I read an article about ago that I cannot stop thinking about. At first it angered me. I wanted to run from it and deny it…do anything but believe it.
Sometimes the truth really does hurt. That’s an understatement really. Sometimes the truth confronts you at night when you try to sleep and it conquers every thought, every delusion, and every dream. Sometimes the truth causes your heart to swell and tears to pour.
That’s what happened to me. The article I read was about whether or not it’s fair to call a single mother heroic and what actually makes a mother heroic. I appreciate the blunt and this read was more than that. It was life altering for me.
How do we define a hero? As one article stated, "not all soldiers are heroes and so it would be with single parents." It is not an automatic title. It must be earned. To become a hero is to do things the hard way, to sacrifice, to do what is right, not what is easy.
Many single mothers get caught up in themselves, all the while their children continue growing, stealing with them time that we can never get back. It should be about them, not us. It is about giving them everything we’ve got and we live off what’s left. We should be the one’s living off crumbs and day old bread, not them!
A true hero does not worry about how hungry he/she is, how healthy he/she is, how lonely, how attractive or how happy. A hero acts solely on the behalf of others. The only way they serve their ego is through the feeling they get by watching others succeed, recover or just thrive and knowing that they were a part of it.
The key is not capturing the affection of other men/women; it is capturing the wonder, the amazement, the imagination and the hearts of our children. We are parents first and foremost. A parent is a heavy word which comes with great responsibility. Only the most selfless individuals can make the grade as a good parent.
"How can I be a part of my child’s emotional and physical health?" should be the question to ask, not "How many men/ women can I get into bed with?"
“What does my child need for lunch?” should be the question, not “Who is on face book?”
A good mother will feed her children first, clothe her children first and nurture their happiness first.
It is not heroic to lay out like a sun goddess reading books about romance while our children run amok throughout the neighborhood.
It is not heroic to focus on what we look like, rather than what our children look like. Are they clean? Is their hair combed? Teeth brushed?
It is not heroic to go to the drive thru every night because the house is a mess, and we didn’t clean it. Children need more than chicken nuggets and fries.
It is not heroic to plant them in front of the television all day because we are too lazy to read a book or play with…or just too selfish.
It is not heroic to pump them full of candy every time they cry or throw a fit for our own sanity.
It is not heroic to raise children without manners, without understanding, without work ethics, without self discipline.
We are raising people. They will grow up and what they are learning now is what they will take into adulthood with them. (Seems like a no brainer right?)
Every time we let them get away with lying, with being disrespectful while we parent chair side, rather than getting up and down to their level…
Every time we tell them to go play, that we are busy …
Every time.... they grow up, just a little. Every time they lose their innocence…just a little.
Our kids need mothers with gusto. Our children need fathers with fortitude. Our children need parents with priorities!
It’s not about whether or not we want to blow all our money on a vacation; it’s about the bills, the car and the kids. Did you ever think maybe they want a vacation? Maybe they want a Mom or Dad whom they can trust and know will protect them and always put them first?!
Our children need parents who consider their paths and futures first and ours last.
I believe if we do that our success will be incidental, automatic, a long for the ride.
When we, as parents are on the right path...the rest falls into place.
That is a hero!
Monday, July 26, 2010
The Truth Hurts
Monday, April 5, 2010
"Look what the Easter Bunny brought me!"...
"Look baby, the sun woke up, are you ready for Easter?"
"The sun is going to be mad at me." She buries her head into the pillow.
"No, the sun is nice, the sun isn't mad at you. Do you want to see what you got for Easter?
She pops up. "Yay! It's Eestoh."
Downstairs, she stares at her basket which has a pink stuffed bunny in it. She looks at the bunny and asks "Did you got all this stuffs for me?" It just sits there underneath the cello wrap and she looks worried.
"Mommy, he needs out."
Gary takes the Easter Bunny out. She looks at it again. "I said did you got all these stuff for me!?"
I look at Gary who is Jehovah Witness and not interested in holidays in the least bit and wonder what I should do. I've never told her that a holiday figure was real before. But her eyes are wide and worried. I look at Gary and he surprisingly puts his hand on the Bunny's neck and wriggles the head. "Yes, I did. I got all this for you. Just for Azalia."
Her smile is huge, so precious. She hugs the Bunny. And looks at it again. "You are the Eastoh Bunny?" Gary looks at me. I know he doesn't want to say the word. I chime in, "Yep, that's the Easter Bunny!"
