I'm Just His Ma

When my children were little and they would get mad at me it would soon pass.  Usually this would occur if I had to correct them for something or if I refused to let them do something ridiculous like jumping off of a roof with a blanket for wings.  Ok, I'm exaggerating about the roof and blanket but you get the drift.  Now that they are grown it is different.  I have three children who are totally different which is a good thing.  I like individualism in people and I love it in my children.  It means that maybe I did my job in raising them to be free thinkers, to be leaders, not followers, to be different and be proud of it.  Now that we are all grown, yes a mom has to grow too, often we don't agree with each other.  I can honestly say that when one or more of my children are angry with me the pain in my heart is real.  I know I do not sit on a pedestal in view of my children.  I know that one of my children has distanced himself from what feels like a million miles from me. I am not talking physically but emotionally.  As hard as it is I have to accept that in his eyes I am not the perfect mom.  Long hours of thought and tears has led me to realize there is not much I can do about that at this point in our lives.  My oldest calls me for advice but rarely listens to it.  She is the whirling dervish of the family and each day I pray she stops spinning, anchors herself fast to her dream and flourishes.  Which leads me to my youngest, the shining star in my life.  Oh how he has amazed me since the day he was born.  Mothers are not supposed to have favorites but we do tend to have that one child that is the twinkle in our eye.  Like my Angel With The Funny Bone, "T" was a gift from God to me.  He wasn't supposed to be but "T" doesn't take NO for an answer even with his existence.  So for twenty years, in amazement, I've watched this gift turn into amazing human being.  I've delighted in his accomplishments and been saddened at his disappointments. His pictures, drawings, grades decorated my desk and refrigerator.  The smallest scrap of paper which showed his talent was held in awe by this mom.  His laughter, our morning talks, the music he made which drifted from his room all brought me such happiness.   This child of mine has held me up so many times when I was about to fall. He has supported me in so many of my own tragedies.  When a mother should have been the support for her child this child of mine was supporting me.  And then one day, all too soon, he was out the door, grown into a man that any mom could be proud of.   I think back to my mom and dad gone so long ago and how even today I would turn to them  for their approval at my accomplishments.  We never change in wanting something positive from our parents. That little scrap of paper on the refrigerator has now turned into major life decisions or accomplishments.  The child in us still wants that special look from our mom or dad telling us "we did good".  Which brings me to this day.  I failed to realize how a decision "T" had made was such an important one to him.  It was evidently done with a great deal of thought, a great deal of preparedness and a bit of courage.  I failed as a mom to recognize this and I failed by making light of it.  Mom's don't always agree with the decisions of their adult children but we shouldn't belittle it.  This is my apology to my son; and, at least this son will listen to my apology.  I love you so much "T" that sometimes it is hard to see beyond the little boy in the cast dancing to the tune of a band at Disney World.  So I accept your decision to blow far from the tree.  May God always be with you my child and remember, this MA is only human.

Due to lack of energy

Due to lack of energy and immense amount of discomfort and pain today's post has been canceled.

Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder?

They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder but is that the most important thing?  I have come to realize in the last couple years that beauty is something we should seek internally as well as externally.  Since October 2008 I've been going through reconstruction to "undue" what breast cancer has done to my body.  I thought at first it was just the natural steps to take.  Step one, discover the lump, step two get rid of the lump, step three mastectomy to get rid of the remaining cancer, step four chemotherapy, step five lose my hair, step six finish chemo, step six grow back the hair and then we come to the big step seven reconstruction.  Step seven I thought was just part of the process, that it was something I should do.  I still feel I've made the right decisions but I learned along the way something kind of amazing.  I felt deformed but my family didn't think of me that way.  I just assumed that my family and friends thought of me as poor gal she is disfigured.  Silly huh?  Recently, for reasons that don't need to be mentioned in this blog, a man asked my husband if I had any scars.  He answered yes I had some scars from my lupus outbreak on my arms and I had a couple scars from surgeries when I was younger.  He never mentioned the scars from the mastectomy or the reconstruction.  I sat there and watched him amazed at his answer.  I actually thought he was having one of his forgetful moments. *S*  A couple days ago I had what I hope is my last surgery for reconstruction. It is painful but hopefully it is the last one.  Sitting across from me in the hospital my husband asked me about my vanity to have put myself through so many operations and so much pain.  I was devastated and hurt beyond belief that he would call me vain after all I've been through. I also was speechless.  Yesterday I confronted him about his calling me vain.  He apologized and said it was the wrong choice of words made during a time when he was very tired and stressed from worrying about me.  In other words, it didn't matter to him how I looked after the cancer but he hated seeing me go through so many surgeries and so much pain just for the sake of looks.  But IT did matter to me how I looked.  All of the surgeries, the pain, the scars and everything else mattered to ME.  I asked him about his remark to the man who asked if I had scars.  He said he honestly didn't even think about them as scars.  So in the end the Beholder who seeks the beauty is ME.  But it leaves me wondering about all the other people in the world who seek to make themselves "more beautiful" through unnecessary surgery and quick fixes.  Isn't it a shame that we can't look for our beauty inwards instead of on the surface.  I'm no exception to the rule but I'll try a little harder now to find contentment with who I am.