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Embracing Change: Trusting God’s Plan and Making Lemonade

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It won’t be long before Im moving. Again. That will make 8 times in 7 years, quite a change in the vision I had of my future as a 20 -year old. In my earlier years, I pictured myself residing in the same home (my “forever home”) I built with my husband, raised my children, and would spend my last days rocking grandchildren on the front porch. This version of my future filled me with contentment and all the warm-fuzzies.

Obviously, God has a different plan for me. I accept that and I trust that, even though I mourn the loss of that vision that had become such a part of me. Sometimes, you must make space to grieve the loss of a future that you once envisioned. Make space for the grief. Feel fully the pain of regret for things that just don’t turn out the way you expected.Sit in the pain and sorrow. Cry. Feel. Move in and amongst it. Examine it. Give those dreams a big, tight hug. Make peace with their parting. Then let them go.

Things changed. You changed and so did others. It hurts but now it’s time to grow. Your life and purpose must be addressed. It’s time to grow where you have been planted. Here, we make lemonade from the lemons we’ve been handed. We learn, we adjust, we adapt, we live to learn some more. Perspective is gained.

If, like me, you’ve held a vision or expectation for a part of your life that hasn’t unfolded exactly as you imagined, I hope you can find comfort in this: there is often a plan at work, one far greater and better than we could have anticipated. Be thankful. Trust God. Trust His process. Trust in your resilience and, of course, your ability to make lemonade.

When the Heart Breaks

Melanie Leave a comment

It’s easy to become stuck in a desperate”fix-it-at-all-costs” situation if you feel threatened by the loss of a relationship. You place yourself in danger of accepting things or making compromises that don’t align with your authentic self, simply because you want to avoid the loss of your familiar routine way of living, even if that way has become unhealthy for you.

The process of accepting “what is” and moving forward becomes even more complicated when the ego is at play. In the past, Ive felt the want for my partner to validate my worth in ways that I felt I could receive, albeit over the top . My ego was involved. I could not recognize how my partner WAS doing exactly what I was asking- just not in the way I’d expected or requested. I didn’t receive the effort. Through many grueling trials, I learned that not everyone can react the way I think I need. What now? Here, I must become uncomfortable with myself as I set my ego aside and accept what is in front of me- or not. Either way, in order to progress to a state of peace, a change from the current situation must occur and that is what is most difficult for people. I must come to terms with the reality that I will not get the validation I see in the exact manner in which I see it. It’s similar to not getting that apology you believe you are owed. Where does that leave you, emotionally? Can you find contentment in yourself so that you don’t rely on another to ease the turmoil within you? This is the real internal work. No matter what the situation or relationship, no matter what the outcome, you have to trust that YOU will take care of YOU.

How do I take care of me?

  1. Acknowledge that you are capable of loving and being loved.
  2. Appreciate the things that you learned. No time is ever wasted, even in “bad’ relationships. With a growth mindset, you can reflect on how you’ve become a better version of you. Did you learn more about personal boundaries? Did you speak up for yourself? You may not realize just how far you’ve come .
  3. Use the time to lean into meaningful friendships. Connection is healing. This is well-studied. Healthy friendships serve to add value and fulfillment to your life.
  4. Allow yourself a time of grief of the loss of your relationship but know that this time will pass. Life happens in seasons and these times don’t last.
  5. Focus on rebuilding a space that is yours and yours alone. Often, we enter into a relationship and, as 2 lives entwine, it becomes difficult to see yourself as separate from the relationship. Try to remember that you are your own vibe. I know that sounds a bit overplayed but each person brings a an energy to a scene. Remember who you are and what you contribute. I believe there is someone for everyone.

A Pray and Wait Situation

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Ive always been one to be grateful, even for the hardships because they make me appreciate the sunshine. In other words, I’m not one to easily have her joy taken from her. However, 2021 and 2022 have proven to be some of the most difficult times in my entire life. I lost my daughter to a manipulative, evil, lying (and I suspect clinically sociopathic – Ive a Master’s in nursing so trust me on this one) person who continues to make attempts at corrupting my life.

This is a test. We all know how it goes: the more you embrace God and lean into Him, the harder you live your truth and carve a life of your own, choose good, or brave the difficult but necessary choices, the more you make intentional effort at a life of peace, the harder the devil preys on you, hunts you, and stalks you. How else can a warrior stay primed and ready for battle, except but to be challenged and put to the test? It becomes a battle of inner strength, grit, and perseverance. My specialties.

