I'll fall in the fall.......you'll see, September can be heavenly!! If you fall, say you'll fall for me....when autumn leaves are falling from the trees!!!!

Oh, my goodness!!!  It's THAT time of year again!  Autumn!  Fall!!  The changing of the seasons always tends to make me more reflective......but the changing of the guard from summer to fall makes me melancholy.  But not in a bad way...........in a mellow, taking stock of your life and measuring your blessings kind of way.   Maybe it's because Thanksgiving is in the fall.....maybe it's just because the colors are so beautiful and the air is so crisp and refreshing after the draining summer heat......maybe it's the shortening of the hours of daylight and the promise of longer, cooler nights custom made for snuggling. I don't really know why.....but this is my all-time favorite time of the year.

I love spring....the symbolic renewing of life.......and summer with it's long, lazy days is fine.  Winter is okay with crisp, frozen mornings and snowflakes.....but something about autumn makes my heart beat a little happier.

I anxiously await the turning of the leaves...celebrating the jewel tones of the falling leaves - painted by God's own hand.  I love the smokey smell in the air, the spicy scent of pumpkin-flavored EVERYTHING.  Nothing beats a steaming mug of coffee on a chilly, foggy fall morning!  I love being able to wear my sweaters and jackets again and of course, I love pulling out the boots (NO more shaving those legs every few days!!) I love the way the leaves crunch under my feet when we go for a walk and I love the way the falling leaves twirl and spin on the wind as they waft from tree limb to ground.  I love acorns and pine cones!  I love jumping into piles of leaves!  I love how my cheeks get pink on our evenings walks from the chilly air!

I love hayrides, bonfires, homecoming games, and Halloween candy! I love pumpkins, hay bales, scarecrows, rainbows of mums and pansies.  I love back-to-school sales, trick-or-treating and costume parties!  I love apple cider, picking apples, and apple pies. Harvest moons, corn-mazes, and the way sunlight turns a bright golden color in the late fall afternoons.  I love how the humidity falls and you can clearly see the stars twinkling in the velvet black skies at night.  I love building a fire in the fire place and cuddling up close while we stare into the flames and share our hearts.

I love going for hikes in the flame-colored woods and I love roasting marshmallows on sticks by a toasty fire. I love big bushel baskets of harvested vegetables and I love squash, gourds, Indian Corn and pumpkins!! I love candy corn and those candy-corn orange and green pumpkins!!!  And I love cornucopias and silly Tom Turkeys and Pilgrims!!  I love it when the whole world pauses and contemplates how thankful they are for their blessings!

I love foggy mornings, spooky midnights and the giant yellow harvest moon.  I love hearing hoot-owls and I love the giant flocks of birds flying south for the winter!  I put extra birdseed out so that my back yard can become a stop-over for the migrating birds!

I pretty much love everything about the fall.   Now, pass me that Pumpkin Spice Latte!

What I see, looking back at me!?!

I wasted so many, many years of my life avoiding cameras and being so ashamed of how I looked that I would often say home, rather than present myself for public scrutiny.  I felt so huge, so overweight, and so unattractive, that I waaaaaay overestimated the importance of how I look to other people.  I was so miserable in my own shell that I couldn't imagine anyone else having a favorable reaction to the way I looked.  Looking through photo albums of my family vacations and milestones like birthdays and holiday celebrations....there is one thing missing:  ME.   I was always the one behind the camera....for fear that if I allowed someone else to man the camera, my gargantuan features might accidentally be captured on film for the world to see and judge.  If I didn't appear on film, then I remained invisible, right?  Oh, such silly vanity!!!

I thought I was over that.  It took drastic measures........having bariatric surgery and losing almost 100 pounds to face down the demons that had tormented me since.....oh, around the age of six.....when my well-meaning mother first put Slender and Figurine bars in my school lunch box because she told me that I was getting too fat.

