Since Natalia is an only child, I get to go overboard with my planning and enthusiasm regarding all things Natalia. I am more of an idea girl than an action girl, so I sometimes get overwhelmed with getting it all together, but it always works out and Natalia is heavy with the praises that I am "the best mom ever". That's kind of the point - I want her to be wow'd by her childhood. Jeremy thinks I am slightly nutty, but I know he is wow'd too.
This week Natalia's first grade class had their Spring Musical. It's kind of lame because they just stand on bleachers singing a couple of songs. Of course, I would never voice that to Natalia. To her it was like I had just watched Les Miserable. I seriously expected the kind of musicals that you see on TV or read about in her children's books where there are costumes, acting parts and glitter, all preformed on a stage with good lighting. Then I woke up and realized my kid goes to public school where underachievement breeds like promiscuous bunnies. She had been practicing the songs for months now and did a fabulous job. She even sold daddy on the fact that she needed a new dress just for the occasion (that's my girl). Jeremy is learning that we girls need a new dress or pair of shoes to attend the opening of an envelope. After her "performance" I handed her three roses wrapped in paper and tied with a ribbon. She felt so special.
Her birthday is where I really get to go crazy. Being the idea girl I am, I love the planning and themes. Her fourth birthday party was "The Crafty Party" where kids decorated their own birthday cupcakes and picture frames. This was a brilliant party because the kids were entertained by their own goodie bag gifts and I didn't have to buy or decorate a cake. I had Jeremy (the designated photo guy) take each kid's picture, print it out, then put it in the photo frame for them to take home that day.
Then there was the Alice Tea Party where I had the house decked out with card guardsmen I made out of poster board and construction paper, paper roses (some red, some white, some in between) tucked in our silk trees, a camping canopy with paper lanterns hanging from it set up in my dining area, tea service and little flower pots the kids painted and I put a fully bloomed pansy in each one to take home. I, of course, got to be the Queen of Hearts and made all the kids call me "Your Majesty", while Jeremy was the Mad Hatter and wore a hat I made him. It was hilarious. There were 13 kids at this party - it was a bit much.
Last year was Rock Band where the kids came dressed up all punk, the house was decorated in posters and glitter and we had a balloon/magician guy just for good measure. I wore my favorite Jem and the Holograms pink wig and rocked out with the kids since they all get shy on the mic. See! Overboard and fabulous.
This year was my favorite. It was a makeover madness with a team of glam fairies (thanks friends), personalized smocks (made from pillowcases and glued on ribbon trimmings), mani/pedi's with flower filled foot soaking tubs, hair, and makeup. The girls got to chat, drink out of plastic wine glasses, and get pampered for three hours. Thank goodness there was a limit placed on the invitees. Five girls was a handful even when the girl to adult ratio was 1:1.
With every birthday there is a slide show that we put together full of pictures from the past year. It's my favorite part of the year. My thought is this: If I host a fabulous party, you owe me 15 minutes of your life watching pictures of my little boogerface. The slide shows are getting longer every year. I gloat a little inside when the moms tell me how much fun their girls had and how they want a birthday party just like Natalia's. Yes! Even the thank you cards were cool: picture flip books of the party for each girl to remember it all.
I don't just go all out for birthdays and recitals. There are a lot of ways for me to amp things up. Going out as a family becomes "Family Date Night" where we all dress up in our fancy gear to go to a ballet or out to a nice restaurant. This usually involves a princess dress, lip gloss and possibly a new pair of shoes. For our Disneyland trips I have my friend pose as one of the Disney Princesses and call Natalia a couple days before our trip to tell her how excited she is to meet Natalia. Lunch box sandwiches get cut into flower shapes (thank goodness she usually eats hot lunch) and the oranges get faces drawn on the peel. Anything she has to take to school or daycare gets her name on it with glitter paint and a heart to dot the "i". I love it.
Our new mommy/daughter activity is painting. Since I am an undercover artist, I have some of the coolest art toys - special paper; artist quality brushes; oil, acrylic and watercolors; and a myriad of different pencils. We head to the park, lay out a blanket and listen to Tchaikovsky for hours while we paint and chat. Sure she has kid-safe, non-toxic watercolors and markers in her playroom, but it is the mommy stuff that makes it so special. Well, that and the actual mommy.