This person may have won the fight for now, while my daughter is young and inexperienced, but the battle rages on. And I’m here for it. You see, I have a weapon that is absolutely and unequivocally unbeatable; one that he (or anyone else, for that matter) can never posses: love. I am my daughter’s only mother and the love I have for her is unmatched. Therefore, I’ve won the battle already. It’s a pray and wait situation.

I brought this matter to God last year. He knows what’s up. It took my inept, imperfect little heart and mind to get here, but I finally realized that this is most definitely a pray and wait sort of thing. I can only control myself, not others. I can only make decisions for me. The turmoil I was in from being estranged from my daughter- I handed it over to Him. I’m too weak to bear it. It brings me peace to pray and wait. Hope.

My daughter disappeared 1 day after her 18th birthday March 11, 2022. A mother’s nightmare come true, it was. I prayed. I waited. She resurfaced after several days, on a Saturday. I left my 10 hour shift at the hospital to go see her at her dad’s house. He called the police because she was angry with me. Decisions made from evil intentions. Pray and wait.

I wasn’t allowed to see her at her HS graduation (except from a far corner of the coliseum). My father later gave her the gifts, money and card I wrote to her. (No response) Nevertheless, I found joy in knowing that I prepared her well for that day and the days to follow, academically and socially. I was beyond proud of her and I made that known in the card written to her. It really gives me peace that she knows I am here for her when she is ready. She needs only to reach out. Always, Im praying, waiting.

I never imagined that I’d be estranged from someone I’ve loved so much for so long. I’ve invested my life in her and the evil that has happened to our family is something unfathomable. Even my own mom has bent to the whims of a disgruntled teen. Family doesn’t always mean loyalty nor does it’s members always have the capability to stand up for good. I pray. I wait. I forgive. I myself am weak at times.

My strength and love go beyond what ever relationship my daughter has with anyone else. I don’t care that she doesn’t contact me on Mother’s Day or my birthday. My heart is filled with love for her now, no different than when I held her in my arms or when she was 9 and left me a “you’re the best mom ever. You’re a pink starburst” note on my computer keyboard. Consistent praying. Patient waiting.

My daughter has started college and is working full time. I hear she’s doing well in both school and her job and that gives me great comfort! I continue to pay for half of her college books and fees (she received a scholarship for tuition). That gives me joy as well. My cup is as full as I allow myself to see it. My heart is bursting with hope!

The past 18 months have been rich with growth for me. Protect your peace. Focus on what you can control . It’s ok to set boundaries, even with family members. Don’t rely on others for validation. I know the dedication I’ve shown as a mother all of my daughter’s life. I was there 100%. That’s all the validation I need. Most of all, if you find yourself in a hopeless situation, give it over to a power greater than yourself. Accept that situations evolve and that you are not in control of the timeline. Be the best version of yourself, live unapologetically and, most importantly, PRAY and WAIT.

Dear Children….. Letters I wrote but never sent

Melanie 1 Comment

When my children were ages 10 and 8, and we were in the throes of elementary school and extracurricular activities, I wrote them each a letter. I found them, recently, as I was flipping through an old journal that I kept during those busy years. I remembered the context and why I wrote them. The letters brought back those days mixed with the excitement of discovery of new things and the frustration of juggling schedules. It was a time of rapid growth and learning- for us all. Even as it caused me stress, I recognized the lessons being taught and, hopefully, the characters being built. The letters served, for me, as a bittersweet reminder to myself, that these crazy days of piles of homework and late nights at cheer, dinners in the car and staying off “red” at school, would one day end and peace would be restored to our lives. They were a form of motherly expression, a means to find perspective in the midst of a chaos that so many moms find themselves in. This little snapshot of my life as a mom of 2 and the advice offered herein has relevance for me, even today. It did me good to read these. I’d forgotten some really important things and here, I was reminded. Of note, these were written on my 37th birthday, September 4, 2014.

Dear brave, detailed Gia,

I saw you working so diligently on your human body circulatory system. You asked me over and over what colors to paint which blood vessels – veins and arteries- there was no distinction offered in the assignment. Your attention to detail – well, it’s just amazing! It’s this attention to detail (and the textbook artist’s lack there-of) that caused you such frustration.

