After too many years of listening to my thoughts, seriously, just like a movie, hearing my inner voice forming opinions and making all sorts of comments about the people around me, the places I see, the fragrances and sights that my senses capture, the sad look in the eyes of a total stranger – I could not take it any more, just like an itch I couldn’t scratch.
My head has been spinning wildly for years, with the urgency to put these thoughts on paper, in a word file, on my phone’s notepad (which I yet have to learn to use). After some encouragement from life long friends and relatives I decided to start my own blog today. Knowing that I truly love writing, I have high hopes for it to be my outlet for so many loud thoughts that need an escape. Even though my goal is not particularly to have many readers, it would be nice to know that I am leaving something behind, a footprint on this webpage, a testimony of my experiences that could make others laugh, smile, think and maybe, sometimes cry.
I promised myself to put my most honest thoughts and beliefs on these pages- even if it means making a few enemies along the way- but hopefully not many. Names will be (mostly) avoided, as I am aware that people’s lives are private.
I will start my blog writing about parenthood. Not wanting to feel guilty about venting like a hysterical mom, I will say this with no hesitation: I absolutely adore my 2 children. They love me like no one in this planet does and make me feel the most beautiful person (inside and out) on the face of the earth.
Moving on to the real day to day struggles: why didn’t anyone (specially my mom) warn me about the tremendously huge job it is to be a parent? The overwhelming exhaustion , endless worry, the daily test in patience and tolerance, the sudden change in role from being a woman, to being a nurse, psychiatrist, crafts teacher, mathematician, dictionary, lullaby singer, cook, cleaning lady, chauffeur to name a few? I want to believe that no one warns us because all those that became moms before us -in their own experience- forgot about the tough first years of motherhood, and more importantly, because the many good things that came out of their own children’s hearts outweighed all the headaches, backaches, the tears and the broken hearts. (I don’t know about you but my son -only 9 now- has broken my heart and made me cry more than once). Maybe no warning came because to watch their children grow up, be strong, be independent and form beautiful families themselves, has made them proud. Tired and wrinkly , but proud. And probably, in the eyes of their grown children, they still are the most beautiful woman in the world.
The truth is, as a working mom, with no one really to call a housekeeper (but myself and the invaluable help of my dear husband), I finish my days more tired and grumpy -on the verge of bitterness- more often that I want to admit. The kids have been “parked” on a stage of constant fighting, arguing and picking at each other, that seems to have no end. I have read advice on the web, I talked to a therapist, I have counted to a million, nothing really works, so every day I try to sit it out, and wait, and wait , and wait. (I am actually still waiting).
Sometimes I go to the store, and as I am standing in line at the checkout, I see an older mom with teenagers, boy and girl, like us, and see them doing exactly the same. What the heck??? Wasn’t this suppose to be a stage? It looks to me like an endless race called WHO CAN DRIVE MOM CRAZY FASTER!
A friend told me once some siblings just don’t like each other, period. They are incompatible in different aspects of their personalities, they rub each other the wrong way. So it might not be a stage. In a way, this could be true. We don’t exactly choose our family (other than our spouse- thank goodness for that). So… to not like your brother, sister, cousin, etc should be absolutely acceptable, right? So why is it so painful to see siblings -specially your own kids- not get along, not admire and respect each other, love each other? Is wanting this harmony a learned pattern? An expected accomplishment? Could be. My siblings and I have always been very close. My parents instilled love and respect among us (parents and siblings both) almost as a survival skill. I am determined not to loose hope, but boy, am I tired.
I am trying hard to be an optimistic about this whole motherhood thing when I am in a crisis with them. So I hang on to dear and memorable moments I have shared with them, like when my son, at age 4, asked if he could marry me.
Both my son and daughter, on separate occasions, have asked me “Mom, why is it that when kids feel sad or sick, all they want is their mom?”
So many ways to answer that one. This question brings back endless memories of the delicious warm smell of my own mother, specially in the mornings when I used to snuggle with her in bed, stealing from my fathers side. There is absolutely nothing in this world than can compare to the warm body and scent of a mother. For those of us that are still fortunate enough to have them in our lives….HUG AND KISS YOUR MOMS! They all need our love, even more so when we grow up and leave the home. For those of you who don’t, I strongly believe that the loving memories of your mothers about simple moments you shared with them, can do wonders when you dedicate quality time to reminisce and relive them. I do if often when I miss my grandma and I find myself smiling big.
Here I end my first entry. I hope there are many to come, and more often than I was feeding my starving dying diary (every 6 months or so).