So far I know she isn't spoiled because there is no sense of entitlement. That is when I'll have to lay off bedazzling her life. So far, so good. It's fun and exciting to show her how special I think she is and it is never a burden. Will I be throwing her a Super Sweet Sixteen where Cee-Lo sings to her onstage at a security filled, invitation only party topped off with a Hummer for her to drive off in? NO. Even if I lived in the land of limitless funds I wouldn't do that. That's just dumb parenting. What I do hope is to fill her mind with the knowledge that I love her, cherish her and hopefully she will pay it forward to her kids someday. My next planning venture involves a vacation with two formal nights AND Disney Princesses. Jeremy - we're gonna need new shoes and dresses!
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
It's the Smell, Mr Anderson
The other night Natalia woke up with foot pain. She does this a lot, and it makes sense that your bones would hurt when you literally grow two inches a year. Also, I just bought her new shoes a week ago and I have a "fish bowl theory" about this: just like if you put a gold fish in a bigger bowl, he will get bigger; so do Natalia's feet when I buy her bigger shoes. So, I gave her some Motrin and layed down with her in her bed to massage her feet so she could go back to sleep. I don't know why, but she is a sweaty sleeper once she falls into that wonderfully deep sleep that can withstand all sorts of noise. This inculdes the "mommy finishing the dinner dishes in my best Christina Aguilera impersonation" kind of noise. You just can't sing that stuff softly - you gotta belt it out. Any-who, back to the point. When she sweats, she smells. It is that sweet smell that is so very Natalia. I can't tell you what it smells like other than it smells like her. I love it.
Ever since she was four months old, I have been pulling 12 hour shifts as a nurse. Jeremy's parents are unreal and have lovingly, willingly, and indulgently taken care of Natalia while he and I worked so we could have family time on our days off. I have learned to be okay with not seeing her for 3 days out of the week, but oh how I miss her when she is gone. I often go into her room, find her security "pinky" blanket and bury my face in it because it smells like her. My cup runneth over.
Now as wonderful as that sounds, she is seven and doesn't always smell like my sweet little girl. Sometimes she smells downright funky. That's easy enough to fix and she transforms again into my non-funky child with a hint of Pantene. Shower hour is always before bed, so I get to snuggle with her for 20 minutes and just enjoy holding her, talking to her, and trying to memorize the way she smells.
If I had to give up any of my senses it would be taste. Maybe that would cure my addiction to cinnamon/sugar pie crust (just the crust) and nachos. The rest I need in order to imprint Natalia on my heart. My sight to watch her grow and change; my touch to hug and hold her; my ears to hear her songs and all the funny, inspiring, and magical things she says; and my sense of smell. There are no words to describe it, but it is something very tangible to me, with my favorite being the "sweet with a touch of Pantene".
Ever since she was four months old, I have been pulling 12 hour shifts as a nurse. Jeremy's parents are unreal and have lovingly, willingly, and indulgently taken care of Natalia while he and I worked so we could have family time on our days off. I have learned to be okay with not seeing her for 3 days out of the week, but oh how I miss her when she is gone. I often go into her room, find her security "pinky" blanket and bury my face in it because it smells like her. My cup runneth over.
Now as wonderful as that sounds, she is seven and doesn't always smell like my sweet little girl. Sometimes she smells downright funky. That's easy enough to fix and she transforms again into my non-funky child with a hint of Pantene. Shower hour is always before bed, so I get to snuggle with her for 20 minutes and just enjoy holding her, talking to her, and trying to memorize the way she smells.
If I had to give up any of my senses it would be taste. Maybe that would cure my addiction to cinnamon/sugar pie crust (just the crust) and nachos. The rest I need in order to imprint Natalia on my heart. My sight to watch her grow and change; my touch to hug and hold her; my ears to hear her songs and all the funny, inspiring, and magical things she says; and my sense of smell. There are no words to describe it, but it is something very tangible to me, with my favorite being the "sweet with a touch of Pantene".
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
In the Beginning.....
