Interesting saying right? It's been a while since my last post, things have been a little hectic. I would dare to say more than hectic. In fact what hasn't killed us... well you how the saying goes.
Raising kids is tough work - power to the single parents truly doing this alone. Raising step-kids I still think tougher than dealing with your own. The past two years have been a true test. A test from teenagers struggling to find their way, to our youngest realizing some ugly truths, a test of marriage and commitment, of love and respect and ultimately of strength and patience.
I thought we had a pretty good family unit for a while - we are a blended family and one who always operated pretty well. Without knowing if it is due to true teen angst, suppressed hatred or anger or 'rumblings' amongst households, we have had quite a show of drama. Some typical, some not. I ask myself 'is this what I put my parents through?'. I know it isn't - maybe a slight version but not the ugliness we have had.
All I can say is the grace and patience my husband has shown through the disrespect, the slaps in the face, the boldface lies, sleepless nights is that of Jobe. He has held me as I shake and say "I just cannot do this", has put up with my frustration, has stood strong, has buckled, has had his own moments of jerkdom but has held it together more than not and most of all has shown love every step of the way. Of course not everyone sees it that way....Maybe one day...
So here I am, back to my virtual diary and the therapy it brings. Hoping that we have turned a bit of a corner in our personal little space in this world. Stay tuned.
From a stronger me
A while ago I was fighting the good night ritual. It had become a not so pleasant one, and I spent so much time wishing it would pass. Lots of anxieties, worries about surviving through the night. Questions that I could not answer. What was once such a sweet innocent time of snuggling and kisses and sometimes impatience had become a time of stress, sadness and loss for knowing what to do.
Then, it happened, the anxiety slowly was cured. FANTASTIC you say! Yes it was. But then it became too cool to say good night. Too cool for snuggles. I am a man now and don't need to be tucked in. What!?!? How did I know that despite the stress and true worry those nights had, I would eventually miss not having it at all.
Which brings me to last night, it was rough. After a sleep-over and learning that sleep probably did not happen we suffered through the crankiness and tude-ness of it's aftereffects; eventually we were able to have a discussion and kissed and made up. The rest of the night was one I wish I could hold onto forever. Pleasant conversation. Snuggles on the couch while watching TV and even a 'mom... can you come up and say good night. that show freaked me out a bit'. Me: (WHAT? YES!, wait play it cool mom!!) umm I mean sure. if that is what you want.
Thinking in my head of course, trying hard not to show I was really dancing a jig. My 'man' who was too cool and too grown up was spooked. And who did he want? That's right, ME! Momma! MEEEE! I can't even tell you how that felt.
I climbed to the top of the stairs and walked in. There he was blankets up to his eyebrows and he looked barely over them and welcomed me into bed. He did not want to talk, he just wanted me there. I sucked every second of it in. Breathing in his hair that doesn't smell so baby fresh anymore but smelled just delightful in his own way. Kissing his forehead and cheek, his skin still soft, not yet giving into adolescence and stubble (THANK GOODNESS!). Saying as I used to say every night "I love you, remember you are AMAZING'. I got the usual tired moan-groan knowing he was just about in that falling asleep mode, he did share a 'love you tooooo' whisper.
I laid there not wanting to leave but knowing the bed was not big enough for the two of us. I wondered how many more nights like this I may get. I wanted to bottle it up and then began to resent myself for not embracing the past nights more. How stupid of me!!! But I quickly shoved that voice out of my head, knowing it is something that has to happen, and so often is felt by hurried parents. I didn't need to beat myself over it. I needed to be thankful for even being able to have those nights at all. I had been a single parent, I had worked two jobs - I knew what it was like to not even have the time to savor a good night. So I told that voice to bugger off.
I stayed a bit longer just smelling and listening to his breath and having my cheek pressed to his. I said I love you one more time and whispered 'remember you're amazing' again. Just because. I walked out and looked back and realized how truly blessed I am. Despite my rough patch now. I know I am. But I still don't want to say goodnight to 'goodnights'.
