Laugh Today~so called drama.

Fire ant in the pants.
Yup. No lie. Today my husband was working in the yard, while I casually watched him from the porch with a cup or coffee. Imagine my surprise when he began jumping and hitting himself, finally ripping off his jeans, trying to pull them over his work boots while jumping around.

Ants in the pants.

Understand, this is something that would happen to me, not him. Not the 'king of the yard'!! Oh how I delight in writing this passage because he never humiliates himself (he has ME to do that for him) and for me to be just a spectator in this and not have a main role just pleases me to no end.
Yeah, it's sadistic. But it's funny.

I often laugh at inappropriate times. In fact, I almost always laugh at inappropriate times..not just sometimes. It's some kind of defense mechanism, I have read enough psychology text to know this. It doesn't sit well, usually, with the social medium.
I laugh at funerals. I laugh at baptisms. I almost, always, without fail..laugh during Mass. I don't know WHY this is but I just can't seem to stand the overabundance of solemnity..my mind breaks and I just roar with laughter. I will laugh until tears roll down my face, I usually excuse myself. Sometimes I laugh until I literally can't breathe or have to use the ladies room. There have been times where I actually pretend to be crying in order to hide the laughing.
I find humor in the very basic and boring. I find humor in the drama.

I remember sitting in the formal living room after my father's viewing, and laughing until my sides were sore. Who LAUGHS at the end of the worst day ever? Me. And a few close friends. Because only the real ones get why the release of laughter is the equivelent of the release of tears.
It's all an emotional retribution.
And I would rather laugh than cry.

I am an emotional person. My kids will vouch for seeing every emotion played out to award winning perfection, from their own mother. They have seen me cry..they themselves have driven me to tears at times, and I let them see it. I want them to see it, it's healthy for them to know that I am not above showing the basic feelings that they have. I have laughed with them, and at them. I laugh at myself mostly. I have yelled, swore and slammed doors. I have apologized and meant it. I have been wrong, right, and confused. They have seen me love their father and watched us dance in the kitchen. They have seen my frustration with my mother, they have seen me cry on Father's Day. They have seen me apologize to my mother, and watched me laugh at old home movies.
They have seen me come out of my seat in defense of something I believe in. They have seen me tear into someone who would dare say anything unkind about their father. They have seen me sit beside a hospital bed with my head in my hands praying. My kids have seen me at my strongest and at my most vulnerable.
And all the in between.

Maybe I am wrong in showing them this. Maybe my honesty with them has left them scarred or somehow hesitant themselves to show emotion. (it should be noted that their father barely has a pulse and never shows emotion)

I want them to know that I already forgive them for their flaws. I love them regardless of flaws. I have huge, gaping flaws and they have seen almost all of them! I want them to come to me and know that while I may be upset in their actions, I understand the need to have to make their own mistakes and recover from them.
I cannot put them in the 'bubble wrap'..I want to, trust me.

But life is full of emotion. It is full of questions, mistakes and really, really painful hurts.
And it's full of faith, forgiveness and laughter.
I can't map it for them. I can't make their choices, I can't choose for them.
I can laugh at their triumphs. I can cry for their wounds.

And I will teach them, above all, that laughing at inappropriate moments may be the thing that saves them.

Shades of Grey

The truth is humanity is not black and white. I have struggled with this for several months, perhaps years in the making.


The very core of ourselves isn't a block or square or even oval shape. It's complicated and twisty and dark and shaded.


It's grey.



I have good intentions. I have the best intentions for my children, for my husband. I try to set realistic goals for me as a mother and wife. I try to laugh every day with them.



But I have forgotten that I am a daughter.


The first and foremost feeling in my heart is that I love my children. And yet, I let myself get so caught up in that, that I forget that my mother loved me the same way, every day, forever.




My life began with her and she sustained me in the high and low tides of our lives with my father. She has never painted a poor picture of him to me. Various people can tell me of what outsiders 'saw' or presumed to 'see' in our family~but she never, to this day, says an unkind word about him. She still loves him. She dreams about him. She misses him.


What can I learn from her? Everything.


Here is a woman who has clung to life for the past 5 years, and in her dementia, I have become hard and cynical. I get easily frustrated and impatient. I blame HER for changing and becoming weaker and making ME be the strong one.


Well, I guess it's time to grow up.



I am ashamed of how I treat her. I am disgusted at my impatience. I HAVE GOT to pull back and step away from the situation and look at it objectively, no matter how hard that is.

I have spent the past week awake in my bed, wondering how to make amends with her and myself. How to show her that I was wrong.


I admit it honestly to her. I don't even know if she will understand me. I am fearful that the meaning of my words will be lost on her.


I am wrong.


Because as a mother myself, I should know that of all things, the connection we share is constant and we will always forgive one another.


I look at my children and know that they are a gift. They are not mine forever, and the time we share together has to be made as special as possible. I have said all along that I hope my children 'soar', and in today's world, that implies that I want more for them than I have.


But I have everything. I want as much happiness in their hearts as I have.



I want them to fall in love forever and laugh and share their lives with me and their father.


I want them to understand their grandmother as someone who yes, forgets things. And yes, wakes up at night, a lot. And she gets confused. And she is weak, and she can't hear. It's hard for her to 'be' a grandmother. It is my privilege to teach them that 'being' a grandmother is about 'loving', and she has given them that in spades. And she wasn't always confused, or weak. I have to draw them the pictures of our story before now. It wasn't a perfect story. But it was ours. Before today's ending. Their grandmother is my tie to this world. One rope was already cut, and I will hang on to her until it's her choice to let go.


My choice to share this isn't to make anyone feel sorry for us, or me specifically. I have had ENOUGH of self-pity. I want people to know that I was wrong. I was wrong to feel this way.


It's better to know it and own it and admit it, then try to pretend to be something else.


I share this as part of my apology to her.


She is the tether to my life.



As an child, she said she would kiss me and say 'No man will ever kiss you more than I will.'


I say the same exact thing to my daughter. Every night.