Heartache

 Give up everything. 

Say goodbye to everything. 

God is better at planning than you,

So be ready to give it all up. 

Plan for everything. 

Schedule and hope and wish and build

But be ready for change. 

Be ready for change that rips your heart out. 

Say goodbye to everyone. 

Hold nothing higher than His plan. 

Because when your plans change, 

and your heart breaks…

Don’t blame God. 

Embrace that this was always the plan. 

And something better and more beautiful

Will come from this. 

I’m sorry Frank. I didn’t do right by you. I failed you. And I loves you so much. Lord, please have a better plan for my furry little family member. This hurts, so bad. 

Adventures

 My poppa died yesterday. There is a photo in his home with him, his brother and sister, and their spouses. No one is left in that photo. They’ve all passed on. Poppa’s brother died earlier this year. He was ten years older than him. Its hard not to feel like Poppa had ten more years if he wasn’t surrounded by such hateful negativity and enraged bitterness. His second wife was not a happy person. He was so sick, so put upon by his wife, so ready to go be with Nanny. I’m sad that he’s gone, but I also can’t help but feel peaceful and relieved that he’s not suffering anymore. There have been so many miracles around him and his life and this year is no different. But the end of this story is the happiest ever told because he gets to go be with Jesus and Manzi and Nanny. I’m a little bit jealous. But my heart is also aching from the gigantic gapping hole his death leaves in our lives.  

We leave for the airport tomorrow at 3:30am and I’m so scared. Am I doing the right thing? How are we going to get through this transition? Germany is such a new and intimidating experience. I don’t know how to rise to the challenge. I just have to put one foot in front of another and live the adventures Poppa always told me about. 

The things he got to experience, the life he lived, they were magical. Traveling and living in other countries, expanding his whole world, there wasn’t a place he couldn’t make home. I want to be open like that. I want to find home for my little family. I hope its right back here. But maybe that’s close-minded of me. Especially with my grandparents passing away, maybe there’s no cornerstones to build upon. Maybe we can be the cornerstones and my family will follow us to some exotic destination. 

I feel silly for even thinking it. I just want one more mustachioed spikey kiss. One more, “I brought some candies for the kids.” More more afternoon sitting around playing with my babies who favored him so much. 

Peace. That’s what I need. I need to feel peaceful.

Seperation

     My parents are separating. 

    After years of hoping and praying the cycle would end and we could all have some peace, here we are, at the edge of the end. 

    Why do I feel so sad? Why do I feel so defeated? I'm 31 years old and I know that its time for her to let his narcissistic butt go and learn to regulate on her own. And yet I still feel like a 12 year old wishing that all the love stories were real, that my dad cared about other people more than himself and that he would change, not just for her and for us, but for himself. He's not a bad person. He's just so self-protective against some imaginary rejection that it becomes a self-fullfilling prophecy and he pushes everyone away. And he's finally managed to push away the one person who has stuck by him through everything. Loss, death, job insecurity, borderline homelessness, and so many disappointed dreams. 

    My siblings are done with him. The only friends he has are addicts and depressed, and as he is on his journey to sobriety, I doubt they will stay in his life for long. Why do I still feel the need to justify my father? To hold his mental health as a personal priority?

     I am married with three children of my own, about to move to another country and I feel so lost because my parents aren't one unit anymore. I'm scared of all the changes coming. But I'm even more scared everything will be undone and it will go right back to how it was before. With my father relapsing, if he starts making all the right empty promises to my mom, and if she starts believing them. I want her to come with me, to get away from the possibility of reconciling. But she has a whole life here that she can't get away from. A sick father, a job that relies on her, friends and church and community responsibilites. I think its one of the things that gives her the strength to not be lonely. And to finally see my father as the anchor around her neck that has been weighing her down for years. But when she's still here, still available... I worry that he might manipulate his way back in to being taken care of again.

     But he seems just as done. She took him off his pedestal and has no interest in putting him back on it, and he wants nothing less than admiration. Not love. Not even respect. But complete admiration. Because he is, after all, the smartest one in the room at all times (in his opinion). 