My intelligent and creative girl- don’t allow something like that to cause you such worry. To be sure, details are important, but think carefully about spending your emotional energy on details that don’t matter. Do the best with what you’ve got and move on! Focus on the details that give meaning to your life, beautiful child, and let the rest go. I love you always, Gia.

Mom

Dear Jack- my strong, courageous Jack,

I see how hard you try to do everything so right and so perfect for everyone.Your parents, teachers, coaches, instructors- we all know that you give your best. And we LOVE that about you! It is this energy, this desire to be your best, that makes you unique. Every letter you practiced writing in kindergarten had to be perfect, or you would erase and begin again, even to the point of erasing a hole right through the paper! That focus and patience shows that you care about the work you do and this characteristic will serve you well throughout your life. Indeed, it has already paid off- your handwriting is exceptionally neat, especially for a 3rd grader!

Your standards are high and you are unwilling to settle for anything less than excellent. Your mistakes frustrate you. But I must tell you, intelligent, determined boy, that it’s ok to mess up sometimes. In fact, I love your mistakes! Mistakes mean that you are growing. It’s how we ALL learn and everyone makes them. Mistakes don’t make you a bad person. They shape you into a better person. It means you were brave enough to try and that you are smart enough to know what to do differently next time. I love you always, Jack.

Mom

We should all focus on the details that give meaning to our lives and not sweat the small stuff, so to speak. We could do with the reminder to view mistakes as opportunities for growth and improvement. I wouldn’t trade that season of motherhood for all the money in the world. We (both the kids and I) learned some valuable lessons during those days. And I’d like to think we’re all the wiser and better for it.

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Dream a lil dream…

Melanie Leave a comment

7.27.22. I dreamed about her again last night. It happens every couple of weeks. She’s always in my thoughts, of course. Not one day passes when I don’t wonder how her life is going. I mean, really going. All the day-to-day events that weave into the fabric of a person’s story, that’s what I miss. It’s not my choice that Im no longer privy to her time and energy. Ive made so many attempts to reconnect. One day, she will recognize that my love is unconditional, that the circumstances which brought us to this place were beyond my control, and that sacrifices, like love, comes in many forms.

The dreams- I hardly dream at all- but the ones in which she is a part- they seem to last all night and they’re all the same: a crowd of unrecognizable people. I search them, one by one, peering into the faces, looking for hers, in the hopes of catching a glimpse.

I miss her face. Ive memorized it, long ago. I know every freckle. On a “good” night, Im successful. I find her and it’s a hit of dopamine to the brain. I wake up and my heart is full.

Last night’s dream was slightly different. The crowd was dispersed throughout a cemetery. I wandered through the sea of people, searching faces for hers. No luck. I began to search the graves, checking the names on the headstones, searching, searching for any tangible proof of her existence- anything at all.

Even as I dreamed it, the analogy was quite obvious: Im in mourning. I feel her absence always and it often leaves me despondent, anxious that time is slipping away from us. It’s dramatic, I realize, but we all cope differently. Each of my days is colored with her absence, my loss. I sit in my pain with hopes that time and maturity will return her to me.

Until then, I dream. And, sometimes, the dreams prove good. Happiness takes many forms and each day we’re challenged to take the lemons life hands us and make them into something a little more palatable.

A wise friend once told me, after a huge blow-up (among many) between me and an ex-boyfriend, “if you cannot respect each other and the boundaries you set, you may not need to be together.” At that time (just over 2 years ago), I was not in a place to receive that little nugget of wisdom. After feeling a failure at marriage, I’d found someone who accepted the parts of me that my ex-husband couldn’t, so I was holding tight to a relationship that, in itself was very toxic. Emotionally, I was very immature, in regards to relationships. It would take another year and a half and an even bigger argument (this time involving Rankin County Sherrif’s Office deputies), for me to actually leave that situation.

Upon reflection of that relationship, which left me confused and mistrustful of my own sound judgement in choosing partners, I realized that I allowed myself to compromise in areas of the relationship, in hopes that the good parts of it would somehow compensate for the bad. That simply didn’t work. Boundaries, basic compassion and respect, as well as open and safe communication were missing – on both sides. Every fight taught me a little more (mostly what NOT to do). With each brutal altercation the relationship began to wither – at least from my end. I quickly learned that for it to survive, we needed to understand and honor each others’ needs, adhere to agreed upon boundaries, and show compassion to each other on the most basic level. Unfortunately, my partner, despite my efforts to convey this new-found and hard-gained knowledge to him, was not capable of rising to that level of emotional intelligence, that I’d so rapidly and chaotically had to attain.