I had a couple of agendas in mind when I started writing this blog. It is a brag board, a diary, a release, and a story for Natalia to take with her when she has her own children someday. Eventually I will have these printed into a book for her. Being the egocentric humans that we naturally are, I know she will love reading about herself and her family.
It is with this understanding that I am writing the story of how Jeremy and I met and fell in love. This is my own personal fairy tale. I have a piece of wall art in our kitchen that I bought when the three of us finally moved out to Boise and moved into our first house. It reads "All because two people fell in love". My family is my heart and it all started with Jeremy and a list.
When I was in middle school my mother married a man she met at church who came from "a good church family". He ended up being an alcoholic heroine addict who hit her and screamed at all of us. On a funny note, because of his excessive drug use he had lost all of his teeth and had dentures. Whenever he would yell at me they would kind of pop out of his mouth. It was really funny to watch. He was such a ridiculous person. Because of him being such a tool, I decided to make a list when I was about 15 of the kind of attributes I wanted for a husband. I can't remember all of them, but some of them were: Able to pick me up (check), a believer in God (working on it), doesn't hit (check), doesn't yell at me or call me names (check), has a job (check). There were others, but these are some of the highlights. It was only living through what I knew I didn't want that I received the clarity to find what I do want. Keep this checklist in the back of your mind.
1990 was my freshman year of high school. I carried over my BFF from middle school and went over to her house to play. The easiest way to get to Andria's house was to cut through another neighborhood, which had a lot of other kids that were also in my freshman class. I met Jeremy my first week of high school. Now did I gaze into his eyes and think "Holy Cow, I'm going to marry that boy!" Of course not. It may be The South, but child brides were so passe even in the 90's. I did think he was nice and he showed some interest in me. I really loved male attention, so it didn't take a lot of chasing to reel me in. This was also helped along by my friend Hope who said "Have Jeremy walk you home". That was how we met.
We dated for a month and a half, I broke up with him because he was "too nice" (I hadn't made the list yet) and I felt a bit smothered by his affections. We stayed friends. No seriously, we really did. I would complain to him about boyfriends (I'm sure he loved that), would borrow his clothes, and when the group would hang out, it never felt weird. I always referred to him as "My Jeremy". We dated again for a whopping 24 hours. He paid for me to get into Six Flags, but by the end of the day I felt like he liked me too much and felt smothered again (where the hell is that list!). I broke up with him that night and started dating another kid the same evening via telephone. He was a sophomore and I thought I was the shizzle. In a couple weeks I broke up with him too. Jeremy was heart broken, felt totally used, and no longer wanted to have anything to do with me or my fickle friendship.
Skip ahead to our Junior year of high school. I had an English class with Jeremy and all of a sudden I saw him in a different light. As in the "OMG, what happened to him over the summer" kind of light. Jeremy was hot. Braces and all - hotness. He was still "My Jeremy", he just didn't know it yet.
By the time our Senior year of High School rolled around Jeremy was running with a different group, but he and I would still talk on the phone every once in a while. We would hang out and do things as friends, but it was just for fun. He asked me to The Nutcracker during the holidays, but it was totally a B-list kind of thing if his first date didn't work out. He knew it would hurt my feelings a bit. That was the point. By spring we had started hanging out a lot more and I finally got the courage to ask him to prom via a very courageous note I stuck in his jacket pocket at the end of our date. He purposely didn't get back with me so I had to call to get my answer. He was a very fabulous prom date and we have been an item ever since.
It was hard when I went away to college in Nashville. He asked me to stay in Georgia, but I told him this decision was made before my decision to date him. This was a big deal for me because usually I would bend my entire life to conform to whatever boyfriend I had at the moment. It was a hard year and a half, but we realized that we really loved each other and didn't want to be with anyone else. I decided after three semesters in Nashville that I would move back to Georgia where school and boarding (aka mom's house) were cheeper and finish my education there. Because I didn't have a car, Jeremy was my back and forth transport from Tennessee to Georgia and vice versa. When he came to pick me up he was acting so weird. My first thought was that he was about to break up with me since I was moving back. I kind of deserved it after how poorly I treated him in high school. Then he started into this speech about how me moving back was starting this new life and blah, blah, blah. That's when he got down on one knee in my dingy prison cell sized dorm room to ask me to marry him. I had been dropping not so subtle hints for months about wanting us to get married. Of course I said 'yes'. By this time I had gone over the checklist a hundred times in my mind. He was it. He is it. He's my perfect match.
