Don't be afraid of the dark....

"One Two, Freddy's Comin' for you .Three-four, better lock your door. Five-Six, grab your crucifix. Seven-Eight, better stay awake. Nine-Ten, never sleep again." 

Most of my childhood (you can ask anyone) was spent idolizing(yeas, messed up as it may be) Freddy Kreuger, Chucky, Jason Vorhees, and Michael Meyers movies. The favorite of course being Nightmare on Elm street and Child's Play. 

In the early 90's there were these toys called "My Buddy" dolls. I'm convinced that, either they were made as a result of Chucky dolls, or Chucky movies were made as a result of the My Buddy dolls....with the likelihood that in some world, some where- some kid said his doll was talking to him, and making him do crazy things. I remember I'd scare my sister, by pretending the doll we had at home, was indeed Chucky, and in fact out to get her. 

   


Although I probably missed most of the Freddy-buzz when the Nightmare on Elm Street movies first came out, I was a huge fan by the time I was 4. 

I, my sisters and my cousin can attest to our infamous weekend nights at grandma and grandpa's house sitting on the couch with popcorn watching this beyond-scary-striped red and green sweater wearing-cellar-lurking psychopath on the USA network, curled up feeling as though we were getting away with murder (No pun intended), getting to watch this movie as Grandma sat in the background shaking her head at Grandpa's bad influence. 

I remember my grandpa used to remind me of Freddy Kreuger, in his basement with his wood burning stove. I remember being scared to death sometimes at night, to even look down those stairs at my grandparent's house...for fear that indeed, freddy kreuger would be standing there waiting for me in the "cellar". 

Little did I know that Freddy would essentially haunt my scariest of dreams, for the remainder of childhood and early adulthood. I to this day, still find Freddy in the background of my worst nightmares...






Movies out there today aren't the same. They're scarier. They're more frightening, and more realistic...and more intending to screw with your mind to the point of sleeping with the light on for a month after watching the movie, or-  until you forget about it enough to fall asleep without the paralyzing fear of whatever horror character is haunting your thoughts that day.

I scare myself so much sometimes I can't stand to walk into a room that's dark, without turning on the light first.

I don't even like the 6-7 o'clock hours of October, because I literally feel like I'm stuck in a Halloween movie, wondering when a hockey-mask-wearing killer is going to follow me into my house without me even feeling the breeze as he snuck past me! 



And so, movies continue to get scarier and as I get older, Halloween continues to get creepier and i find myself just waiting for Christmas because at least then....There's no scary times to dread! 

Big Sippy Cup

Last night Adyson, in all of her 13 month old "big baby" self, sat in front of my counter in the kitchen, as i washed the dishes- and as she howled with hurt as I denied her, her bottle. The bottle sat on the counter, waiting to be washed- as she held a miniature sippy cup, that could only hold about 5 or 6 ounces of milk. She held the green cup with little excitement, continued her tantrum- and threw it across the floor.

I turned my head as I watched the cup roll and hit the refrigerator. I looked to Adyson with alligator tears streaming down her face- her mute cries breaking through every so often through the sobbing, and I,  shortly later deciding that today- would not be the day I take away her bottle. It would not be the day that I make her "Act her age".
Today would be the day, as all of the other days before- that I give in to her being a baby.
I would hold her with her bottle full of warm milk , because she refuses to drink it cold, I would rock her gently back and forth as we watch TV before bedtime and settle into our normal nighttime routine.

Today, being a new day, I sat down with the yellow pad of paper and pen, to write out the grocery list. I went down the lines crossing off all of the food and other household supplies needed for the week, as I arrived to the last line.... I half-heartedly scribbled down three words...

Big . Sippy . Cup. 

I found myself writing these words with hesitation and a little bit of sideways smirk on my face. Only half-believing in these words anyway. Knowing in the back of my mind that this cup, like others- would end up on the shelf for several more weeks until I worked up the courage to do the unthinkable.

Could I possibly take all of the bottles- box them up into a bin to put away on a shelf or store downstairs with all of the other baby things that have been put away, never to be seen again? Could I really just go cold-turkey and get rid of one of the last traces of baby-life for Adyson?