In the last two years, I have been featured in more photographs than in the past 20 years combined.  I thought I was past the shame, the misguided fears......the vanity....of not being photographed.  And then, the other day, I  was getting ready to go out with some friends and my husband for a nice dinner and I made an extra effort to dress nicely....I styled my hair and I put on make-up!  The full-Monty make-up....eyeliner, eye-shadow, blush, foundation, concealer, and even lipstick. I felt pretty!  I felt glamorous!  Womanly.  I looked in the mirror and I thought.....'NOT BAD!"   So I clicked a selfie pic, thinking it would make a great profile picture for my FaceBook page....and then I looked at the evidence.   And I was shocked.  And not in a GOOD way.

The image in my mirror was a LIAR!!!  I did NOT look pretty or glamorous.  I looked OLD.  I looked TIRED.  Dark circles under my eyes.....lines around my eyes and mouth.  My eyes were dull and not sparkling.....they were bloodshot.  I went from 'Hello!' to 'Oh, NO!' in less than 60 seconds flat.  And then I felt defeated and I no longer looked forward to a fun evening out.  I wanted to stay home, change into my pajamas, wash my face, apply an entire bottle of Oil of Olay, eat a gallon of ice cream on the couch and watch re-runs of 1980's sitcoms.  In other words....I wanted to have a giant, sad pity-party. Alone.

Thankfully, I had already RSVP'd to the event and other folks were going to be there waiting on us to arrive....so I had to buck it up and just accept that I am getting to be "of a certain age" and just go.   I am so glad I did.  I ended up having the best time I've had in ages and once I forgot to dwell on how pitiful I thought I looked, I relaxed and even went back to feeling slightly glamorous and pretty for a while.  I was dressed nicely.....I was at a very nice restaurant....I had a good looking and attentive and loving escort (who, for some wacked-out reason, thinks I hung the moon and loves me BECAUSE (and not  in spite of) the fact that I am me!).    During the course of the evening, the camera phones came out and I allowed a picture of us to be taken.....and you know what?   It was a GOOD picture!!!  I made it my new profile picture!  In the picture, I was feeling happy and loved and I was having a great time.....and you know what?  It shows in the picture!!! Do I still look older?  Well, yeah.....but it doesn't matter.

Maybe I'm finally moving past the vanity and pride and can accept that I am more than what I see in a picture or in the mirror.  I am so blessed!!! I am loved! I have precious friends! I have a healthy and loving family!  My life is amazing beyond my wildest dreams!!! This is what I need to see when I look at my reflection.  But I still bought some "Overnight Miracle Recovery Cream" and "Under-eye Rejuvenating Cream" this weekend......you know.....just in case.   ;)

Character in a Can

Moxie.  I need a big cafeteria sized can of Moxie.

mox·ie:

/ˈmɒksi/ Sh[mok-see]   noun Slang.  1. vigor; verve; pep.  2. courage and aggressiveness; nerve.   3. skill; know-how.

I've spent my entire life wanting to be more courageous, aggressive and wanting to be able to stand up for myself, my beliefs and values.

Resist my Emotions

My emotions.  What a minefield!!  What are my most consistent emotions?  Now that's a quandary.

I saw a pin on Pinterest the other day that cracked me up because it was so right on the mark about how I feel about myself most days.  It said, "I have really low self-esteem, but I still think I'm better than other people."    Ouch.    I really do struggle with low self-esteem.  There are days when every word that comes out of my mouth sounds so insipid and dumb that I just beg myself to stop talking.   There are days when I feel clumsy and geeky and awkward and out of place.  There are days when I feel ugly and unattractive and incompetent.   But even on those worst of days........I still feel like I have to do everything myself because I can't trust anybody else will do it correctly.   What a contradiction!  Makes no sense!

I've had a life-long battle with depression.  I took medicine for it for years.  I've been med-free for about 4 years now and I'm managing.   I actually think I'm doing a little bit better.  I still have the occasional crying jag - and occasional down days, but then again - who doesn't??  