My only advice in the arena of relationships is this: pay kind attention. Learn to read and understand people, especially your partner. Honor boundaries. Communicate clearly and allow your partner to feel safe in openly communicating with you. Be as compassionate and respectful as possible, especially when angry. If your partner cannot do the same, chances are, he or she is not able to grow with you, and stagnation is fatal to a relationship.

Ive struggled the most with anger. Typically, when I’d feel hurt or wronged by someone, my first move was plunge the knife straight to the jugular, without restraint, my only goal to inflict 10x the amount of pain and emotional anguish on him, as what I’d felt. I never paused and considered the costs of such an approach. These days, I do. Contrary to the “sticks and stones” school of thought in regards to words, things spoken in anger CAN really cut deep, impact a relationship in ways that forever change it. Irreparable damage can be done. One fight may not cause an end, but many, over time and fueled with intentions to cause pain (instead of resolution and repair), can cause a relationship to die a slow death.

Accept and attempt to understand yourself so that you know what you will accept in a relationship and from a partner. Be honest and kind to yourself and your other. Love always wins.

Death By a Thousand Cuts…relationship advice from someone great at failing

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A Measure of Greatness

Melanie 2 Comments

[revised 4/2022]

C29DF9E8-557E-41E8-93EA-E768B320FAE5_1_201_a The weekend could not have been better:  weather a perfectly breezy 80 degrees, most of Saturday spent at the ball fields watching the Astros play 10 year old AAA, sleeping in Sunday.   I had my favorite coffee in my favorite mug and was about to get ready to church with the family and, since it was the Lenten season, chances were high that we would sing “On Eagle’s Wings,” one of my absolute favorite hymms!  I guess it could be said that I was officially “all tha way up!”

My life “couldnt be better” and “wow, Im so happy and blessed” ran through my head that Sunday morning.   I picked up my phone and watched (for the 20th time) the video clip I had taken the day before of Jack making a double play.  I loved watching him!  It didnt matter at all that the Astros had lost both games on Saturday.  Watching them play their passion- it was beautiful!  I got those same “feels” watching Gia tumble and stunt or seeing my taekwondo instructors demonstrate and compete.  All I can do is stare in awe at the beauty that is their calling.

This morning, images of baseball and memories of a very special patient were mixing around in my head.   My heart took a heavy thump.  My gosh, that smile!  I pictured him in a baseball uniform, cracking a ball, then running the bases wildly- all the things he might have done, things that his parents probably hoped and imagined for him but would never be.  I thought about his dad.  He was super athletic.  He would have been great at any sport, no doubt.  I stood at my kitchen sink, tears springing to my eyes, then running down my face.  The emotions hit me unexpectedly.  Some patients leave more of an impression than others.  Some become part of the fabric of our lives and instill themselves in our memories and hearts and never let go.  This was one of those.

I thought about my patient’s mom and how painful it must be to watch other people’s children thrive, while she was without.    I thought about when **he first started smiling, before he became really sick, how hopeful I was that day- literally high with joy -as he moved his arms and legs busily, eyes focused intensely on me in that way healthy babies do when they begin to notice faces.  I thought back to every moment I could remember taking care of him- searching for what could have been different or how we, as a NICU team , could have done more.  Where exactly did it go wrong?  Why did it have to be him, of all patients?  And what about all of those prayers I’d prayed?  Why? Why? I thought about the unfairness of it all.

Anger, hurt, and anxiety welled up with the tears and I succumbed – even though I had already cried over the loss of him, needed to be getting ready for church and risked questioning from the kids as to why I was crying.  It’s best to just work through the emotions, Ive learned.   I allowed the tears and thoughts to flow, reaching a crescendo, when, out of the blue (like alot of my thoughts) it came:  ” greatness lies in your service to others.”

Me: “Okaaaayyyy.”

(Sometimes I picture God sighing and shaking His head at me.)

I had read something similar in Luke, just last week.  The disciples were arguing about who would be the greatest in the kingdom and Jesus shushed their fussing, saying, “Your care for others is the measure of your greatness.”