The rest is the craziness of wedding plans, more school, more jobs, a rough-go with our marriage when we lived separately and almost called it quits, and a surprise that changed our marriage and who we are. Our little boogerface. I don't regret that rough-go at all because it made us both grow up and appreciate each other. When I was seven months pregnant with Natalia, Jeremy and I renewed our wedding vows. This time as adults who understood that "for better or for worse" was a catch all promise. I will gladly take that 10% of worse for my 90% of better. Every struggle has its place, every unanswered prayer has its purpose.
Now I get to live out my fairy tale every day. I have a husband who can pick me up physically and emotionally; he believes in God in his own way; he has never hit me, pushed me, or used intimidation; has a steady job and takes pride in supporting his family; and I can count on one hand how many times we have yelled at each other in the 17 years we have been together. I can honestly say that he is the best part of my day and will always and forever be My Jeremy.
It is with this understanding that I am writing the story of how Jeremy and I met and fell in love. This is my own personal fairy tale. I have a piece of wall art in our kitchen that I bought when the three of us finally moved out to Boise and moved into our first house. It reads "All because two people fell in love". My family is my heart and it all started with Jeremy and a list.
When I was in middle school my mother married a man she met at church who came from "a good church family". He ended up being an alcoholic heroine addict who hit her and screamed at all of us. On a funny note, because of his excessive drug use he had lost all of his teeth and had dentures. Whenever he would yell at me they would kind of pop out of his mouth. It was really funny to watch. He was such a ridiculous person. Because of him being such a tool, I decided to make a list when I was about 15 of the kind of attributes I wanted for a husband. I can't remember all of them, but some of them were: Able to pick me up (check), a believer in God (working on it), doesn't hit (check), doesn't yell at me or call me names (check), has a job (check). There were others, but these are some of the highlights. It was only living through what I knew I didn't want that I received the clarity to find what I do want. Keep this checklist in the back of your mind.
1990 was my freshman year of high school. I carried over my BFF from middle school and went over to her house to play. The easiest way to get to Andria's house was to cut through another neighborhood, which had a lot of other kids that were also in my freshman class. I met Jeremy my first week of high school. Now did I gaze into his eyes and think "Holy Cow, I'm going to marry that boy!" Of course not. It may be The South, but child brides were so passe even in the 90's. I did think he was nice and he showed some interest in me. I really loved male attention, so it didn't take a lot of chasing to reel me in. This was also helped along by my friend Hope who said "Have Jeremy walk you home". That was how we met.
We dated for a month and a half, I broke up with him because he was "too nice" (I hadn't made the list yet) and I felt a bit smothered by his affections. We stayed friends. No seriously, we really did. I would complain to him about boyfriends (I'm sure he loved that), would borrow his clothes, and when the group would hang out, it never felt weird. I always referred to him as "My Jeremy". We dated again for a whopping 24 hours. He paid for me to get into Six Flags, but by the end of the day I felt like he liked me too much and felt smothered again (where the hell is that list!). I broke up with him that night and started dating another kid the same evening via telephone. He was a sophomore and I thought I was the shizzle. In a couple weeks I broke up with him too. Jeremy was heart broken, felt totally used, and no longer wanted to have anything to do with me or my fickle friendship.
Skip ahead to our Junior year of high school. I had an English class with Jeremy and all of a sudden I saw him in a different light. As in the "OMG, what happened to him over the summer" kind of light. Jeremy was hot. Braces and all - hotness. He was still "My Jeremy", he just didn't know it yet.
By the time our Senior year of High School rolled around Jeremy was running with a different group, but he and I would still talk on the phone every once in a while. We would hang out and do things as friends, but it was just for fun. He asked me to The Nutcracker during the holidays, but it was totally a B-list kind of thing if his first date didn't work out. He knew it would hurt my feelings a bit. That was the point. By spring we had started hanging out a lot more and I finally got the courage to ask him to prom via a very courageous note I stuck in his jacket pocket at the end of our date. He purposely didn't get back with me so I had to call to get my answer. He was a very fabulous prom date and we have been an item ever since.