"Oh!", she giggles joyfully.
The bunny is quiet again and she is waiting for it to move or say something.
Gary makes it jump and shout "Happy, Happy, Happy". He doesn't want to say the word again. Azalia and say "Happy Easter!"
She grabs a package of candy handing it to the bunny, "Can you open dis Eastoh Bunny?"
"Sure." Gary says in his jolly Easter Bunny voice. He works the bunny's hands so it looks like they take the candy and moves the bunny and candy behind his back. "Just a second." He says again in the Bunny voice.
"Here you go Azalia." Bringing the candy back around.
"Thanks!" She giggles. "Thanks Eastoh Bunny."
Gary couldn't resist. Just to see her smile. He caved. "Happy...Happy---Easter! Azalia."
The Reasons...
How do I explain how I got here, to this decision with out writing a book? Okay, no books I promise.
I am a strong-willed,stubborn woman and swore that my boys would always live with me, because I do just fine and because I am prideful and because I believe I can do it all, all by myself.
Doing the best we can, sometimes isn't enough. My boys are at an age now, where they really need their Dad, especially my oldest boy. He's 12.
We moved in December to a place much better than the little apartment we were in,granted it's still a condo and so we are still sandwiched in a horizontal stack of town homes. We are so close to our neighbors, it's a good thing our houses are connected, otherwise we would be able open our windows, reach right through theirs and turn down their music. :)
Back to the subject. Boys. My boys are fighting all the time, especially since the move. The bullying at their new school is relentless. When I went to enroll them I about cried. It's like a school out of some movie where are the kids are troubled and defiant, only Morgan Freeman isn't there to save them. A "Lean on Me" for an elementary. Kids were playing in the parking lot at recess, bouncing balls off of cars, swearing and running on the roof from the playground duties. I said "That's it. You are NOT going here. No way."
My son (the diplomat), said we should "give it a chance".
I was, at first driving them every morning to the old district, then to the day care with ZeeZee, then to the college, then back to the daycare, back to the old school and back to home. After about a month it really wore me down. They weren't even going to Judo anymore, we just didn't have the time.
After the school change, my son became violent, angry and depressed. His grades took a sharp drop too. He brought home a math paper with a 40% score. That is the lowest he has ever had, always being at the top of the class in Math. I asked him to do the problems again. He fixed every one of them and knew exactly how. But he explained to me that in class, he can't concentrate because all he can think about is how every time the teacher steps out of the room, about 3 0r 4 boys start pushing him around, calling him gay, calling him swear words and throwing things at him. Recess was worse. Fights.
At home I would always ask him what was wrong and if he wanted to be removed from the school but he's a tough kid. It wasn't until one day when he burst that I realized we had to get him out of there. He wasn't talking much and seemed troubled. "Are you okay?" I asked. "No, Mom and I haven't been okay ever since you put me in that new school okay? I'm not okay. "
I took him out and put him on home study. The change was instant. His mood, his studies, the fighting. It improved over night.
Only problem was, I'm still in school, full-time. I get home and I am always so busy. My grades could be better too.
I don't understand prideful people who usually end up hurting themselves and those around them, all for pride's sake. The fear of giving up or giving in is too great. They would rather suffer than be wrong. I would rather swallow my pride. I'm quite good at it actually, a pro.
I care more about them and more about the truth than being right or in control. The fact is, they have another parent who loves them are is able to care for them just as I have alone for the past 7 and a half years. He lives in a small town (better schools), is married (stability) and financially sound (able to give more than I am), besides all that, he is their father. They need him and want him and I want what is best for them!
Sunday, April 4, 2010
My Prelude
This is my practice run, my rehearsal, my prelude to a new chapter in my life.
It's a clear day which is ironic considering the messy pace of my thoughts. The windy roads and tall pines are beautiful through the Uintahs. The rounded snow has fallen on the branches like perfect mounds of whipped cream.
The boys are fighting in the back seat and my heart and head are pounding out of sync. Spring Break for them, a sanity break for me. But I'm scared.
In the summer we will do this again, only differece is, they won't be coming back. Why can't we have a peaceful drive before they go?
In the summer, they will punch eachother in the backseat as we drive through the Uintahs again. I will wish that we talked about the trees and how much we love eachother and how our lives will change. I guess we don't always get what we want in life.