My next thoughts:  Its not for you to understand.  Be still and recognize the greatness that is happening because of your little patients.  More than you know, even.

I thought about his mom,  involved in patient care improvement at the children’s hospital, about the money donated to Blair E Batson Children’s Hospital, all given with love and for the purpose of helping others.  Indeed, my baby, through his family,  is doing great things.

As time goes on, those memories of him,  sick and struggling to breathe, his body a prison, his bed a jungle of machines and IV poles-a testament to the severity of his illness- are fewer and farther between.  In those last weeks, for me, caring for him was much like being a plate spinner in the circus.  Everyday, I feared one of those plates would drop, and the entire act come crashing down into a million pieces.   More often, though, Im remembering the good moments with him- his smile when his dad played and visited him, his mom dressing him in one of his adorable outfits,  his face alert, eyes bright, lips pursed as if he were on the verge of speaking.  I remember those times the best!

His greatness and all the beautiful things his parents have done to honor him, the joy they have created through helping others shines so brightly, that the painful memories are dimmed more and more.  Ive reserved a special pace in my heart for my little guy.  I connected with him.    Because of him,  Ive laughed, loved, hoped, and hurt.  But also… Ive learned.    Ive learned that God cannot be defeated and love is powerful beyond imagination.

“Your care for others is the measure of your greatness.” Luke 9:48

Never again will I read these words without thinking about this baby and his beautiful family.  I consider it a blessing and an honor to have cared for an individual of such greatness.

**In compliance with HIPPA (Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996), all names or identifying factors of patients and their families are withheld.

Addicted to hustlin’…

Melanie Leave a comment

27E8ADCB-23DA-4A34-9229-FFF11E1BFEF0.jpegAlright,  look…… I was late for church today…….Words cannot completely describe the love I feel for my children.  My heart is full of affection when I look at them, I can’t imagine life without them.  They are my greatest achievement. I work extra shifts to give them more.  I’ve been through every phase of their lives – dirty diapers, snotty noses, tantrums in Target, Chucky Cheese birthday parties, school functions, cheer competitions, baseball tryouts, happiness, disappointment, sunshine, rain….

But for real. I own it. Church began at 11 and I rolled in at 11:09. Late…..
My mom is so precious to me !  She supports me, tells me hard truths over coffee, makes me laugh.  She gives me things she didn’t have. Raised in an orphanage, not adopted. For someone who was never given a family, she gives herself to hers in the most incredible ways!  She’s amazing.
Sooooo, straight up. 10 minutes late.  Tardy AF.   That’s me, today, walking into church.   I really enjoy seeing others happy,  content with their lives.  I love celebrating my friends’ successes, love to watch my NICU patients grow into thriving tiny humans.  I’m about some random acts of kindness and surprise pops of joy that add to someone’s life.  It’s a lot of who I am, really…..
Just late, man.  I was late. Like my keychain says, “never not late.”  I workout 3-6 days per week, and, mostly, eat “healthy “ food.  I abstain from regular excess alcohol and illicit drugs.  I try to learn new things, get quality sleep and, in general, try to be “more.”  I recognize the correlation between physical health and mental well -being.  I know that to pour into another’s cup, mine must be full.  We must take care of ourselves in order to care for others……
But, on the real, I was late to church this morning.  By almost 10 whole minutes.  That happened.  But I remember a time when I didn’t go to church at all.  It was not even given a thought, although I still sought a relationship with Jesus, so I read and prayed and learned.  Now, I do go to church more- not every day (I’m Catholic) and not even every week – but more.  I still pray and read and learn.  There remains in me, probably just like you, a desire to understand oneself and the One who created this “mess,” this me.
So if I offended you this morning, as I walked in late for church, I’m NOT sorry.  When you looked at me, in all my tardiness, if you labeled me with a negative or made assumptions about my life and/or character or even mustered the effort to become annoyed……I DONT apologize. We’re all in this together, seeking connection, trying to be better, failing, then trying again…..being human.  I’ve no shame for lacking punctuality today.
“Ain’t nothin’ in this  m*^#%rf$^*%#in’ world free…..
Youll never here me complain ‘bout what I ain’t got… Cuz if I want it, imma go get it…
You keep it real with your dawg, no matter what…
Out here in these streets it ain’t no such thing as love…
Only thing I trust is this pistol and these slugs…”
(Preach, Young Dolph)
I got what I came for.

