ONE FRESH WISH

Really bad things happen to good people. It is always going to be that way. Pain is a word that you think you know until it slices away parts of your life and soul. The idea that it will ever get better, that you can fix any part of yourself, that you could ever imagine feeling anything again is foreign. Often, just someone trying to get you to understand that from the outside vacillates between annoying and insane. I am not interested in any one's idea of what I am going through or how to heal. This pain belongs to me. I have to be the one to decide what to do with it.

Today I reread the first poem I ever had published and wept. That 15 year old had no idea what real, destructive, all encompassing pain was. She was still an optimist:

I'm surrounded by yesterdays,
Forever memories that don't fade away.
Constructing tomorrows from what used to be,
The most important to me.
Dreams that float in my mind,
No order of any kind.
Creating happiness from mere thoughts,
For happiness is always sought.
I, romanticist, as they say?
Well, my dreams are good today.

I was seeing life through a fairy tale lens. What amazes me still is that it took me 23 years to find out that is not what it is really like. How do you explain this stuff to kids? How do I help my kids, really my girls, not be so surprised about what life can do when they think they they have every single thing they ever wanted and love deeper than they thought possible? How do I inspire them to dream, be excited and accepting of the great things they are destined to? How do I pass on joy?

I have to convince myself that fairy tales are possible...even if optimism has eluded me all these many months past.

So I try. I really try. Some days, I am better than others. I try hard to push past the pain and learn a lesson EVERY SINGLE DAY. It is hard. It pisses me off, yet still, I get up and I really try. This week, while listening to The Secret audio version on my commute for about the 100th time, a story stood out, advice I decided to take. I won't bore you with the details but it was a gentleman that creates visualization boards, what he wants his life to look like, things he wants to have, the way he wants to live. Once he has those things, he creates a new one and thus far, the universe continues to reward his work.

What can it hurt? I crave the bliss and hope of an idealistic, positive person. I desire the ability to give into my wants and strike a balance between impulse and restriction. I have new places to visit, new foods to try, new things to learn, new friends to meet...and peace. I am thankful for the peace that is headed my way. I can't wait to relax and breathe. That is my one fresh wish.

Scribble Cookies

Ancient Mommy Secret to keep busy during the summer...make scribble cookies! We save our broken crayons in a basket until we have enough and then recycle them. The kids keep busy coming up with different color combos and I don't have to say for the third time "TURN OFF THE TV". Simple instructions:

1. Peel off paper, sort into muffin tin cups
2. Bake at 200 degrees for 30 minutes, check to ensure that all crayons are melted and remove from oven.
3. Let cool for one hour, pop scribble cookies out of the pan and COLOR!

ENJOY!

2:45 is weird time, be forewarned...

"What is it exactly that you are doing?"

"Being weird."

"Ok, I agree, why are you being weird?"

"Because it's weird time."

"When does weird time start?"

"At 2:45 in the afternoon."

"And when does it end?"

"At 3:15 in the afternoon."

"Good to know."

Sometimes, it's just better to walk out of the room. Seven year olds have a definite sense of how their worlds work, whether we agree with them or not. I am going to be checking the clock every afternoon though, this may explain A LOT!