I should also note that , at daycare -- she does not get a bottle. She does not get a pacifier. All methods that Miss Beth implemented when I said, let's start trying to do the big cup instead of a bottle. And so, one day- I stopped bringing her to daycare with a pacifier, and Beth stopped offering a bottle.

Little does Miss Beth know,  Adyson still gets that bottle and Paci at night with Ma-Ma. :-) 
I think I find myself grasping for the little moments still of baby-life with her but find myself at the same time, trying to find the line between making her into a "big girl" and keeping her little. We're really just working on their timeline anyway. Change happens when they're ready for it to happen, and permanent changes happen when we're ready to let them!

Concrete Angel(s)

“A statue stands in a shaded place

An angel girl with an upturned face
A name is written on a polished rock
A broken heart that the world forgot” 
― Martina Mcbride


Driving home today from work i found myself stopped at a corner, waiting for the cars in a hurry to pass by- off to their own destinations here and there, everyone more in a hurry than the last. So, I try to be less in an emergency myself.. and so, I  sit to wait for the traffic to move on. I look to my left then to my right to make sure all is well, but just as I start to ease forward , i notice two small children getting off of the yellow school bus in front of me.

The girls couldn't have been older than 5 and 4, give or take... and as the two held hands and continued on past the 1st, the 2nd, and the 3rd house past the bus stop... I found myself looking in the rear view mirror, wondering just how far these two had to go..before their mother or father- stepped out happily from their door steps - to greet them home from their long day at grade school. To unbundle them from the cool fall day.. to empty out their backpacks to see the notes from the teachers, to sit them down for a snack in front of their favorite afternoon cartoon?

Then, as i lost them in the distance... I felt overwhelmingly sad. I wondered... did they have someone waiting for them at home?

I was listening just the other day to the radio, sponsoring their annual "Roof-sit-for-kids" benefit. They announced that they raised almost 150,000 dollars to go towards prevention and other areas of need involving child abuse all over michigan. I learned several years ago though, to not pay too much listening time to that particular time of year for the radio. It's too sad.

It's a lifetime movie that you can't turn off, or switch to another happy channel- because you know that what you're turning off- is real for someone. The pain, and sorrow and awful reality of these petrifying stories of child abuse, neglect and complete lack of humanity... are true.

I always shake my head, because that's all that i can do, at stories like this. Terrifying clips on the news depicting another fatality for a child lost to the hands of his or her own mother or father, or someone else in their life who they were supposed to be in "safe hands" with. It's like we've become immune to these stories. Stories set aside in the line-up next to the evening weather, and evening sports clip... Another typical reason why i do not watch the news.

As an important side note. If there is a Hell where people who have done immeasurable Bad on Earth--- I would hope there is a special place for anyone who has done any hurt or irreparable harm to children here.

Party Animal.

"When I was a child I spoke as a child I understood as a child I thought as a child; but when I became a man I put away childish things." I Cor. xiii. 11.

Every now and again I find myself getting a little stir-crazy. I have the need to get dressed up, hair curled, makeup applied to perfection , heels on my feet that are more painful than the look is worth, and a little black dress that makes me feel like marilyn monroe at least for the night. A cinderella story that makes me feel like for a few moments that I am the superstar and everyone is watching me. 

So I go through the motions:

Find the sitter. 

Tuck my hunnie-pie in bed, in her warm footy- "jam jams".

Kiss her goodnight.

Give instructions to the teen that I used to be, responsible for just more than sinking into the couch for the evening, to watch an abundance of Jersey Shore or Teen Mom- 

And off I go. 

Every now and again, these nights are needed.

 Not just the usual trip to the bowling alley donning the notorious black top with jeans and black boots. We're talking,  taking a road down the long winding, exhausting trip, better known as downtown Grand Rapids.

Ah yes, into the land where Everyone feels like they're the superstar... And where every 20 something is on the prowl for the most drunken-evening filled with loud music so obnoxious that you can't hear the person across the table saying how AWESOME this bar is.

 *eye roll. 

And then the old-lady card gets figuratively slapped on my forehead. Despite how amazing I may feel in my hot black dress and superstar mentality- I feel like I'm melting away into the distance, watching a bad Teen Movie, portraying the many annoyances that I once felt about high school.

Every girl looks exactly the same. 

Every guy is looking for the girl who looks like the last girl, who just turned him down at the bar.