    Why does this VERY RIGHT, VERY CORRECT, and LONG-TIME COMING change... make me so sad? Not just that... it makes me doubtful of my own marriage's ability to last? My marriage to a completely different man. My marriage that has never been the rose-colored glasses marriage my mother's was. My husband has a reliable job and provides us opportunities that I never could have dreamed of growing up in poverty. Things like... Owning a house. I know. A millennial who owns a house. Its unheard of. Not only that, but I'm able to be a stay-at-home mom. My husband continually sacrifices so that our kids can have everything they could need or want, to keep us all safe. And unlike my father, shows up for student-teacher conferences and plays, and birthday parties, and listens as the kids make up songs and put on fashion shows and tells them how much they are loved because of who they are and not how they make him look. 

    My husband is not my father. And I am not my mother. And the traumas I went through will not be my children's. And yet the fear lingers and the sorrow follows me and I am scared of the future.

New Adventures Ahead

 We are 45 days away from the biggest scariest move of my whole life. We are about to pack up all three of our beautiful babies, a cat and a big lovably dumb dog and fly to Germany where we will live for the next 3 years. I am very excited (aufregend) and very stressed (stressig). We prayed over this change every step of the way. There were many unknowns and everything was up in the air for a while. But we got our answer and now we prepare to completely change our lives. I don't know what to think, how to feel, what to plan for. I don't know what the weather is like, how our cell phones will work, what kind of house we'll live in, how to interact casually with locals... I have heard is very different. I don't know how to enroll my oldest into a new school... when to do that or how to do anything. I'm so scared of the future but I also don't know that there is anything to be scared of.

    People keep telling me that I have to take advantage of being over there while we're in Europe and see as much as I can while there. But that thought freaks me out. I don't speak any other language besides English and even that I don't speak clearly enough to be understood. I just feel like I'm going to try to do what I can, take a few opportunities, but mostly just try to survive. Traveling with three little kids just to another state is stressful enough, let alone another country where they don't speak the same language. I do want to take my train-lover on some train rides, and I promised my oldest Duck that we would try to see Paris. But other than that, I'm going to stick pretty close to my bubble. At least that's how I feel about it right now. We'll see once I get there. 

    My husband is actually doing a new job for the USAF, with slightly different responsibilities so there's a pretty big possibility that I will be alone a lot more. At least 4 times a year, if not more. He will be deploying and going on trainings pretty regularly. I'm not looking forward to that, but I will cross each bridge as I come to it. I'm so nervous. I don't know what I don't know. I just wish I had someone to talk to who's been there and knows how to do this. I've never even been on a rotator before. And I'm worried about my dog because he didn't actually get one of the very limited pet spots on the plane, so I have to send him out later on a different flight, or possibly with my parents when they come to visit shortly after I get there. And then I have to fly back all by myself in November for one of my very best friends' wedding... So I have to be there for that, and flying alone freaks me out, especially from another country that doesn't speak my language!!!! I don't know how to do any of this stuff. Lord be with me. I'm so fearful. 

    I am learning Deutsch to try to prepare for this change. And I do know that a lot of German people speak English. It doesn't change the fear though. Not many people do something like this and no one really has any advice for me. Not in my family, anyway. I just have to do it and when I'm on the other side, be proud of myself for surviving. 

Baby Book is Complete

     How did this happen? When did my first baby become a child? I have reached the end of her baby book. There are no more pages to fill out. No more infant-firsts, no more baby experiences to be had by my oldest. 

    She is in school. I know she will have many more firsts, but the infant time, the baby time, the toddler time... are all memories. I wouldn't say the time flew by. But it passed with an aching speed that I fought and held on to, cursed and blessed, railed against and reveled in. I cannot believe her baby book is full.

     Her legs are so long now. I can still carry her. She still wants endless snuggles and asks if she can sleep with mommy and daddy. I still catch her sneaking into my bed in the early hours of the morning. She's brimming with bat facts, obsessed with "Teeniepings", and resolutely dedicated to the color purple. She's a picky eater, and a warrior for animals, insisting all things should be taken care of, even sharks. But not ants. She hates ants. There's no page in her baby book for that though. 

   How can it be full? How is there not a page for her 10th birthday? Her first day of high school? Her wedding day? How can the first day of Kindergarten mark the last day of having her be my baby? I can't wrap my head around it. I have so much babying left to do. 