Is loneliness an emotion?  Because I do find that I am quite lonely these days.  I miss having my kids at home. My husband travels a good bit and when he's gone and I'm home all alone, those are the hardest times for me.  I tend to "go to the dark side" a lot faster and stay there a lot longer when left to my own devices.  Even when my husband is at home, when he is involved in his own activities, like watching his scary movies or something else that I don't enjoy - I've had to come up with activities to keep me busy so that I don't get down in the dumps.  I've recently taught myself to knit on a round loom and I've been trying my hand at some crafts and painting.   I've been reading a lot and taking a ton of pictures.  I spend time cooking and baking.   If I keep my mind busy, it doesn't get as dark.

I also have times of just contentment.  Is contentment an emotion?  I think so.....like a quiet joy. All is well in my immediate world.  I count my blessings and realize that I have so much...my husband, my home, my heath, my career, my friends.....blessings beyond my wildest imaginations.  I feel loved and happy.  Genuinely happy.  Peaceful.  Content.

I have times of overwhelming joy too.  Like when we went hiking and I was able to hike for 2 1/2 hours over a steep and rocky trail.  It was hard, but when we finished, I felt so happy!  When we climbed Lombard Street in San Francisco, I felt the same way when I finally struggled and got to the top....victorious! Little personal victories.  Sometimes, I feel the same way just looking at the wonders of God's creation- a foggy morning, mist over a field, birds flying over a pasture with fresh bales of hay, horses running with their manes flowing in the wind, the majesty of mountains, the gentle rolling green hills, the strength of an old, gnarled tree, sunrise, the ocean, seeing laundry fluttering in the breeze on a clothesline.....all of these things touch me deeply and make me feel joyous.

I feel afraid sometimes.  Not very often - but sometimes.  I am mostly afraid that someone I love will suffer. Sometimes, I'm afraid bad things will happen.  Mostly, I'm afraid of the unknown.  I feel afraid because there is evil in the world and I'm helpless to stop it.

Sometimes I feel competent - like I can accomplish whatever I set out to do.....and other times, I feel so completely the opposite....like everything I touch turns to ash.

I usually feel loving - and caring - and nice.  But sometimes I don't.   Sometimes, the thoughts I have are not very loving, caring or nice at all and I just feel mean and nasty.  I don't like those days at all.  

Sometimes, I just feel completely out of sorts - irritable, mean, nasty and all I want to do is be alone and feel miserable.  Wallow in the misery.....sigh heavily and lament woefully.   I want to be alone- maybe take a bubble bath and just go to bed early.  

Sometimes, I feel outgoing and fun!  I want to be with friends, go places, do things and laugh.  I want to dance and shake my groove thang.  (Okay, truthfully, I can't even REMEMBER the last time I shook anything.....especially not in public!!).   But I feel like I WANT to from time to time.

I suppose my emotions are like a can of mixed nuts.........or kindda like Forrest Gump's Momma always said -they are "like a box of chocolates - ya never know what ya' gonna get." I guess it just depends on mood, circumstance, experiences and timing.  Do I resist my emotions?   Not so well.  I try to put on my "poker face" from time to time......but I'm not sure how effective it is.  I don't think we really SHOULD resist our emotions - that probably leads to deeper rooted problems.  I think I even read somewhere that depression is just misdirected anger.  Which is probably why I struggle with it so much. I have never done "angry" very well.  'Depression' I have down to a fine science....but 'angry' still mostly eludes me.

How we feel is how we feel, I suppose.  It's neither good nor bad....it just IS.   It's what we DO about how we feel that makes the difference.  To quote the Borg, "Resistance is futile."

All I ever really wanted to be was a Mommy.

All I ever really wanted to be was a Mommy. 

Looking back, some of the earliest memories I have are of playing with my baby dolls.  I'd dress them up, wrap them up in blankets, tote them around on my hip, burp them, pretend to give them bottles, hug them, kiss them, tell them stories and love their plastic little hearts to pieces. 

