An Elway Explanation

Today was a relatively decent day (said the mommy in her head, trying to drown out the 4 year old screaming that he "won't poo" from the washroom, and the 1 year old chanting, "Mama" and grappling at her knees -which ever so recently she found so adorable). Except for one part.

Earlier on, after a particularly enjoyable pretend picnic, I was folding some laundry outside while my son was reading and my daughter was wandering about teething on leftover pretend utensils, when suddenly the moment of serenity ended.

White gunk was on my baby girls bottom lip, and a sour expression combined with confusion was in her eyes.

After rushing over and wiping frantically, I knew before Elway helped me to uncover the truth that my princess just tasted bird poo.

Joy.

I of course shoved my finger in her mouth and tried to pull everything I could off of her tongue while running inside and finding a way to angle her head under the kitchen faucet to flush as much shit out of her grin as humanly possible. All the while, Elway explained away.

"Mommy it was not my fault!! A bird pooped on my book and Isla was standing there with the spoon. She gave it to me. She was sharing!!! It was great...cause I needed to clean the poop off my page. It was all white over the words and I couldn't understand what Geronimo was saying so I had to wipe it off. I just used the spoon, but I didn't tell her to eat it. She did that on her OWN!!!"

Overall, a relatively decent day. I'll just be standing post for signs of illness. Parasites. UGH.

In Elways Honest Opinion- Art

Every now and then, a mother who LOVES her kids but is typically exhausted, often quite frustrated, and feels like she beats her head against the wall saying the same things over and over and over with no ending in sight...gets a break. A moment when it all seems worth it, and even more. A moment when we remember just how precious any given moment of our lives can be. Today, this was mine. 

So...
Elway's playing with blocks, making his "art", and Isla tried to help, but was "wrecking the art!!". I said, "She doesn't mean to.. she doesn't even know what art is".

About minute of silence from the next room where they are playing passes, and then Elway starts to explain.

"Isla let me explain. Art is like big picture, or new idea or a sad or happy feeling that you want to tell, that sometimes other people see, and sometimes they think its just blocks.----- And, ...actually... Mommy!! Isla is not wrecking my art!! She is making it better!!"

A Place On Earth

I was asked today...do I believe in heaven and hell? Well, yes and no.

I find it hard to explain how I feel about believing in anything, but I will try... 

To me; believing is equatable to hoping to know something, but having no way of knowing, and so, impatiently pretending that you now know that something to be true. Although I think that we all create our own destiny with self fulfilled prophesy, I don't tell my self  'I believe I can do this" if I know that I cannot!! I tell myself " I am capable and willing and therefore can do this" when it is true. 


What can I say, I do not like disappointment. 

I prefer to think that living my life while I live it, for the reward of being the best person I can be right, here, and now, treating every day, this very day included, as though it could be my last, and yet always looking forward to tomorrow, able to look at myself in the mirror each morning and say 'I love who you are and who you try to be' ... well, in my humble opinion, doing this, and having my beautiful children, husband and family, having love, real love, everyday, IS heaven. It is all I would ever wish heaven could be. 

Perhaps, the reason why follows.

I also have lived in 'hell'. I spent more than 10 years, not able to look in the mirror, except to ensure that I was hidden well. I ached. So I anesthetized... only to ache more. I tried to hold the beauty I saw in others and make it my own, and suffered the loss as I felt it slip away. I loved others, abundantly, quite selflessly, and that was the problem. I gave endlessly unable to receive, because without ever loving myself, I couldn't feel it when it was given. Real love always felt like pity, or obligation, or if it felt good... it felt displaced. Love, and life, burned my eyes and ran my feet raw, and I never seemed to get anywhere no matter how hard I tried. So I anestheitized. It was pure hell. 

I think that now and then, we receive little messages, from those that have passed away. Like to think of them as a child plays with a lilac, and that child has the same fiery tousled hair that they wore and suddenly you're smiling and you don't even know why.... 

I think that memories run deeper than our mind, and so even if we can't recall a loved one, our flesh remembers their touch, their scent, and sound.... 

I think that what happens to our flesh after living matters not, for the loved ones we left behind keep our vessels whole in their memory...

I think that deceiving yourself that you must conduct yourself accordingly, in order to prevent an eternal damnation, is a way of depriving yourself of the innate nature to just be your wonderful self, and thus robs you of the heaven you could be living every day.

And Oh My God this earth is beautiful... the way nature works, both symbiotic and vicious, is mesmerizing and elusive, yet so simple. When nothing in the world makes any sense, a deer will always startle to the loud crack of a branch. Nature has always been my refuge. My search for heaven started in a lush valley..... and I think that is where I eventually found it.

When I was a little girl, my Daddy told me to look for the beauty in every day. I have always done this. What he failed to add, an important little detail, was that if I couldn't find any in the world around me, never to fear, because I would always have it in me....... but Dad always said "You learn things better if you teach yourself" 

Thanks for the point in the right direction Dad, I got lost for a while but there sure was a pretty sunrise this morning. 

So.... 

Do I believe in heaven and hell? Yes and No. 

Do I believe in God? I don't have to. Have you seen my children? 

Sick of Sick

Put down the Pepto, and pass the Kleenex. You never really appreciate things until they are gone.. do you? Like, for example, the use of your nose. Though not the most life threatening ailment, well temporarily at least, it just may be the most irritating ailment.

Here are the things I miss which are associated with this:
Knowing when food is cooked - before I see smoke.
Detecting dirty diapers - before my sleeve.
Tasting food - because despite scissors for vocal chords, I am trying very hard to nourish myself but everything tastes like chalk
Hearing...anything at all - because these things are connected, I'm left with a skipping scratched broken record repeating "What?" like an idiot.
Breathing- that's a big one. I must admit I am sometimes quite frightened for a second or so, that I will forget to open my mouth and just stop breathing all together. It's great.
Moisture in my mouth- for those of you out there still capable of swallowing at will, take a second and enjoy that luxury, will ya?
And, last but not least, Sleeping- it would be nice if during the brief interval between the needs of my 2 poor sicky-poo babes, I could breathe and therefore fall asleep. Yup, my friends... no nose= no sleep.

For something with such an obvious lack of function it sure is sore and red. Hell, at this point, I want the fever back- at least then I am blissfully less aware, a total menace perhaps, but who would know?