Life, life, life

The fall always seems to fly by in my world. If I am shooting, my weekends are filled with football, sometimes baseball, likely some lacrosse and often with mini sessions and holiday photos. I shoot into November most years. I don’t get a lot of “days off” anyway but the fall means almost none and this year’s been the busiest ever. We’d made the decision to put the biggest boys in both baseball and football this fall. Felt like it would be easier to swing being that one boy plays for school and that meant no weekend games.

We were utterly wrong and the season handed us our asses not so gently. Between weekday practices and weekend games, I’d easily spent 20 hours a weekend in my car and I think half our paycheck went directly to Wawa. I was done, I am done. And it’s not even halfway through November. My house is in a state of disarray. I can’t get caught up on laundry and my hopes of another handmade holiday are all but dashed. I dislike the holiday season and Target vomiting Christmas at me already, makes me want to cry. I’m not ready; I am not ready Target.

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Between weekday practices and weekend games, I’d easily spent 20 hours a weekend in my car and I think half our paycheck went directly to Wawa. I was done, I am done. And it’s not even halfway through November. My house is in a state of disarray. I can’t get caught up on laundry and my hopes of another handmade holiday are all but dashed. I dislike the holiday season and Target vomiting Christmas at me already, makes me want to cry. I’m not ready; I am not ready Target. I’m barely through Halloween and damn it, I’d like some Turkey before I am inundated with the hustle and rush of the holiday.

The minority I realize but the joys of Christmas isn’t there for me. It just seems to miss the mark. Oh, the joys of the half empty brain.

Today is election day. It’s been a tumultuous election at best and I’ve done well to stay out of most of the conversation. I get heated up about things that are hot-button items but I know in my logical head that no amount of Facebook debating will likely change another person mind. I know, despite reading both sides on a lot of these items, my opinion rarely wavers.  I keep wishing the election is over. That we can go back to the flat, fakeness of politic-free Facebook but I fear the outcome, either him or her, will start some horrible war and with is we’ll all just lose our minds and self-implode. It’s unfortunate how ugly these things make people. But I wonder if maybe some of us are just really good at hiding our ugly. Makes my heart heavy.

My heart is very heavy.

I don’t know what to do with this blog. All the blogs no of days are top tens and recipes, crafts. I am at the junction of “what is the point” and “waste of space”. That doubt monster tells me I’m not really writing anything and I don’t know how to migrate to the world of monetizing. I am so stuck in the “perfect” that I can’t even start. I can’t get out of  this circle of trying to figure out who I am. It’s like I am a dog chasing his tail. I’m just in a constant state of dizzy and going nowhere. I don’t even know why I wrote that.

Life, life life. It’s all just life.

 

 

Hi! I’m Gail, the voice behind Mimicking Motherhood. I started blogging after the birth of my 2nd child as a way to connect with far away family. Things have definitely changed since then. Now, mama to five, this is a place to help connect with other mothers, who feel like me.I love to make and write all while trying to figure out how to be myself in the world of anxiety and depression. Glad you stopped by.

On letting go

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This has been the summer of kids going away. Drew was away for camp at the end of June. Davis, this entire week for camp as well and tomorrow I put my 16-year-old on a bus bound for the airport and a plane that will not only take her out of the country; it will take her away from home for the very first time.

I can feel my heart breaking.

The logical part of my brain says, “let them go. Let them grow!” But my heart feels like there is something terribly wrong. I imagine this week will be the longest week ever. After the longest week ever following June’s longest week ever.

So fast they grow.

I hope she comes back with bright eyes. I think sometimes she thinks she going to a South American vacation; forgetting she is there to serve. She says she doesn’t but most of her excitement is thinking about the crystal blue waters and hotel night. I did see glimpses of her realizing what the trip was when she talked about her “job” there. She tried to play off her excitement doing the “dance moves” at the Kids’ Camp they’ll be running, like it was lame. I could see though, she was excited to do for those little kids and teach them the songs and moves she grew up loving. I could see her tiny 9-year-old face looking at the stage at her own kids’ camp, wanting to be the cool kids teaching the little kids all about God.

I keep going over her packing list. Over and over. Making sure her clothes are sprayed and worrying if she will be too hot or too cold or her braces will break and she will be in discomfort. I give her advice about thing like staying close to her group and as insane as it sounds, making friends with a boy to stay close with. I tell her to hand over whatever a thief wants and to make sure not to lose her passport or her money. “Stay off your phone and breathe it in”, I say knowing that what I really want is her to text me every minute of every day. She cant and even if she could, I am not sure she would. I know she’ll miss us but I fully expect she’ll be too busy living to worry about updating us. As it should be when you’re 16 and leaving the country for the first time.

