A Decade of Happiness. (a blog in pictures)

From the first moment we met, I loved you.

10 years of  Happiness because of you:)  I love you, Ruby Jane! Happy 10th Birthday!!

Sometimes I'm just incredibly sad

 So right now, this minute in fact, I have been mulling over some stuff that replays itself over and over in my mind.  Maybe it's not healthy. But sometimes you have to just feel it to get past it.  A lot of times lately, I find myself overcome with sadness.  It hits me in the strangest of places.  Yesterday I was grocery shopping.  As I was planning some healthy meals my kid would love, I noticed a butterfly shaped sandwich cutter.  (yes, it actually cuts a sandwich into the shape of a butterfly!) Every day I pack my girl her lunch.  One of her most favorite things are butterflies.  I had to get it.  As I placed it into my basket, out of no where, the tears came.  That homesick, missing someone, achiness over came me.

I've been praying a lot lately. I admit I ebb and flow in my prayer life. I could be better about it.  But, I've been having these down on my knees moments where I pray for specific needs.  Prayer of Jabez-ing if you will.  And at the top of my list is a friend for my girl.  My heart aches for her.  On Tuesday I missed her so much I parked my car near the school where I could see her, but she couldn't see me.  I wanted a glimpse of her jumping rope, running around, giggling.  Instead, I saw my little wallflower propped up against the wall looking longingly out into a sea of kids.  I sat there trying to will her a friend until her bell rang.  I know that people have way sadder stories and mine may seem improportionate to those.  And it may seem co-dependent to a lot of people. But to me, I am just missing this awesome little person who completes my day.  Who adds so much to my life.  And, I hate it. The missing part.

In the meantime, I fill this void with clever sandwich making, washing her favorite outfits and planting lantana to encourage the butterflies into our yard for her.  I find funny stickers and notes and little books to tuck inside her lunch pail to help her pass the long afternoon recess.  I buy her new markers and pick up pennies for her penny jar.  I find books she loves at the thrift store.

This sadness, it isn't all bad I suppose. It stretches me, makes me grow.  Teaches me to rely completely on my maker.  And it humbles me. Eventually, when I go back to work, some of this void will be filled. I will be in much closer proximity, able to see her throughout our days.  I can encourage her at recess with a quick hug.  I can be in her court when she needs me, and in the background when she doesn't.  It will ease my mind.  Erase the sadness.  And with all that new space, there will be plenty of room for the incredible happiness that  always follows.  

To Thine Own Self Be True

I finally realized, or maybe I've known all along, I was born in the wrong generation. I ache to be the stay at home mom. I really do.  I would love nothing better than to volunteer every.single.day at my daughter's school.  I would cut construction paper circles, laminate hearts, stamp and correct papers.  I would pack a creative, fun, noteworthy lunch for her every day.  I want to be the parent chaperone on all of the field trips.  It would thrill me to no end to read stories in the library to her class.  And I want to come home and cook healthy meals and crock pot recipes and have them turn out well.  (that may just be wishful thinking).

 When I was a kid, the majority of moms that I knew still stayed home.  And not only was that the norm, but no one even batted an eye.  It's not that I want to step back into a world with inequality.  I don't.  But I want to have the choice on the other side of that fence too. 

Last year was a long, hard school year.  I wanted nothing more than to yank my child out and keep her at home with me.  I wanted to teach her and be with her and not miss her so terribly.  I was so envious of my homeschooling friends. This summer I actually daydreamed about walking her to the nearby school. I could actually picture us walking hand in hand.  Smiling and happy.  I attended the same grade school and have so many fond memories.  Because my job situation recently changed, I was able to move her back to this school.  I am so grateful that it will simplify our lives even more. We can walk to work and school everyday!

Today when I went to pick Ruby up from school, I was reminded of her Kindergarten year.  Among those waiting for their kids outside the gate, the majority were for the younger set.  The parents were all chatting when another mom and I started to talk about our kids, our broken cars, the new school year.  It was then I realized this...THIS..is my niche.  I love being a parent waiting on their kid to be dismissed. I love discussing trivial things like when the school carnival will be, what songs the kids will sing at the annual Christmas program, what we think of all the new construction.   You know when people say to find your passion?  This is my passion.

As I stood outside today, talking and socializing, I got that ache.  That "I'm only an imposter" feeling.  I knew in a few days I would be returning to the work force and our days would get busier.  I also realize that most of these parents were in the same predicament as I was. They were picking their kids up before they were dropping them with another relative so they could go work the graveyard shift.  Some were grandparents that were raising their grandchildren. 

I know there are many moms and dads who probably share my feelings.  I also know, the majority of them, like myself, need to work.  I know I am lucky to be able to work in close proximity with my daughter.  I do feel very blessed.  But sometimes, when Ruby asks me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I give her my usual answer of "a mom" she laughs and says "No, mom, WHAT did you want to be?"  I realize I could come up with many answers, but my top choice would always remain the same.  It is knowing that I can't fulfill the position the way I wanted to that is sometimes disheartening.