It was hard when I went away to college in Nashville. He asked me to stay in Georgia, but I told him this decision was made before my decision to date him. This was a big deal for me because usually I would bend my entire life to conform to whatever boyfriend I had at the moment. It was a hard year and a half, but we realized that we really loved each other and didn't want to be with anyone else. I decided after three semesters in Nashville that I would move back to Georgia where school and boarding (aka mom's house) were cheeper and finish my education there. Because I didn't have a car, Jeremy was my back and forth transport from Tennessee to Georgia and vice versa. When he came to pick me up he was acting so weird. My first thought was that he was about to break up with me since I was moving back. I kind of deserved it after how poorly I treated him in high school. Then he started into this speech about how me moving back was starting this new life and blah, blah, blah. That's when he got down on one knee in my dingy prison cell sized dorm room to ask me to marry him. I had been dropping not so subtle hints for months about wanting us to get married. Of course I said 'yes'. By this time I had gone over the checklist a hundred times in my mind. He was it. He is it. He's my perfect match.
The rest is the craziness of wedding plans, more school, more jobs, a rough-go with our marriage when we lived separately and almost called it quits, and a surprise that changed our marriage and who we are. Our little boogerface. I don't regret that rough-go at all because it made us both grow up and appreciate each other. When I was seven months pregnant with Natalia, Jeremy and I renewed our wedding vows. This time as adults who understood that "for better or for worse" was a catch all promise. I will gladly take that 10% of worse for my 90% of better. Every struggle has its place, every unanswered prayer has its purpose.
Now I get to live out my fairy tale every day. I have a husband who can pick me up physically and emotionally; he believes in God in his own way; he has never hit me, pushed me, or used intimidation; has a steady job and takes pride in supporting his family; and I can count on one hand how many times we have yelled at each other in the 17 years we have been together. I can honestly say that he is the best part of my day and will always and forever be My Jeremy.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Time-Outs For Everyone
It's no shocker that I think my daughter is exceptionally cute and funny. She imparted her seven year old wisdom on me last night while I was contributing to her nightly bedtime routine. She had thrown a very emotional tantrum that was exacerbated by me trying to talk to her. Of course, I gave up the talking part and had Jeremy get her ready for bed because I am a total coward and just couldn't effectively manage her drama for another second. This was her wisdom that she gifted me when I went to tuck her in: "Mommy, sometimes when I get mad, all I can hear is 'blah, blah, blah' and it makes me more frustrated. I need some time without any talking, but I didn't know how to say it because of you still doing the 'blah, blah, blah'." My response was "Okay, let's think of a code word for you to use so I know you need some quiet time and we'll talk again later." She came up with "Two Time", because she said she needs two minutes of silence. I am totally going to steal that idea from her because it is brilliant.
How many times in my day do I wish I could just tell someone "I need Two Time, please" so they would stop with the blah, blah, blah. I am a big fan of putting myself in time-out when I feel like I am losing my cool and about to do or say something I will regret. Granted, I don't always take this sage advice, but I try. Hey, even moms need a time-out to rethink our attitudes.
Now I would like to think that I am a more eloquent speaker than "blah, blah, blah", but then I need to consider my audience. A tired seven year old is not the ideal demographic for an inspiring lecture of the day regarding how she needs to evaluate if Shayley is really a good friend when she makes up a tattle about Natalia to tell the teacher. My goal was for her to understand that the people we surround ourselves with have a profound effect on our lives, but she was tired and getting over some sort of respiratory funk. Bottom line - she wasn't in the mood for a lecture and needed some "Two Time".
One of my (many) fears about being a good mother is that Natalia won't feel like she can confide in me and I'll get shut out of her inner Natalia. I don't want to be one of those parents who says "Not MY child! She would NEVER do that!" I see parents who are blown away by some of the things their kid does because they have lost touch with who their kid really is. I am not so delusional that I don't know nagging my child will not make her eager to open up to me about friends and drama. There will be times when she will ask for my advice and decide upon hearing it that I am a total idiot who has no clue about anything. I assume this will be when she learns to properly use mascara and no longer sings princess songs. Some of my best childhood memories are when I would sit on the end of my mom's bed and pour my heart out. She even managed to keep her cool when I told her I was thinking of doing the hippity-dippity with my boyfriend. I was 15, she laid out some good advice, I kept my 'V' card for a few more years and never regretted my choice. What is amazing is she never asked me after that what I had decided.