Every waitress  ignores the girl ordering the beer, 

But flaunt themselves to the drunk ordering tequila and some stupid shot named after the stripper down on the local corner. 

"YEAHHH LETS TAKE A PURPLE-HAIRED-SPICY LUCY SHOT"

 YAAAAH *FIST PUMP.

And the worst part is , people like these places. People go out all of the time, weekly and sometimes more than that- to bar hop. To go to more and more of these identical bars with Irish names with notoriety for being a breeding ground for drunken disorderly conduct. 

And I find it difficult to put on the party-face, and just blend in. 

Blend in with the girl next to me who's most responsibility in life is to pay her parents 100 bucks for rent- and to make sure she can struggle through her English 101 course down at the community college to try and make it on the Dean's list. 

*sigh.  To be without obligations right? 

And I say it without an ounce of envy in my voice, I can assure you. The fact remains that with life comes maturity and growth.. IT has to. 

Yet , there are people who manage to continue on with life- acting as though they are not supposed to move forward. 

I got told the other day that my "three drink limit" followed by an early-night-bedtime, was depressing. Why does it have to be? Why can't the expectation be the opposite. That we embrace being adults and acting like normal functioning members of society, instead of feigning for the next hangover and feeling awful about poor decisions made the night previous? 

The world is filled with Snooki-lindsay lohan-reality tv star wannabe's. 

We're trained to be stupid. 

Anticipation of Change

I mentioned the other day to someone, when talking about the new changes coming up; different job- less days, working one job instead of two, less daycare for Adyson (more time with me), different-but-better hours… changes overall. He nicely said, “It’ll be fine Amanda, you’ll do great ”.

 I went on to explain the general turmoil/ anxiety that I go through when I make a big change like that. It’s funny how certain moments stand out for us that brought life change…

There was the switching gradeschools going into 3^rd grade, as my earliest memory of change…learning that fear of change by the time you’re 8, knowing that everything as you know it- worrying about lunch tables, friends at recess, and sleepover buddies--- is all changing.

I went from a small class of 10 in 8th grade,  to what seemed like Europe in comparison to my small little world of elementary school...And it might as well have been just as foreign. The ideas of going into a school where everyone knew everyone- but me- terrified me...  For all i cared, i could have remained in 8th grade forever if it meant i could have avoided the anxiety of yet another, "new" school.

 Graduating a high school with a student body of 600, moving on into a world of millions, bringing on an entire future lifetime of change. No wading into the waters, getting your feet wet. No adjusting over summer break into the idea of a new place or new circumstance… 18 to adulthood after a few words, “congratulations class of 2006”, with the metaphoric plunge into the deep end; sink or swim.

I spent a while, it seemed, doing the  monotonous motion of working and partying, trying to find some sort of meaning for my life--the politically correct term of your care-free 18 year old... "self discovery"....but as it always does, it got old quickly,  and the “restless life syndrome” kicked in. I needed change. Even at the thought of change when you’re younger, you learn to dread. The evolution of and maturity into actually seeking out and craving change makes me laugh now;  the contrast of views between adolescent and adult on the topic of change, makes me smile to say the least.

Nursing school by all respects was one of the biggest battles that I’d won in my lifetime. I remember the “acceptance letter” from the DON…feeling on top of the world, nursing graduation saying goodbye to friends and text books, sitting for the nursing state boards; crying afterwards feeling as though I’d failed the only test of my adult life that I HAD to pass. Clicking enter one last time online to see my fate; “Pass” flashing across the screen, was the relief of a lifetime. Working in the nursing home, seeking something else. Moving onto an office, into a foreign specialty I’d known minimal information about- and with no plans to turn back to long term care or rehab facilities.

Adyson. . .

The biggest, most exciting change of my life thus far. Who also brought the real world of adulthood with her to me- all conveniently wrapped up in that little pink blanket; motherhood, my first house, responsibility etc… A task and change, I jumped into headfirst without any second thoughts or any regrets hereafter. With her being born came not one new person, but two- the second being myself. Choices, decisions, changes…all revolve  now, around her. 

Today, I feel panic set in again sometimes when I think about the last couple of years that I’m leaving behind here at the office, moving onto something new with a new job… but at the same time I stop in awe at everything that came with me moving into my position here over these years. Changes I never knew would accompany me upon leaving. Growth that I’d never known possible. People that I will never forget, the laughs and jokes shared with office staff and providers, natural frustrations and bumps along the way, motivation for growth as a nurse with plenty of people pushing me forward- all a part of this new person that I am now working on becoming.

