remodeling this life

I had a long and emotionally exhausting day yesterday. I chalk about 95% of it up to the emotions from weaning. The other 5% is that people suck.

I just kinda got going on this whole negativity funk all morning and then in the afternoon, I got a reminder that life is so fragile. A friend of a friend lost her baby. She was 7 months pregnant and it was her first child. I just cannot even begin to imagine that. I don’t know her and my heart breaks for her. Once you’re a mother you just have a bond whether you know a person or not and it’s just unfathomable to me that amount of pain.

So I slapped myself back to reality and realized how good I have it. My kids are happy (unless I haven’t fed them in a while) and healthy. I have everything in my life that I need. There is nothing in this world I need that I do not have. How freaking amazing is that? I mean, really?! Amazing!

And then…

I got all reminiscent. Thinking of the long road it has been for me to get to this place of happiness and being okay with good enough. 11 years ago, I was getting treated for an eating disorder. I was miserable with myself and my life and I was blaming the world around me for the injustice of it all. I was at a bad place with my parents. I was young and stupid. I had no idea how great I had it and all I should have been thankful for. I think it was shortly after meeting hubby 11 years ago that I stopped hating the world but kept hating myself. I never had great self-esteem as a kid and that continued into my late teen years and early adulthood. (Am I really not in early adulthood anymore? Yikes!) After being treated for and continuing to recover from my self-inflicted misery of an eating disorder, I slipped back into it a few years ago worse than ever. When I think back on those days, it seems like I’m remembering watching a bad after school special on television. It was so ugly what I did to myself and went through because I couldn’t see far enough past myself to realize there was much more to life than holding onto the bad stuff.

I let go of old grudges. I forgave the bad stuff that had been done to me and I started to move on. I said this to myself and I still say it to myself often. “My childhood was bad if I choose to remember the bad. My childhood was good if I choose to remember the good.” That pretty much can go for anything. It’s what I choose to hold onto, how I choose to look at things that make them the way they are. I have a good life if I am willing to look at the good and embrace it instead of focusing on things that are not good.

Back to the story…I wanted to have kids but didn’t really know what that meant. Then after a while of trying, I was graced with the amazing gift that is my daughter. She is such a blessing in all ways imaginable. She keeps me on my toes, she keeps me real, she keeps me laughing, crying, loving, appreciating. She tells me when I should or shouldn’t buy something for myself. At 3 1/2 she told me last week in a store loud enough for everyone to hear “No, don’t buy that skirt mommy. Your butt is too big for it.” before even seeing me try it on. Right there I hugged her and laughed. 5, 10 years ago, I would have been mortified and starved myself for weeks on end. She just keeps it real, keeps me grounded.

I know I’ve babbled before about the last two years – the transitions, the ups and downs, the good and the bad. All I have to say about that time now is that I am grateful. Grateful that the second chance I offered was welcomed. Grateful for the beautiful baby boy that came out of the turmoil. Grateful for the end of that road and moving onto a brighter tomorrow. Grateful for depression medication that helps keep hubby together and our family sane. Grateful for the unconditional love of friends who helped me through the worst patch of my life. Grateful to my parents for helping me when I needed it most and asking for nothing more than me just being me in return.

I could look at that time and play a victim. A victim of a faltering marriage and an angry husband. But I’m not. I’m not a victim. I’m just a girl who was shown rock bottom so that I can appreciate the little things more. I know how bad things can get quickly so I don’t take for granted my family or friends. I don’t take for granted a roof over my head. I enjoy and savor the amazing moments that make up each and every day with my husband and children and know to be thankful for smiling faces and a good life.

I had one of those evenings. A few hours where I just was able to slow down and look at the life I have going on and appreciate it. My hubby came home and said he’d make dinner and clean up (and even though he fell asleep on the couch before the kitchen was clean it’s the thought that counts, right?) and he told me he arranged a credit at a landscaping place in town and I have the afternoon tomorrow to go pick out plants/trees/flowers for the yard and house. I am not sure what I am more excited about – the landscaping or the shopping by myself

The kids have been so great. Drew put on a princess dress tonight and her princess high heels and grabbed some flowers from a vase and said to her daddy “will you be my valentine and marry me?” and Eli – well, he’s tired today because he barely napped but he’s just been so cute and snuggly.

Hubby – well, he’s been great too. He’s tired. He’s worked so hard for so long. He gives all of himself to everything he does. And then comes home to offer as much as he has left to his family in smiles and giggles and games and love.

Putting the kids to bed tonight I had that overwhelming feeling of how lucky I am. How fortunate I am to have two very healthy and happy kids and a loving and hardworking husband. As I read books with Drew and snuggled in the rocking chair with Eli I thought of how every moment could be my last. Or their last. In life you just never know. And I have my times of being frustrated and just wanting time for myself or just wanting them to go to bed sooner or whatever. But I let all that go and I just enjoyed it. Enjoyed the snuggles and hugs and stories and giggles and forgot about anything other than just being what they needed. With the thoughts in my mind “what if this is the last time I ever read her a story?” or “what if this is the last time I ever snuggle my son?” and “what if I never get to tell him I love him again?” I made sure it was special. It made me stop and slow down and remember what is really important. Why I am here. What time my kids go to bed doesn’t matter. I just want them to know they are loved. Know that their mom would do anything for them. I want my baby girl to remember me brushing her hair and singing her songs before bed. I want my baby boy to remember me giggling with him and carrying him around showing him the amazing things there are to see in the world.

I can’t ever be sure they’ll remember me for those things if this day were my last. But I tried. I can only give them a footprint. A part of me to remember. I vow to make that me a smiling and appreciative me. A me that would do anything for them and give anything for them. A me that loves them more than anything else in the world and appreciates them for all that they are and all that they dream to be.