I always wanted to have two children.  In my dreams and fantasies and every time I played 'house'...I was always the Mommy and I always had two children.  And I always wanted a boy and a girl.  Two blonde-haired, blue-eyed real-life babies that I could love for real. 

As I grew up, I began to baby-sit other people's children.....and I was pretty good at it! I would volunteer to work in the nursery at church, just so I could rock the babies.  They just smelled so good!! 

And then....perhaps a bit before I had planned, I found myself expecting my first baby.  I wasn't much more than a baby myself....18 years old and scared silly.  Terrified really.  Once it was a reality, I knew I wasn't ready.  I wasn't prepared.  I wasn't old enough, smart enough, or mature enough to be responsible for another human being. But from the very first time I felt her fluttering movements inside my tummy......my heart was lost forever.  I dreamed of holding her...my arms ached to hold her.......9 months seemed an eternity to wait to meet her face to face.  All the shame of getting pregnant before I was married, all the fears, all the pain......it was all completely worth it the second I saw her beautiful round face.  And she was beautiful.  Breath-takingly beautiful.  And mine.  My baby girl.  Holding her to my chest and seeing her little heart-shaped lips and feeling her squirm and stretch in her sleep.......I fell in love with her more and more.  She would curl her little fist around my finger and hold on tight......but she had an even tighter grip on my heart.

It wasn't all sunshine, glitter and rainbows.....she was colicky and cried a lot.  I felt so inadequate to address her needs.  I could feed her and change her and hold her and love her, but even then, my baby girl had a mind of her own.  There were long, sleepless nights; nights spent cleaning vomit out of my hair and nights washing every sheet and towel we owned.  Diaper rashes, a tight budget and we had to work long hours just to make ends meet.  But it wasn't all bad....there were plenty of magical days filled with laughter, adventures and the endless delights of the insatiable learning of a toddler. 

And she was so beautiful!  My beautiful, beautiful baby girl.  She loved dresses and she loved lace and pocketbooks and baby-dolls.  She loved books and toys and learning.  She loved her Mommy and Daddy and we were her entire world and she filled ours.  She quickly developed her very own personality and sense of humor.  She was the most delightful child!  She was just as precocious as she was precious and strangers would often comment on how well-behaved she was. 

We were so good at raising this beautiful daughter that we figured we needed to reproduce a second time.  This time, it was planned down to the due-date.  We did everything we could to make sure we would have a happy and healthy second child.  From not touching caffeine to getting plenty of exercise and rest and everything in between.  I read every pregnancy book. every magazine article and every chapter in my OB Nursing book at least twice.  I knew about every possible disease process and neonatal distress known to man.  And I worried a lot.  I knew a little more this time.....this time, we knew that our first child was surviving and thriving because of God's grace and in spite of our ineptitude. 

We wanted to make sure that our daughter understood that we loved her so much that we wanted another child!  We wanted to explain things clinically and matter of factually to her.....no stories of storks or cabbage patches for us.  This strategy resulted in our precious 4 year old daughter giving a rather specific and clinical lecture to her preschool Sunday School class on the nature of natural childbirth.  In retrospect, we may have divulged too much clinical information, but we wanted her to be learned and understand. 

We took her with us to the ultrasound appointment where we were going to learn the sex of the baby.  She was DETERMINED that she was going to have a sister and she had already named her Emily Sarah.  When the ultrasound tech proudly announced that our baby had a penis and that our daughter was indeed going to have a brother......our sweet and precious baby girl had a complete melt-down and screamed, "NO! NO! NO!  It's a GIRL!!! Her name is EMILY SARAH!!!!  You are WRONG!"  And no amount of consoling or reasoning would make her change her mind.  We bought blue paint and painted the nursery blue.  We bought blue blankets and toy trucks and outfitted the nursery for a BOY and she kept saying that it was Emily Sarah's room.  Even after he was born, she declared that it was NOT a boy, it was a girl and her name was Emily.  Eventually, she came to accept that she had a "little brudder" but for the longest time, she wasn't too pleased.  She declared that all he did was eat, sleep, poop and cry and she would pray at night when we put her to bed, "Jesus, I hate him.  Take him back."  Thankfully, that phase didn't last for very long. 