I hope she comes home with a full heart. Before the teen years set in, she was the smiliest, bubbliest, caring-est kid but like most girls in the 7th grade, she got the smile kicked out of her with the general cattiness that is middle school. Her dad and I reminisce about those days a lot. The teen years have greatly changed how she relates to people. I partially blame my relationship issues with her “friend troubles”. That smiley, friend to everyone girl is in there and hope stepping outside the harshness of high school will help her revisit that girl. I hope she comes home remember how good and kind and wonderful she is.

I keep thinking in the back of my head, “why in the hell did I agree to this?” Because they grow up and you have to let go I guess? Because I want her to live life full of “I did it” and not full of “I wish I had”. I let her go, I want her to go, because I want her to do all the things. But I won’t lie, I’ve never felt more sad and afraid in my life and my turbulent relationship with faith makes it hard for me to just trust that whatever happens is in her plan. I’ve been up nights worrying about the what ifs. And hoping and praying she doesn’t become one.

All this will be over before we know it. She’ll be home sharing photos of one of the coolest things she’ll ever experience. I can’t wait to hear about it… and I can hardly let her go.

So pray for us both this week. For her safety, for her growth and for her poor mama’s breaking heart.

Hi! I’m Gail, the voice behind Mimicking Motherhood. I started blogging after the birth of my 2nd child as a way to connect with far away family. Things have definitely changed since then. Now, mama to five, this is a place to help connect with other mothers, who feel like me.I love to make and write all while trying to figure out how to be myself in the world of anxiety and depression. Glad you stopped by.

All these moments

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I chased my tiny boy up and down the beaches of New Jersey this weekend. I couldn’t help but think of the tiny boy in Orlando who’d lost his life just a week earlier as I watched Dixon splash in the waves of the high tides. I felt so very lucky that I could carry his wet body back to our hotel and as he reached for me to nurse him and put him to bed I felt grateful that despite feeling this profound sadness, it does not even scratch the surface of theirs. He reached for me more than usual this weekend. I think he can sense how upset this little boy’s death has made me. I think about it and hope that as they lay him to rest today, that I will stop getting so choked up each time I look at my son or at Lane’s sweet photographs online… because I am so sad for their loss and so selfishly grateful it isn’t my own. Even though it feels very deep in my heart and very deep in my soul.

I don’t understand why God takes children. I never will and I find it very difficult to just trust his plan when things like this happen. Because I can’t see the good in taking a child from a family. I’m almost afraid to type that out. It’s like publicly admitting my faith feels shattered. Which meant it probably wasn’t that strong.  I’m not sure I’d survive the loss of my child. I am not sure I’d come back from that. I don’t know how people just trust it’s God’s plan and it makes me wonder why I can’t just trust that there is a reason for these things. Because what is the reason for a child to die… in any way but especially like that? I’m very grateful for how private they are. I am so glad to not have to see photos of that funeral. Selfish as that may sound.

But I know the days will pass and I won’t think of it so much. With each passing day I will have less sadness and the news wwill not be filled with his images, reminding me daily of this horrible loss. But his mother and father will, everyday for the rest of their lives. They’ll have this brokenness forever. Each time they pass a photo. Each time they find a hidden toy he’d left behind. They’ll forever have this sadness and I’m so sorry for that. So very sorry.

I am, unfortunately sometimes, an empath. I feel things that I shouldn’t sometimes.  It makes me feel embarrassed and weak. God knows it must sound crazy to weep for a child that isn’t even someone I know. I’m pretty sure my husband is ready to kill me. And Devlynn keeps reminding me they will not get attacked by a gator in our small town but I now cannot help but worry about the “what ifs” as I pack them up for both camp and Belize. It’s hard for me. And I try and hide the anxiety of it all but it’s not the easiest battle to fight alone and internally. And I worry about what people think of me when I say these things out loud. I’ve really tried to stop letting the inside stuff, out.

I think about The Secret Life of Bees. In it there is a story of a wailing wall. A place to go to let go of the sadness; the worries of the world. I think perhaps I need one of my own so I don’t find myself hiding swollen eyes at baseball. Seems silly to be so sad but I just can’t stop it sometimes. I need a place that I can tuck my sadness into so that I am not crippled by it all the time. I joke all the time with Kevin I need a new brain. But it’s not really a joke. I’d give anything not to feel all the things.

Tonight though, I’ll hold my tiny boy a little closer. In this tragedy I’ve taken away that life is precious and short and you never know. And my baby will only be my baby for so long. And so I’ll hold him and know that Matt and Melissa Graves would give anything to hold their son one more time. It’s a privilege I won’t take for granted.

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Hi! I’m Gail, the voice behind Mimicking Motherhood. I started blogging after the birth of my 2nd child as a way to connect with far away family. Things have definitely changed since then. Now, mama to five, this is a place to help connect with other mothers, who feel like me.I love to make and write all while trying to figure out how to be myself in the world of anxiety and depression. Glad you stopped by.