Slurping Life

Crunches and Drinks and Sits and Thinks

Decisions.  Life calls for a multitude of them every day...every hour.  Shy away from firmly making decisions and you miss, well, you miss life. 

A chance to sing...sing.  A chance to dance...dance.  A chance to love, hug, smile, reach out a hand...do it.  Regretting the did not do is far more disheartening than any rejection that may come from the doing.  The essence of life is doing.

The world is open to all of our dreams.  Our dreams hinge upon our decision...to do.

While sometimes I just sits and thinks, and sometimes I crunches and drinks and sits and thinks, I have decided to do.  Enough of my stagnancy of indecision and moping...there are glorious things to do.

So, what decision should you make today? 

Do not sits and thinks too long...decide...and...do.

Keeping it real...not a planned Best Shot Monday...the Hot Wheels monster truck and vitamin bottle in the background...parts of life.  You cannot separate the parts of your life.  Don't even try.

 

Do You Suppose God Wants Me To Have A Big Butt?

Because it is one thing that I could easily accomplish.

And that is all you will ever know about this post.  Seriously.  I typed my heart out...expressed my reasoning with eloquence and humor...and then...then...my laptop screen went green...completely solid green...no words.  What the heck does that mean?  A black screen, I've seen.  A blue screen, I've seen.  But never in my multiple times ten years of living have I seen a green computer screen.

Yep, God wants me to have a big butt.

The end.

At Which Point The Seams Unravel

In one moment
the togetherness
that was me
has come undone.
No longer loosening
one stitch at a time.
Rather,
every seam
has unraveled.
The garment that once
clothed my composure
has come undone.
My soul lies naked.
There is no cover
to
warm
me.

The phone call came Thursday afternoon.  We now have a new doctor on our roster...a Pediatric Cardiologist.  I literally came unraveled.  It was as though someone pulled loose that last dangling thread that was holding me together.

I had not planned on a phone call revealing my Wrapped Emotions project this week.  When Phyllis, our guest blogger, posted her intriguing project, I knew what I would do. 

But I don't care what you use (the ideas above, or paper or fabric is fine or even cookies if you'd like - the sky's the limit)...break something or cut something or separate something and then put it all back together into a new and beautiful whole. Breaking something changes it, perhaps irreparably, but it gives us a new opportunity, a new chance, a new beginning, to create something different and something whole.

(You should read the entire post.)

But then literally, I became unraveled by the one more thing, the one more diagnosis, the one more problem placed in our family's life.  One more issue with which my child must deal. One more issue with which our family must deal.  I never try to explain here how truly difficult it is navigating and nurturing the needs of my sons.  It is so tiring to live it, emotionally and physically, that I can't even think about delving deeply into words of explanation.  Plus I do not like to whine...yet, here I am, whining.

I took my favorite t-shirt and cut it up.  I sloppily brushed gesso across a page of my art journal.  I pressed the irregular squares of pink fabric into the gesso, leaving my fingerprints on each one.  When I finished I noticed that down the center was the seam of the T-shirt...cut, broken, but almost together...almost together.  This was unintentional, done without thought.  Seeing it made we wonder.  Will our life always be "almost together"?

I honestly don't know how to feel right now.  I can't even cry.  I want to disappear.  Is this how it feels to lose one's mind?

Night Ritual

I sit on the cold planks of the open deck

Close my eyes, breathe in darkness

As my skin feels beams

Of a moon

Hung only

for

me.

~Melody

Share other rituals at Thursday's Theme.

Yesterday ~ Remembering for Best Shot Monday

My Grandmama was strong...and soft...and bright...and never flickering.  She gave me childhood summers that I remember as perfect. Most of all she gave me herself.  Yesterday was the tenth anniversary of her death.  But she'd tell you it was the tenth anniversary of the beginning of her life.  She was that devout and steadfast in her Faith. 

Until this morning I did not understand why I felt so distant, so out of sorts yesterday.  Then I remembered...

 

Yesterday

I did not understand

My need to cry,

My feelings of loss and longing,

My heart's ache.

Today

I remember you being

My source of strength,

My light of warmth and hope,

My heart's joy.

Forever

I see you dancing;

I feel your spirit;

I hear your words of love;

I remember you.

~Melody

Thank you for reading and, thereby, honoring my Grandmother with me. 