Are you a cool mom? If so, read this. This is for the cool moms.

Melanie 2 Comments

 

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Apparently, a mom’s coolness is directly related to the age of her children. The minute Gia turned 12 and a half years old, my status changed.   Suddenly,  my normal use of words and phrases like “IG” (instead of Instagram) or “you feel me” when I’m trying to emphasize the importance of wearing underwear and brushing teeth to Jack are, according to Gia, my attempts to “be cool.”

That couldn’t be further from the truth.  I’m a mom, just trying to survive in the jungle of elementary and middle schools, extracurricular activities, work, household, marriage…. life, really.

Awhile back, someone posted a “share this” type of FB post and tagged what was described as “all the cooler moms.”   I was not  included.  I’ll admit, it stung a little.  Okay, well, more than a little.   Just because I love coffee and active wear and singing rap lyrics that have no application to my daily life, doesnt make me uncool, does it?? Ha!

I made myself step back, consider the source, told myself to settle down. The thing is, ever since I had kids, I keep waiting for “it” to happen.  You know, that moment you cross over,  enter the uncool stratosphere.   There’s no recovering from that.   I don’t know why this even bothered me, except that I feared waking up, looking in the mirror one day and seeing some stranger in mom pants and clothes 3 years past their style prime staring back at me.

The truth is, anyone who is not a female and does not have children of one’s own,  cannot possibly have an inkling of what it’s like to be a mom in the most real form of the word, and therefore (I decided), has a skewed opinion of what a “cool mom” is and holds no merit with me. When he climbs into stirrups to have internal organs manipulated once yearly in the name of  cervical health, I’ll listen.  Not his fault, but still… no clue.  This is what I told myself to feel better.  Coping mechanism.  To be fair, I realize that gender is not a choice.  In my opinion, though, we should all try to understand the different challenges each face.

Moving on, I decided that it was unfortunate for anyone go through life without the experience of waiting  in the middle school car rider line for the 13  year old with the 10-year-old in the car trying to “hold it” and yelling that he’s in a “9 line bind” due to a sudden onset of diarrhea, which, I suspect, was perpetrated by those hot Cheetos I warned him not to eat.  The mad dash down Lakeland Drive to the closest gas station was an intense experience alone, thanks to the never-ending construction and stop lights every 500 feet.  And wouldn’t you know-  we caught ALL the red that day.  Experiences like this are what moms DO.  This is what our lives are about – crazy, disastrous happenings, interspersed with sweet moments that we cling to because those are the reasons we love our children so much.  We’re in constant pursuit of those pretty mom moments!

But, back to the point of this post. Moms often deserve more credit than they actually get.  I know mine certainly does.   Moms do so much “behind the scenes” type stuff.  Moms are incredible at making things happen.  We plan, organize, network, carpool, purchase, workout, facilitate, negotiate, coordinate, photograph, post, glorify, maintain, sustain, care.   I dare say, moms could rule the world! If you’re a mom, doing any of the above listed things, youre pretty cool, IMO, so go on and brush ya shoulders off.  (See how I just flexed my coolness with that abbreviation? haha).

Today, my wish is that the ratio of sweet moments to potential annihilation is 2:1 for all moms.  I hope that everyone sees the value in their mom as well and shows that love and appreciation in the form of a hug, a phone call, maybe coffee or even a trip to Target.  Take time to appreciate the time you have with your children and your mom- and make the most of those “sweet” moments.

Photo creds:  myself

*Yes – Im a photographer also- it’s part of the mom qualification process.  The title of the featured piece is “Naked Freezer Burned Great Value Brand Waffles Surprise Find.”  No one will claim responsibility but I highly suspect the 10 year old, given his history.

 

Before you judge me, make sure you’re perfect

Melanie 9 Comments

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When Gia was born, I envisioned myself being the perfect mom to my daughter.   I would be kind, understanding and communicative at all the right times.  The terrible 2’s would not rattle me,  the years following would be a breeze.  I’d fill her full of life’s best advice while she listened eagerly as we snacked on fresh lemonade and home made cinnamon rolls whilst wearing matching pajamas (even though it’s not Christmas).     It was difficult to imagine that the child I loved so fiercely could ever show anything other than the same love and appreciation for me, her mom.  I had all the confidence in the world that my steadfast self control coupled with knowledge and razor sharp mommy skills would see me through any obstacle.  I was meant to be a mommy.  God’s plan, it was.