   Will she let me grab her and snuggle her like this in a year? What will her first day of 1st grade look like? Will we live here? My husband Petal has already applied to move overseas. What if we're somewhere in Europe? Or in the tropics? How come there's no page in the baby book for moving? 

   Will we remember everything about these years living at home? What if she forgets because there's nothing to hold on to? I remember everything about my childhood because I lived in my childhood home until I was an adult. What if she doesn't have that? She already doesn't remember where she was born. She was only 2 when we moved here. How can we move again? 

    Are we making the right choices for her, or is this selfish? I wish I knew what to do. I wish I knew what to look out for... what was important to remember... but there are no more pages in her baby book. No more memories to fill in. No more predetermined questions for me to discover the answers to. I just have to... figure it out, I guess. 

To-Do List Undone

Its never enough even when its too much

The smell of your head, hair soft to the touch. 

I’ve forgotten the screaming from when you were awake. 

I’ve forgotten the chores you made me forsake. 

All I see is an angel where my opponent once stood, 

The light of my life, all gentle and good. 

Did I really sigh in frustration when I heard you cry?

Did I prioritize tasks when you were nearby? 

Who was the person who dared put you down

For the sake of the laundry, that stupid old clown?

It couldn’t have been me when I love you so

That I sit right here even when I could go. 

To-do lists still waiting; interrupted, half-done

But all I can do is sit and watch my dear one.

Watch you snore in your bed, mouth slightly a-gape

Making no use of the time I have tried to escape. 

I want to bottle each moment and save them for later,

When I’m less stressed, but time is a traitor. 

It never sits still, much like these children of mine

Who keep on growing and changing with time. 

I wouldn’t change it, each stage is a gift, 

But wouldn’t it be nice if I wasn’t on shift?

No more working, just games to be played 

With these wonderful children, the people I’ve made. 

Don’t give up on me when I’ve had a bad day,

I’m sorry. And thank you. Its all I can say. 

I love you, Tallulah, Evie and Finn. 

You make this a life I’m thrilled  to be in. 

Tired like a Mother

 I feel so used up by the end of each day. I have no more patience, no more energy, no more brain power. My body has been a playground all day, pulled on, poked, scratched, pushed against, fed on. My skin is sore from constant touches, but so is my soul, my emotional capacity, even my aura feels totally and completely touched out. Overstimulated, overwhelmed, overworked, over everything. The noise has been too loud, too constant, too worrying. Who hit who? What show can we all agree on? Is that the baby in the bedroom, waking up from a nap? Let's play the song one more time and then be done. Is there any chance anyone wants to go outside and be loud out there so mommy can have five minutes of silence? My brain is full of lists, groceries that need to be purchased, chores that need to be done. We just had a four day weekend, did he really not get to the lawn? When is the package with summer clothes arriving? Do we already need more diapers? I really need to go through everyone's drawers and pull out the things that don't fit... I'm always playing catch up. I'm so tired. I'm so drained. I'm so empty.

But also full. I am full of love. I'm full of kisses, and answers to questions, and songs. I'm full to overflowing for these tiny amazing crazy-makers. I have time for one more book, one more song, one more kiss, one more prayer over the heads of my sleepy-eyed babies. I could get up one more time for one more last minute need. Because there always is. One more request for water. One more precious snuggle. One more question about the mysteries of the universe.

And when the new baby, baby number three, daughter number two, my sweet and precious angel, needs to be snuggled and fed at some ungodly hour of the night, I will have more milk, more snuggles, I will lean in to smell that little head, even though I've sniffed it a thousand times today. And when the older two come in at the crack of dawn, while my husband gets up to get ready for his day at work, I will have arms enough for all three of them, one more hour of sleepy snuggles until they begin their day of making requests and demands. 

I will survive this part of life. And I know I will look back on it with fondness and longing and exhaustion and gratitude. I will mourn the loss of the littlest phase, missing the babies and toddlers who have sprouted to children and teens and adults. There will never be enough. And yet it is exactly enough. And too much. The universe is packed into a marble. And I keep finding it in the pockets of my kids' clothing before processing a thousand loads of laundry.