Visit the home of Best Shot Monday where your gracious, talented host is Tracey.

Our Little House In The Big Woods

As darkness hugs our little house in the big woods, creatures of the night chirp and twitter their endearing songs.  The boys are tucked into bed, our nightly read aloud complete.

...Laura called out softly, "What are the days of auld lang syne, Pa?"

They are the days of a long time ago, Laura," Pa said.  "Go to sleep, now."

But Laura lay awake a little while, listening to Pa's fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods.  She looked at Pa sitting on the bench by the hearth, the fire-light gleaming on his brown hair and beard and glistening on the honey-brown fiddle.  She looked at Ma, gently rocking and knitting.

She thought to herself, "This is now."

She was glad that the cosy house, and Pa and Ma and the fire-light and the music, were now.  They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now.  It can never be a long time ago.

I began our read aloud of Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House in the Big Woods not knowing if it would be a book the boys would want to absorb and enjoy.  As we turned the last page of the book tonight the question, "Will we begin reading Little House on the Prairie tomorrow, mom?" rang in unison from the lips of my boys.  My heart smiled.  I even imagined they called me "Ma".

Each night after the boys are in bed I listen to the whispers of childhood banter...the giggles of boyhood delight...the thud of pillows hitting their targets.  And I hold so tightly to these sounds, these joys.  This is now.  Now is now.  And I pray, "God please let their now never, ever leave them.  Let them always be safe, feel loved and have one another.  Please.  Amen."

As hurried adults do we breathe deeply...inhale the reality of now?  Do we slow down and embrace the small hand which gives us a crumpled weed in complete love and devotion?  Do we warmly thank the kind stranger who smiles and gathers our dropped goods as we hurry from the market to return to our small lives?  Do we realize that now is all we have for certain?  Do we cherish now?   Do we live now?  This is now.

Real Moms Are Worn By Love

The moment Tracey tagged me for the Real Moms meme I knew my answer.  Whenever anyone questions me about "realness", one of my favorite stories comes to mind...The Velveteen Rabbit.

Real moms are worn by love, can't be ugly and are for always.

Generally by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and your get loose in the joints and very shabby.  But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.

...once you become Real you can't become unreal again.  It lasts for always.

Margery Williams summed it up quite nicely, don't you think?

"Bunny Mom and Her Bunnykins Easter 2006"

Okay,  Natalie (because I just read your carousel from hell post), Marie (because your words are always beautiful), Jen (because you found the SNL Dora skit as funny as I did) ,  Jennefer (because you're having so many fun experiences with your new daughter) and De (because your life is such a paradise just like mine)...you are all tagged.

If you have not been tagged specifically and your are reading this, you are now officially tagged.  Read all about the Real Mom meme and go here for inspiration from others.  Post your response on your blog; please come back and comment here so that I (and others) may read your inspiring, hilarious or insane words; and let Kristen know your post is up to be included in the original index.

What are you waiting for?  Run, you're it!

Adjective Children

A child

is

not an adjective --

bipolar child

ADHD child

asperger's syndrome child

cerebral palsy child

adopted child --

a child

is

a child.

just my thoughts, Melody

Best Shot Monday, The Swing on His Terms

He never swung high. 

He never called "Mom, push me".

He never let me into his world. 

He just sat and spun and thunk.

See my Tabblo>

What I would have given for a glimpse inside.  To truly appreciate the depth of his thoughts click "see my Tabblo" above and then click each picture to enlarge.   (Remember to come back here and wave "hello" in the comments.)

Every Monday visit Tracey at Picture This for a look at all the Best Shot Monday photos.  Just visit her comments and click on the posted links.  Then join us in the weekly fun.

Focus

I do not

mourn the loss

of the child

to never be

but I delight

in the child

who has become.

       --Melody

Therapists, psychologists, writers...they tell me that as a parent of special children I must first mourn the loss of the child I will never have.  Meaning, I assume, a "normal" child.  Normal is a relative term.  Normal for one child is not normal for another.

I embrace the normalcy of my special children.

Apple Standoff

I'm a bag of apples

Dumped upon the floor

I'm a bag of apples

Here...days, four.

I hear a woman calling

The man who dumped me here

I hear a woman calling

"Please move the apples, dear"

I'm a bag of apples

And this you may surmise

I'm a bag of apples

Still here...days, five.