I planned to teach my daughter everything I knew- then more.   She would be like me, but with lots more of the good stuff.  Stronger.  More intelligent.  More beautiful.  Taller. More athletic.  Godly. Successful.  More well-rounded.  Just more.  I prayed for it.  I worked for it, too.  I read books.   And then one day, my taller (than me), more beautiful, athletic, Godly, intelligent daughter turned 12.

I had began to notice some moodiness, some borderline back -talk recently but I felt I was doing well, keeping my composure during these times,  reminding myself that she is under the influence of pre-teen hormones.  I met each push for independence , every challenge of my authority with what I hoped was firmness, understanding, and compromise.   That’s when “it” happened-  what’s known now in our family as “that day mom went Pootie Tang at the ballfield”.

“Everyone Has a Plan Until He Gets Punched in the Face”

It was a series of unfortunate events.   We were midway through a hot, 12 hour day of select ball.  Even for an energetic 9 y/o boy (Jack,  Gia’s brother) that’s a long day.  There had been multiple game time changes, losses, and a close friend’s gender reveal party that we were surely going to miss.  I had computer work I needed to do but no wi-fi at the complex, and despite the cooler full of healthy, money-saving snacks I had taken my personal time to prepare, I’d still shelled out $20 on concessions and the day wasn’t even over.  It didn’t help matters that I had just began cutting my calories in an attempt to drop some body fat. (At this point, you may need to refer to the title of this blog post.)

Gia had been verbally testing limits all morning so it should have come as no surprise that it would only get worse.  Perseverance is her strong suit and she is my daughter, after all.

Crazy that an Orange Crush Twizzler would spark such remarkable events, but such is life.  Gia had asked to try one, took one minuscule lick, then declared its disgustingness loudly.  She moved toward the trash can, ranting about how awful it was, which she couldn’t possibly know since, her tongue just only grazed the air above the Twizzler.  It was complete insanity!

Me: “Wait!  Don’t throw that away!  That’s wasteful.  I’ll save it for your brother, and, besides, I’d like a bite.”

What happened next can only be described as epic defiance in its rawest form.   Taking the Twizzler between thumb and middle finger and looking me right in the eye – DEAD IN THE EYE- Gia licked that Orange Crush Twizzler from one end to the other, and with one smooth flick of her wrist, plopped it into the trash can.  It was a performance worthy of at least an Emmy nomination.  I stood there, mouth gaped open, simultaneously appalled and impressed by her brazenness, while all the pretty thoughts of motherhood left me.

I heard and felt the rush of blood to my head, neck, then ears, felt the climb of color as it made its assent to my face.   I then had an out-of-body experience.  I felt my right arm snap out in a movement toward the bag of sunflower seeds Gia grasped in her left hand.   It was immediate, no deliberate thought involved, a grabbing reflex.  I watched the bag fly out of her hand, nail one of Jack’s coaches (also a friend of ours) perfectly center in he chest.  I saw eyes grow big,  Gia’s jaw drop, and heard my husband say, “Walk away, Gia.  Just walk away right now.  Give mom some space.”

Peace Like a River

I stood there, a bizarre peace about me.  Once the anger found its expression, it dissipated.  I then heard clapping behind me.   It was my husband.  I awaited the reprimand that likely deserved for losing self control over an Orange Crush twizzler.  Instead, he said, “Well, that needed to happen about 3 days ago.”

Faith Over Fear

Gia’s attitude improved remarkably after that- for a little while.  As common with children, there are easy times and difficult ones.  We were in a difficult time that day. Gia is a blessing of a daughter -exactly the “more” that I prayed for.  I was never promised (nor did I ask for) “easy.”

I think Gia and I both learned something that day at the baseball field.   I was reminded of my purpose.  See, Gia is trying to find her place in this world, just like all of us.   God entrusted me to be her guide. My job is to give her a safe place to test limits.  It’s also my job to set and teach her about boundaries.  My calling for my daughter is not friendship, which I see so many moms strive for with their daughters these days.  My purpose is to provide Gia with my presence,support, food, water, shelter and love.  Most importantly, I’m called to show her faith- in God and in her.     So, as we brave the upcoming “tween” years and beyond, I am holding fast to this prayer: “Lord, into your hands, I commend my spirit.”