I see others are able to write just about every day on their blogs and I wish I could organize my time better to do so as well. It seems for me the busier I get the more I have to write about, but the less time I have to write about it in. With the hubby back in college for year 2, taking a couple of courses myself at our local college, homeschooling the 2 boys, various programs for all 5 kids, the house, the 3 girls, workshops, making Yule gifts, Grandview stuff and so on and so it’s been busy to say the least!
BUT I’m happy to say I think *fingers crossed* that I aced my ASL quiz last night.
I’m loving my ASL class. I find it fascinating and challenging. I’ve learnt more in 2 months than I did in 8 trying to learn it on my own. It’s the first of 6 that have to be done for my ASL certificate. I know some of my classmates are not looking into anymore than just this class, but I will be taking them for sure! Mind you it probably doesn’t hurt that I love to learn in general.
My English class is more difficult than I’d anticipated but I am confident I can rise to the challenges to meet my goal in that class as well. Most particularly, I am still weak in my punctuation and so no matter how eloquent, or articulate I am in my papers I still lose marks due to my love and overuse of the comma. So I will keep proof-reading multiple times in my quest to keep my 95% average, cause yay me 😀
I normally write about my wee ones, or about crafts/gifts I’m making but this week has a very special day in it that isn’t about either of those topics. It’s my mother’s 65th birthday this week. She is my inspiration every single day. Any time I’ve gotten caught up in society’s “me” attitude I look at her and I am humbled. She is a woman that has made more sacrifices than I can begin to list for her children. She is the epitome of a real wonder woman. There’s a line that Queen Hippolyta says to Wonder Woman before she leaves paradise island: “And remember that, in a world of ordinary mortals, you are a Wonder Woman.” While it was said by and to a make-believe character, nothing comes closer to the truth than that sentence about my mom.
She fights harder than any woman I’ve ever met for her kids and grandkids. But a pushover with us she’s not 😉 We all know not to try and pull crap with her or in any way in general for she’ll find out about…she always finds out, one of her superpowers I’m sure 😉 She’ll fight just as hard with us if she thinks we’re not living up to the potential she sees within us. But Gods forbid you hurt one of hers, mad at us or not she ALWAYS has our backs. I’m far from perfect and like everyone else I’ve made mistakes, said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing. Like all parents she’d get mad at some of my stunts, but no matter how mad she was I always knew she loved me unconditionally. If I’ve ever needed her, she’s been there.
But it’s not just me that she’s so fiercely loyal to. She comes across to others as gruff, as a hard-ass, and if you make her mad she really can be. What often gets overlooked is how loving she is. How far she bends for those she loves, how much she quietly gives in the background to those of us privileged enough to have a spot in her heart. For to be loved by her is to have someone in your corner for the rest of your life, no matter what. She taught me that being a good person is about doing the right thing even when no one was looking. That if I have to wait for others to see, than it’s not being a good person it’s being self-serving. She taught me to follow my dreams, and to live my life according to my own terms. To not bow to anyone’s opinions, not even hers, but to stand strong in my convictions in what is right for me and my kids. Just as she did. She taught us that we could do anything, and that she’d cheer as we soared as high as we dared. She taught us that life isn’t fair, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be. She taught me to be loyal to those I loved, and to work hard for what I wanted. She taught us through her example. She is one of the greatest blessings in my life. I can only hope my own children will look upon me when I’m 65 and see even half the value I see in her presence, in her love, in her friendship, in her.
Shoulders slightly hunched as he plucks at his pant strings. Sitting on the only chair in the room, he watches the other children dancing. It would be a sad picture of a child excluded, until you look at his face. He’s not forced to sit on the sidelines as it first appears. He’s focused intently on watching their dancing. He’s breaking down the flow and movements of limbs and core into pieces he can then re-create at home. In private he’ll try each move. If he’s stuck he’ll ask his brother for help. Even then, he’ll ask him to do them over and over until he’s sure he’s figured out the “how” to each one…Then he’ll dance. Joyfully, with abandon he’ll dance, for himself, and for all those he loves he’ll ask: “Wanna see my cool dude moves?” But first he’ll watch. I’m thankful our local YMCA accepts him as he is. I’m grateful they respect his ways, and understand his need to watch first. I’m glad they understand that for Mr. N watching IS active participation for him. It’s his way, and they smile at him and tell him he can join in with the actual dancing when he’s ready.
Just yesterday I was at Fabricland getting edging for lil miss’s quilt. As I perused all the options for it I came across the fabrics I’d used to make Joy’s special butterfly pillows. Beside them was an adorable pink and brown flower print and my first thought was that it’d make a really cute pillow for her this Christmas. Immediately, I realized where I’d gone wrong with that thought, and standing in an aisle of Fabricland I started to cry. Time is supposed to make it hurt less, at least that’s what I’m told, but it’s bullshit. It still hurts just as much, because the love we all felt for her hasn’t gone away. We’ll always love her just as much as when we were blessed with her presence in our lives.
I was organizing the hallway closet today, making room for all of our fall and winter gear and getting all of the summer stuff finally packed away. As I was hanging up fall jackets I came across an adorable bright pink coat covered in polka dots. It’s a size 2, and lil miss is now in a 3 but I couldn’t donate it to Value Village. For in faded blue pen it says “Joy” on the tag. Instead I sat on one of the kitchen chairs, clutching this small coat and cried. I cried because she won’t get to outgrow any more coats. I cried for all that we’ve lost as a family without her. I cried because I miss her so much, and I cried because I’m still so angry that someone so perfect had to go. I get that she’s in a better place, I get that she’s no longer hurting or struggling. But I’m angry that she had to struggle and hurt to begin with, and I’m angry that we have to go on without her, it’s not fair and while logically I know life isn’t fair, it doesn’t make it a damn bit easier.
Mr. N saw me crying about the coat and I told him I missed Joy. He said “Aww, that’s sad, I miss her too but she’s up in the sky, she’s watching over us” I’m sure she is, but I still wish I could see her smiling face one more time.