Our son was SUCH a good baby!   He never cried unless he was hungry or needed changing and he slept through the night almost from the very beginning!  "Boy, we were GREAT at this baby-producing thing, weren't we?" we tricked ourselves into smugly thinking.   THEN.......we taught him to walk and talk.

Our son had a mind of his own too.  And it was a brilliant, but stubborn and defiant mind, determined to have his way or else.  Almost from the moment he took his first steps and spoke his first words, he was at direct odds with what we wanted him to do and say.   He seemed to enjoy getting into trouble and from the moment he started Pre-K at daycare, he was determined to make waves.   He wanted attention.  DEMANDED attention.  Positive or negative - it didn't really matter.   We lavished attention on him...spent hours reading to him, building leggo models with him, taking him places, showing him things, riding bikes, playing soccer, karate lessons.......you name it.   It was never enough.   He managed to become the terror of his day care and when he was four years old the first time he got kicked out of Vacation Bible School.........and then once he entered regular school, the real trouble began.

Kindergarten was a two year ordeal for him, as his teacher did not believe him "emotionally ready" to advance to first grade.   Hours spent crying, "ABC's is STUPID!!!" and refusing to participate in classroom activities led to complete emotional melt-downs in the class room, resulting in him having to be picked up at school at numerous occasions.  We became very well acquainted with the school principal's office. When we moved to North Carolina, we realized that he had very limited eyesight in his left eye and once he got glasses, his classroom performance improved vastly.   Bless his heart - he couldn't see those "stupid ABC's" on the board for so long.  Talk about feeling guilty!!  What kind of parents didn't realize that their child couldn't see, for heaven's sakes!!  After getting his glasses, he went from not being able to read a word to reading on a 10th grade level (while in the first grade) in a matter of months.  He was given batteries of testing and it was determined that he was "intellectually gifted."   he was placed in additional classes and and IEP was developed for him and he did better for a while.  He liked the challenges of the gifted class, but he honestly thought that the "rules" of the classroom didn't apply to him.  He was smart.  Why should have have to do inane homework assignments to prove to the teacher that he knew the things that he so obviously already knew.  It was all a waste of time and energy to him.  As you can imagine, that didn't settle too well with his teachers.

Alyssa was gifted as well - we had two very bright and wondrously intelligent children!  There were times that were an absolute JOY.....every evening, sitting at the dinner table, OH the conversations we had!!  The laughter, the witty banter, the quick back-and-forth barbs, those are sweet and precious memories.   When we would go on long car trips for vacation - those are some of my favorite memories!!  The kids would be in the back seat and we would be in the front seat and we'd play word games........thinking up every word we could that rhymed......or thinking up all the different words there were for "boobies" or "bottom" or "poop" or "pee-pee"........laughing the miles away.  Being astonished by the wisdom and intellect (and pure silliness) coming from that back seat!! I wish I could have bottled those days up and saved them for now!!  Even a drop or two of those precious memories would work wonders for me on a dark and lonely afternoon.

High school proved to be difficult for both our kids on many levels.  Being gifted meant being "different" and while they were both "different".........they expressed it in very different ways.  Alyssa insulated herself by reading and immersing herself in  the culture of Japan.  She had a few very good friends....but mostly she spent her nights at home with her family, reading or going online to talk with other like-minded friends. She had a strong sense of who she was and who she wanted to be and I don't think it bothered her very much that she wasn't like some of the popular girls at her school. She seemed comfortable and satisfied to march to the beat of her own drum.