Only thing left to do now, is embrace new changes… and try to push aside the fear that we’re trained to attach with the excitement- and jump in again, feet first- and prepare to land into something new and different… and in a couple of years,  I’ll look back again and realize what this new change meant for me with the same weight and heaviness that I feel now, in moving forward.



The Win

 

I’d like to think in my older years I’ve grown a lot, learned enough, and gained enough self-control to say that I’ve matured very well into adulthood. I can say that I have taken on my role as a functioning member of society with ease, and the adjustment period was relatively minimal. I was the girl who talked about her first house and dream job- by the time I was 15. I was getting bathroom sets, microwaves and vacuums,  things that normally don’t come until college years,  for Christmas by the time I was 16.

I would sit down with my mom on a Friday night and write out how much things cost; light bills, heating, groceries, car payments, and everything else that it takes to run a house and life on a month-to-month basis! Needless to say- I was ready.

Now, the thing most everyone brushes over is that regardless of you’re age, you continue to grow and learn. You figure out weaknesses in your character and try to grow from them- at the same time without taking it too hard when the brick wall of imperfection comes out of nowhere, bluntly stopping you in your tracks of progress.

For me, it’s when I feel that my blood is boiling. I can literally feel my blood pressure creeping up into danger-zone, heart racing, pupils dilating. It’s when I literally feel the argument raising up into my vocal cords and using every ounce of physical strength in me- to keep my jaw shut, knowing that once my mouth opens- the flood gates are down; there’s no turning back from that point.

Usually the tears come later, but sometimes they’re the first to arrive. The words start flowing and the anger is radiating through my whole body at this point. Generally I try to keep my cool until the argument is through- but that’s never a guarantee. Everything I’ve held in to that point related to the directed target, comes out.

 Self-control is gone and it’s a firing squad of insults and backhanded remarks- which might as well have been a physical assault because it comes out just as harsh and cold. 

I’ve gotten pretty good at the cool calm and collected arguments; using that method to irritate the other person enough to get them to the point of backing down first. I understand what it takes to get them there- and I use it as weapon of mass destruction all of it’s own category. Be neutral and as careless in the argument as possible. Be the person with the level head in the argument- and wait for the opposition to crack. Think of what they’ll say first, so you can already prepare your response. Stay  5 steps ahead of them, without them knowing they’ve even missed a beat.

The storming away usually gets me the most satisfaction. Instant-win scratch offs aren’t even as affirming. This means you won, white flags up, no questions asked- no instant replay needed,  end of story- book closed. A subtle smirk, and feeling all of your fight-or-flight responses calming down, bringing you to the point of reality and stability while your fellow arguer stomps away in rage, stewing and upset- continuing to do so– for the remainder of the day.

It’s worth it really. 

But hey, we all have growing up to do, right? J



Welcome to your Life

I was talking with some friends today about how hard it is to raise kids. I found myself laughing because, I myself, never really liked kids before I had one of my own. I didn't really like other's people's children, especially ones I did not know. The loud, whiney, misbehaved, annoying ones... you know the kind. Well, to me, all kids were that way. And frankly, I had no intention of indulging in the possibility that someday, I might just have a naughty or bratty child of my own!

Then. Like pandora's box- the world opened up as soon as I found out I was going to be a mother myself! Children were cute. Drool was funny and adorable. Loud yelling in the store, was all of a sudden a happy screech and was just another happy kiddo using the world as his or her playground. Babies were huggable and not so much breakable. The baby section at the store wasn't a waste of space, but an amazing adventure to hunt and search through to find the next amazing deal to prepare for the coming months for my daughter coming into this world.

Everything changes.

While talking with my friend across the street, the inevitable comment happened, as it usually does in new circumstances and with new friends in new conversations. As this comment does not get brought up frequently in the close-knit circles of my family or friends who know me enough to not say it, or know me enough that they just better not even think it.

"Well, I can't imagine

 how hard it must be sometimes 

for you doing all of this on your own". 

