hand over mine to put the van in park

3) turns off the radio, cruise control, heat, in that order.  God have mercy on your soul if one of those is already turned off

4) puts away my sunglasses in the flip-down holder

5) puts his hand over mine to turn the key and take it out of the ignition

6) unlocks all doors

On a nervous level high (orange) and above day like today, he does this entire process with one hand on my face.

Today, during this benediction, we have a few more interchanges about 

people's eye colors 

possible lunchfortodayis menu combinations 

Monty whining

Just to make sure I understand his emotional state, he holds both of my cheeks and insists "GN*!"

*GN is a throat sound that Anthony uses as a "word" when he needs to express the inexpressible (comparable to "smurf").

A few minutes later Anthony and I come in the door.  I am carrying the mail, my purse, two grocery bags, both backpacks and...(yup)...Anthony.  Sophie is already in her room, and I am pretty jealous of her at this second.

Anthony gets down (after one more face touch) and runs from window to window singing a song that starts with "Mommy, watch this!" (x 3) and morphs into random bits of recognizable tunes which all have the words replaced with "GN".

A few minutes later.

Anthony (frantic): MOMMY! Where did you go!?!?

Me: I am in the bathroom, Anthony.

Anthony (standing 1 mm away from the bathroom door): Are you pooping?
Me: I will be out very soon.

Anthony (reverse psychology): I don't want cereal for snack.
Me (careful not to use sarcasm): No. No cereal after school.

Anthony: Can you give me nowyourchoicesare?
Me (still in the bathroom): Good job using a question.  You can have nuts, raisins, or fruit before supper.

Anthony: or..........
Me (washing my hands): Those are your choices.

Anthony: or..........ice.......

Anthony: or..........ice crrrrrr......

Me (sternly): Those are your choices.

Anthony (yelling): OR......!?!?
Me: No yelling.  If you yell again, you will go to your room.  Not appropriate.

Sophie turns on the TV and sneezes at the same time in the other room.

Anthony (startled, starts yelling): ATTTCHOOOO!  I sneezed!  Say "blushyoo", Mommy!
Me: OK.  Go to your room to calm down.

Anthony (as I am firmly marching him upstairs): Did I sneeze, Mommy?
Sophie (snaps and starts screaming as we walk past her): NO! NO, you DIDN'T!  I SNEEZED!  ME!!!  NOT you!!!
Me: OK.  Both of you.  Upstairs.  Now.  Calm down.


They are both yelling at me all the way to their rooms.  
Anthy's opinions are mainly GN-related, and Sophie gives a Shakespearean-worthy monologue on the unfairness of her Life.  

While they are upstairs, I take the opportunity to search the house for chocolate/wine/earplugs/sedatives/cookies/muzzles.  
There are none of these items in my cabinets...the cabinets I can reach anyway.

A few minutes later.

Anthony (yelling from the top of the stairs): I am calm now, Mommy!
Me: OK.  Come downstairs.  Speak nicely to me.

Anthony (sweetly): I don't want to play MarioKart.
Me (wishing I had hidden the Nintendo DS): You can play while I cook.  Calm words.  Walk away when you are mad.

Anthony (plays video game; grinds teeth at every curve.  The "You Lost" music is playing.): YAY!  I won, Mommy!  Mommy?  I won.  IwonMommy, IwonMommy.
Me (noncommittally): I am glad you are having fun playing

Anthony (crying hysterically): Did I win, Mommy?
Scene fades.



From that moment until bedtime, we saw:

• 26 more GNs
• 3 more trips to his bedroom
• 2 more complaints about the unfairness of Life
• 1 mostly Mom-sided conversation about how boring Life would be if "completely fair"
• 11 more face touchings
• 2.5 minutes of blessed quiet in the basement bathroom before they found me
• 5 eye color discussions
• many, many deep breaths
• 2 (infinitely healing) bedtime hugs, kisses, and I love you, Mommys

Birthday Wishes

Today is my 41st birthday.

I am too old to declare last year (or the coming year) to be the "best year ever!!!"  I know that every year will have joy and sadness, comfort and challenge.  My birthday wish is that I experience each year (day, hour, minute) without having to constantly judge it.

One of my few beliefs is that it is more important to develop who I want to be rather than worrying about a bucket list of stuff that I want to "do".  However, I am old enough now to recognize that "who I want to be" - that person - sometimes does the difficult and scary things.  My birthday wish is have the courage to do when I see that "doing" needs to be "done".

I am zen enough to know that every thing I need is inside me, but I have been around long enough to be awed at loving friends and family in my Life.  I am overwhelmed with tears of joy and gratitude when surrounded by the people who want to celebrate my birthday.  My birthday wish is to be the kind of person that deserves having these people I love so much in my Life.

This year I have had much joy, I have had grief, I have had fear.  My birthday wish is to transform those feelings into a heart more open and humble.

Every, every moment is a gift.  I am so thankful for everyone I love.  My birthday wish is to keep enjoying the ones in front of me, while honoring those who are not.