Jaron was another matter.  I honestly believe that he's spent years "searching for himself".....he tried on different personas over the years:  goth, emo, screamo, druggie, prep, and GQ Gent.  He is so very musically talented......can play at least 12 different instruments and he excelled in band....but didn't like to follow the rules and got kicked out.  He never quite seemed comfortable in his own skin.

Needless to say, both kids followed different paths than I would have chosen for them.  As a parent, the ONLY thing you want is for your children to have a better life than you had.  We wanted our kids to grow up in a stable home with two dedicated and loving parents.  They did.   We wanted them to have vacations and go places and see the outside world.....to broaden their horizons and increase their awareness of life outside of themselves.   We wanted them to learn to be kind and loving.  We wanted them to know right from wrong and to chose right every time.  We wanted them to become independent and strong individuals.  We wanted them to be happy.

Now, they are both adults.  They have moved out and moved on with their lives.

Alyssa was the first to fly from the nest.  She graduated from college and moved to Japan to live out her life-long dream of teaching English there.  She seems to be happy and she is certainly independent.   It kills me because she is so far away and we rarely even communicate any more.  I spent the last 25 years of my life caring for her, meeting all of her needs and making sure she was safe and sound.   Now, she is gone and doesn't need me at all.  It was like cutting off a limb when she left.  I cried for months on end.   If I am truthful, it's been over 3 years now and I'm still crying about it.  I miss her terribly.   I feel cut off and cast off and unneeded and unwanted.  We flew over to see her 2 years ago and stayed in Japan for 12 days.  She almost seemed to resent us being there.   She flew home this past Christmas for 9 days and seemed to be counting the days until she could leave again.  She was distant and cold towards me....and while I understand that our relationship would change when my kids became an adult - I never realized that they wouldn't want to be around me.  And it broke my heart into a thousand sharp shards that I'm still trying to piece back together.  So much has changed.  I don't even know her anymore.  I feel like I have completely lost my baby girl and I barely recognize the person who replaced her.

Jaron moved out the day he turned 18.  We begged him not to do it....didn't feel he was ready, but he was 18 and we couldn't stop him.   He floundered for a few years...and even ended up in jail for several months.  Talk about breaking your heart........when you have to go and visit your child and they are behind dirty Plexi-glass window and wearing an ugly orange jumpsuit, that's about as low as it gets.  I've cried more tears over this child than I can even imagine.  Buckets full.  No.....Oceans full of tears.   He's doing some better now; he has had a steady girlfriend for a year now and he has a management job at a restaurant. He still isn't making the best decisions for himself......but he's getting by.  It still breaks my heart to watch him struggle and deal with the consequences of his decisions.

So....both of my children are adults now.  I look back and wonder where I went wrong.....where I messed up with them.  Was I the "perfect" mother?  No, of course not.  Did I love them as completely and perfectly as I could?  Absolutely.  I gave them everything I had to give and then some.  I would still.   I would give my very life for either one of them in a single heartbeat with out another thought.   I love them more than life itself.  I still only want the best for them.....and I still want them to thrive, be happy, do the right things and find love.  I hope they both realize how very much they are loved.....by me and their dad.  

Sometimes, I wonder how they see us.  I wish I could see through their eyes and understand how they feel about us.   I wonder if, sometime down the road they will realize that we're getting older and won't always be around.  I wonder how our relationships will change with them over the years....because they surely will change.   I hold out hope that we will become close once again....sharing laughs and hugs and jokes again.

Because all I ever wanted to be was a Mommy.   I have been blessed to be a Mommy twice over and it has been the most excruciating, painful, amazingly awful, wonderful, most important thing I have ever done.  I have struggled, I have been overjoyed, and overwhelmed; I have know the heights and the depths of motherhood.  I love my children with every ounce of my being.......I hope they can understand at least that.  If they only understand how much I love them.......how very much I love them....that's enough.