And, all at once. there it happens. my skin feels like jumping off of my body- and i can't help but feel like running out of the room kicking and screaming like a 5 year old. But- instead. I take a breath, a nice calm easy swallow- and proceed to explain that; you do what you have to do. 


I am no saint. I am no martyr. I do not expect pitty or sadness or anxiety or any other negative emotion about my own situation. Because like everyone else's story; this story is my own.

I work hard for everything I have. It's not always a glorious adventure that I skip through with a happy smile on my face and have rainbows with happy fluffy things radiating from my soul- sometimes it has darkness. Sometimes it is stormy, and long and tiring. Sometimes my moods get in the way of my day, and sometimes- it's exhausting.

I wish i could say that I saw my life being much different than it is now... but truly , as most of my high school pals can vouch for, I really didn't see my future much past 21. (hah). It was almost a humorous thing to bring up when you talked about futures, and lives after partying and the next friday night- or the next monday-sunday nights. When you have no purpose in life, which most adolescents without obligations don't, it's hard to see a solid future.

Granted, anyone can say - i want a nice house, a nice car, a good job blah blah blah. Your cookie cutter , perfect paint by number collage fantasy of your "future" life.

Which is funny, because by the time you reach that age of really thinking about futures, and adulthood- you should already know that life is no fairy tale, with no perfect path to the right direction. In fact most of us find ourselves fumbling, and stumbling through what seems like pitch-black darkness until we realize, we're IN our lives, and we are IN our futures.


Next thing you know- here you are. Adulthood. Grown up. "Mature".

You're expected to be all of these things, and I won't lie- there's a bit of guilt that comes along when I'm not all of those things.

I've always had an intense predisposition to cynicism. I'm sarcastic about anything that you can be sarcastic about. I'm not always at my best- when I know that I should be. Here I am , a mom- and I feel like I should have the world figured out. Like, I should have all of the answers on the silver platter- waiting to be served out to anyone who asks for them.


See, I don't think just because we get somewhere in life- regardless of the milestone- that we are automatically expected to have it all lined up perfectly. But apart of me still feels like I should be better. Does it mean I have growing up still to do? Maybe. But maybe more importantly those things that I do not know, or do not fully understand yet about my life- or about my future and or purpose... maybe those things aren't meant for me to figure out. It's kind of another instance where you don't know the answer, or the direction or path you're on- until you're there, at your destination...Staring at a big Welcome to your Life sign; only to take a few steps forward and realize you're on a whole other journey questioning the same things, all over again.

"Everything"

I have a habit of making, and breaking plans.

I say I’ll call – then sometimes I won’t.

I’ll make excuses for not going somewhere, or not keeping plans. 

Reasons appear out of midair,

All to get out of something that shouldn’t be a chore, or tiring-

I make my way out of things, quite often.

 

I cling tight to things that are easy.

Things that require no effort at all.

Admittedly, I’m a bit antisocial.

I’d rather stay home.. most of the time.

 

I have a habit of being impulsive.

I over-analyze, most things.

When I want something, I’ll probably get it.

I can make a list of things to do,

And only get to a few of them.

And I still sleep, just fine.

 

I’d rather watch a movie, than do things that should be done.

I’d rather eat fast food, than make a healthy meal at home.

I’d rather use my dryer’s high heat, than use an iron.

I’d rather take the long way home, than the short route.

 

I usually don’t listen when I’m given advice.

I will figure it out on my own,

Admitting you were right, years later.

 

I say I’m ok , when I’m not.

I’ll smile when I want to scream, or cry.

 

I still listen to 90’s boybands,

And I will rock out to them in my car, and shower.

I liked Nsync, and BSB – equally.

Dawson’s creek reminded me of my highschool boyfriend.

Every episode…

And-

I secretly wanted it to be Joey and Pacey, the whole time.

 

I am a hopeless romantic,

But I cringe at overly touchy-couples.

Unless its me.

Then,  I don’t mind PDA at all.

 

I will do what I want.

Generally, I hate authority.

I’ll ask what you think,

But hate the criticism, no matter how constructive.

I lose my temper, more often than not.

 

A part of me wants to start all over,

And go to school to be a lawyer.

 

I check my pocket for my keys, at least three times.

Before I shut the house, or car door.

 

I check the mirror a lot, To make sure I look alright.

I’m arrogant , and self conscious

Usually at the same time.