This isn't so much about feeling sad about it all, but more the realization that my potential will never be reached.  I will ebb and flow and make adjustments along the way.  We will share wonderful times and memories, no doubt about it.  But, it's about realizing that even if my choices have led me down another path (and not necessarily a bad or wrong path) it was always okay to want a different direction all along.  It's about respecting those desires and not being intimidated by the fact that while others may find it mundane, uninspiring, even boring, it is what inspires me.  It's knowing that even though my vision for myself isn't exactly what I want, it isn't too far off from the mark. 

I Can See Clearly Now, The Rain Is Gone

We are nearing the half-way mark of Summer.  It's been busy. Mostly with doctors appointments and car repairs.  But, it's still better than juggling this along with working.  Things are changing.  Summer does that.  Kids grow, stretch taller, step further out into this world.  One thing I've noticed over the years, is that Ruby tends to have growth spurts during these months.  I attribute it to the longer hours of sleeping in, combined with all the vitamins from the sun.  Not sure if that's a proven scientific fact or just my own hypothesis. 

 A few days ago I took her in for an eye appointment.  She had been complaining about blurry vision for awhile, and even though she'd only been diagnosed with astigmatism in the past, I figured I should have her checked out.  I was amazed at the change in her vision over the course of 2 years.  Although the doctor reassured me that it was in fact quite normal for a child's vision to change so rapidly, I immediately felt upset that it wasn't caught earlier on.  That's what parents do, I suppose.  I felt foolish tearing up, as I watched her try to read those little letters.  I found myself (in my own head) trying to will the letters to her somehow.  As I watched the letters grow larger and she still wasn't able to read them, I began to panic. 

Luckily, the eye doctor had enough foresight (no pun intended) to explain to me that Ruby would indeed (even without glasses) still pass a driving test. That what looked to be gigantical letters to me, actually appeared much smaller in the reflection she was reading.  Oh, and yeah, she had one eye covered while she was trying to read them! Whew, way to go Dr. Marsh! You talked this mama off yet another proverbial bridge.

Sometimes parenting brings out the biggest fool in me.  Oh my goodness how I second guess everything.  I remember a few years ago when I tried to explain my feelings of angst to another person.  I was giving away some of Ruby's baby clothes and asked if I wasn't the only one who felt melancholy in doing so.  I mean, wasn't that just the saddest thing she ever heard?  She looked at me as though  I were crazy. 

Okay, so back to the eye doctor visit.  Things weren't going very smoothly to begin with.  Ruby was not thrilled that she would in fact need to have glasses.  She was even less thrilled trying to pick them out.  Again I reached out in commiseration to the gal who *helps* with the selection.  I said something along the lines of, "I bet a lot of kids are sad when they have to wear glasses, huh?"  Her prompt reply?  "No, most kids are very excited!"  Thanks lady, you've been a great help.  Excuse me while my daughter stonewalls me a bit longer.

We did finally settle on some cute frames.  They should be ready in a few weeks.  Just in time for Back to School.  Ruby told me today, in all of her 9 year old toughness, that she wouldn't be wearing them.  That she looks ugly.  I heard my own mother's words coming from my mouth.  "Yes young lady, you will be wearing them and you will look cute as a bug in a rug!" But, I get it.  Change is hard.  Growing up is hard.  And sometimes, your mom wishes she could wear your glasses for you.

Moulin Rouge and other sundry items.

So, for the last couple of days I've been home sick.  Cooped up, feeling lousy, going stir crazy.  I'm always so thankful for my health after being sick.  I think about what it would be like to be chronically ill.  And, I feel so badly for those who are and struggle with this on a daily basis.  After a day or two, I need to get out!

Late this afternoon, Ruby and I ventured out to return some movies and to pick up some facial soap.  I really like a certain brand. The only thing is, the last time I went to get it, I was treated so rudely by the clerk, I vowed never to go back to that store.  I don't spend a ton of money on cosmetics.  Rarely do I wear make-up.  But, I do splurge on my soap.

I was trying to think of where I could go and then remembered seeing it at a place in the mall called Sephora.  Perhaps you're familiar with Sephora. Well, let me just say, I had no clue about this place other than hearing my friend Jenna and little sister Amber rave about it when it first opened.  What is most shocking to me is how much fun someone who doesn't wear make-up can have in this store!

When we first went in, we were hit by all the scents (a bit over powering at first) and bright lights. On our way to get said soap, we were intercepted by a helpful clerk that led us directly to our destination. Little did I know that we would not leave for another hour and not without first getting a mini make over.  (Did I mention I don't wear make-up?)

What I loved most about Sephora (aside from the great staff), is how everything is available to test and try on.  By the time we walked down the nail polish aisle, Ruby had 10 different shades of polish on.  When asked if she liked Taylor Swift, she was quickly escorted to the perfume section where a sample of her latest perfume was put in her very own sample bottle to take home.  And when we encountered the lipstick aisle, I knew we would not leave before testing at least one lip gloss.

So, what does any 9 year old girl request when given an array of lipstick choices?  Why Moulin Rouge of course!  Up at the beauty counter she sat as the make up artist outlined and painted her lips the brightest color of red.  She giggled hysterically and then insisted that I have my turn.

In the end, we both looked like reality tv stars..er..um..I mean princesses.  We decided we'd give make-up a few more years.  She decided we looked too much like Olivia (a story about a pig that is always in some kind of mischief.) And I decided I just might splurge on the brown sugar lip exfoliant on my next visit.