Monthly Archives: August 2013

Summer lovin’, had me a blast!


imageThis summer has been wonderfully, unexpectedly crazy. I’ve gotten to travel and not only visit some wonderful people that I don’t usually get to spend time with, but also have a few adventures with them.

I look at all of the first day of school pictures posted and realize how quickly summer is winding down. Summer used to be my absolute favorite season. Hot days that included swimming, relaxing, and seeing friends. No stress, no responsibility. Now as an adult, I’m unable to disregard the daily activities of life for three months, autumn has worked it’s way up to favorite season. The smells, flavors, and loved ones birthdays and anniversaries are plentiful. Not to mention football season. Something about the chill in the air and the colors surrounding that make me want to be a outside and a part of it all.

This autumn so close, I want to catch up on posting summer so that I can move on to thoroughly enjoy the season. This summer was too well, wonderfully, unexpectedly crazy not to share, with Hunger Game tours, Madhouse Masquerade, adventures in running, roller derby gals, and other great times to come. Now hopefully life can slow down a bit to fully enjoy my favorite time of year.


Just like that…everything is different


Jamie and MattI’m going through one of those times when life just doesn’t seem to make sense. It is unfair and heartless and I wish that I could revert back to a much younger age when it’s more appropriate to throw myself on the floor and take out my anger through a tantrum. I feel lost. I feel heartbroken. And I have no idea how to get any relief from this pain.

Whenever I am amidst a tragedy, I hate doing something “normal”, like grocery shopping. My mother died the day before her 50th birthday and we had already planned a tea party (by her request) to celebrate. Invites were accepted and friends had cleared their busy schedules to be there with my mom. After her death, my sisters and I decided to continue with the party and celebrate my mom’s life along with her birthday. We went to the grocery store to do the necessary shopping and I still remember standing in the produce department looking around me and getting angry that everyone was just carrying on with their lives while my heart was destroyed. I know that this is a somewhat crazy and definitely irrational response, but I just can’t help it. I’ve noticed this reaction every single time something life shattering happened to me. That’s when I know how severely I’ve been affected, at that moment of anger.

This weekend I was forced into the store again and as I was making my way through the aisle, listening to the general movement of a group of shoppers, it hit me again. And again I was angry. Everyone seemed so happy, enjoying the weather, making the most of their Sunday, and I stood there feeling broken, alone, and miserable. Some things just don’t make sense. Bad things happen to good, deserving people. No one and nothing can be of comfort.

I miss my mom


946858_407515752690539_1630103804_nLast month was the 11th anniversary of my mom’s passing. Every year this day makes me reminisce. This year I realized that it was a lot harder. Time has passed and worn these memories down to faint and even nonexistent. For some reason my mind has attached to the days before her passing with very limited memories before that time. Only the outstanding moments, the incidences that make my mom stand out as a mom, remain easily recallable.

I can’t remember my mom’s voice. I don’t remember how she talked or her body language. I can’t easily recall her smell or the feel of her skin. I can’t tell you how hard she hugged or how soft she kissed. I can’t even remember advice or encouragement. I can’t remember how it feels to make her proud or even to let her down. So little is left.

I have to admit that it’s tearing me apart that this happening. I know how time works and I’d be lying if I didn’t expect this to happen, but what I hate most is that these memories aren’t being replaced by new ones. I don’t have any recent hugs to recall or words of wisdom to reflect on. I don’t feel like I have anyone left that is always on my team, my unconditional cheerleader. Every time a memory slips away, I feel like a piece of mom is gone.

Last night Collin refused to sleep. This is strange for him. He refused all of my “tricks”; rocking, singing, reading, rubbing, nothing was working. I tried sitting in his bed, sitting beside his bed, leaving the room, again, nothing was working. Finally completely annoyed with no more tricks, I sunk in the rocking chair in his room with nowhere else to go. Faster than I could blink, Collin was curled up in my lap looking up at me with those big grey eyes like his protest never happened.

I couldn’t help but to wonder how many times I was curled up on my mom’s lap studying her face, how many moments we had together. I know that Collin won’t remember this night, just like I don’t remember those nights with my mom. It is one of many for him, though. As we rocked, I took the opportunity to smell his hair, touch his soft skin, and feel his weight on my lap. I know that this memory will fade for me, as well. When he graduates from high school, I won’t be able to easily recall his weight, his smell, or his softness in the months before he turned two.

The only comfort that I have is knowing that these memories will be replaced with the many to come in the future. He’ll soon be forming words more accurately and I’ll forget the cute sound of his “no”. He will grow into a man and I’ll forget his pudgy toddler body. His large appetite won’t be so laughable when it starts seriously increasing our grocery bills. It’s exciting to see him grow into an amazing person, even with my current memories being the cost.

As much as it pains me, I feel like all I have left is to create my own mom memories. It’s as much for my boys as it is for me. The one thing that I can be sure of is that she was an amazing mom. My goal is to make my kids say the same about me, no matter how their memories work.