I’m can be put together to a T,

But a mess with the rest of them too.

 

 

“I blame everyone else, not my own partaking
My passive-aggressiveness can be devastating
I'm terrified and mistrusting 
And you’ve never met anyone as, 
As closed down as I am sometimes.

You see everything, you see every part 
You see all my light and you love my dark 
You dig everything of which I'm ashamed 
There's not anything to which you can’t relate 
And you’re still here”

---Everything

Alanis Morisette

 

 

 

"I Saw God Today"

          Today was mother's day... not just any mother's day- but, my first mother's day , as a mom. 

It was a good day. Adyson slept in until pretty late, for her normal 6:05 wake-up, like in some way she knew it was a day for her mom, and she should hold off on her morning jabber, for at least 45 minutes longer than the normal wake up call. We stayed in bed for an unnecessary amount of time, but- I can't help but to hang out with her as much as, and as long as possible, when I can on days like today... I'd give everything to be able to get more moments like that.. 

My head, nice and snug next to her forehead, while she lays there half awake, half asleep, waiting for me to make my move after a long time of contemplating, coffee- or more sleep, one arm wrapped around her stomach like she was my softest, most-delicate pillow in the house. That is where I'd rather stay, in bed with my hunnie, snuggled next to her mom; not a care in the world. 

The world however, has a way, of pulling us out of bed. Dragging us to our feet; the unvierse silently giving us our chores and to-do lists for the day, letting us know that to waste another minute, means too many things will remain undone. So, we stop doing the things we would rather be doing, and move onto the tedious and often monotonous parts of our days. Sometimes I look at a day or two at a time and think, where did those days, and hours even go? You turn on auto-pilot and just coast through the day, then before you know it another week is behind you and so on and so forth.

It was easier to live that life, that way without a baby in the picture. Life could go by without any worries about the time that's been missed. Days and weeks and sometimes months often flew by without even having to think about the time that's past. Measuring of time often recorded solely by the pay-check cycle, a funny story or a picture or two to make us remember a day or a moment that's gone by.

Now although time seems to go all too fast for my liking, there's moments that I feel last forever (not just the, waiting in the doctor's office for the slow doctor, never nurse of course, type of waiting). This is the type of slow motion moment that you literally feel like time is slowing down, just to take it all in- with a nice deep, cleansing breath letting the moment completely take over everything and anything in your body and mind. That moment today, driving home from my mom's, after burgers and Sunday/ Mother's day hangout time.

It was just after 7pm, heading home. I decided to take another trip around the block because Adyson was enjoying the ride in the backseat, kicking her barefeet in her pajamas, looking out the window enjoying the view with the window only slightly cracked to give her a little breeze. The sun was still out, mid-sky ready to start the retreat for sunset...It reminded me of all of the nights driving out to the beach in high school, just for fun, just for a mini-trip to the lake and pier.

 Adyson had her feet crossed like she was sitting in the most comfortable recliner, kicked back in her pajamas, relaxing in her carseat, head titled slightly, resting effortlessly against the side of her carseat and looking out the window. She was talking to herself, chewing on her fingers and her toy-keys for a while, until she got quiet.

Sucked into the powerful zone of sleep and being awake...

I turned my rear view mirror to see her behind me, figuring she'd gone to sleep. But as i pulled to a stop at the stop light, and looked into the backseat she was sitting- peacefully looking out of the window at a tree just outside the window a the edge of the road. I reached back to touch the bottom of her foot, to tickle her and pull her out of her trance, and she turned to me, big heavy blue eyes, tired but completely attentive to my touch. And she smiled. The toothless grin that melts me, the one that takes every bit of sadness, anger, and probably most any negative emotion in me- and wipes the slate clean.

That's the moment when you're super mom. When everything you do is right and perfect, nothing you do could be wrong, you are the lifeline, you are the source of everything good for that little one. The one smile seems to just radiate through you with more power than you'd ever feel from any one human- and a tiny-human at that! It's the best healer, and It truly is,  the best medicine.

"I've been to church
I've read the book
I know he's here
But I don't look
Near as often as I should
Yeah, I know I should
His fingerprints are everywhere
I just slowed down to stop and stare
Opened my eyes and man I swear
I saw God today"

--George Strait

"I Saw God Today"