In the meantime, I have a few more years before the talks get that heavy. I have time to perfect my "blah, blah, blah" into something that is a little more non-naggish. Besides, if my child at seven can articulate that she needs a time-out to gather her thoughts and cool her drama, I think she's smart enough to figure some things out on her own. All moms understand the feeling of watching your child struggle while your chest tightens up and you hold your breath. It is a physical embodiment of trying to reign in all that emotion of wanting to help and fix. All she really needs is "Two Time" so she can get it together on her own.
How many times in my day do I wish I could just tell someone "I need Two Time, please" so they would stop with the blah, blah, blah. I am a big fan of putting myself in time-out when I feel like I am losing my cool and about to do or say something I will regret. Granted, I don't always take this sage advice, but I try. Hey, even moms need a time-out to rethink our attitudes.
Now I would like to think that I am a more eloquent speaker than "blah, blah, blah", but then I need to consider my audience. A tired seven year old is not the ideal demographic for an inspiring lecture of the day regarding how she needs to evaluate if Shayley is really a good friend when she makes up a tattle about Natalia to tell the teacher. My goal was for her to understand that the people we surround ourselves with have a profound effect on our lives, but she was tired and getting over some sort of respiratory funk. Bottom line - she wasn't in the mood for a lecture and needed some "Two Time".
One of my (many) fears about being a good mother is that Natalia won't feel like she can confide in me and I'll get shut out of her inner Natalia. I don't want to be one of those parents who says "Not MY child! She would NEVER do that!" I see parents who are blown away by some of the things their kid does because they have lost touch with who their kid really is. I am not so delusional that I don't know nagging my child will not make her eager to open up to me about friends and drama. There will be times when she will ask for my advice and decide upon hearing it that I am a total idiot who has no clue about anything. I assume this will be when she learns to properly use mascara and no longer sings princess songs. Some of my best childhood memories are when I would sit on the end of my mom's bed and pour my heart out. She even managed to keep her cool when I told her I was thinking of doing the hippity-dippity with my boyfriend. I was 15, she laid out some good advice, I kept my 'V' card for a few more years and never regretted my choice. What is amazing is she never asked me after that what I had decided.
In the meantime, I have a few more years before the talks get that heavy. I have time to perfect my "blah, blah, blah" into something that is a little more non-naggish. Besides, if my child at seven can articulate that she needs a time-out to gather her thoughts and cool her drama, I think she's smart enough to figure some things out on her own. All moms understand the feeling of watching your child struggle while your chest tightens up and you hold your breath. It is a physical embodiment of trying to reign in all that emotion of wanting to help and fix. All she really needs is "Two Time" so she can get it together on her own.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Who Ya Gonna Call?
This has been one of those parenting weeks when I realize I have no clue what I am supposed to be doing or how I am supposed to be reacting. Okay here is the back story and since it is my blog - it's a long story. All of my stories always are.
I am pretty sure we have a ghost in our house. Now before you start judging me as crazy-pants, let me explain why. I have seen him twice, in my room, scaring the hell out of me; and Natalia has seen him twice too. It is easy to think an adult is full of it, but Natalia holds a bit more weight since she is super cute and a horrible liar.
A little over a year ago Natalia was getting ready for kindergarten in her bathroom. Her bathroom lies between her room and another bedroom which we made into a playroom. Can you tell she is an only child? She has her own wing of the house. When I came into the bathroom from our kitchen to make sure she was actually brushing her teeth she looked at me funny and asked me if daddy had just walked by. Jeremy was sleeping in our bedroom on the other side of the house from her, and since I was in the kitchen in the middle of the house I knew he wasn't up yet. I told her 'no', then asked her 'why?'. She told me she saw a man walk from her bedroom into the playroom. I immediately got a chill. I told her it was probably Chance. Now, we have a pretty big and talented dog, but he doesn't walk on his hind legs like a circus animal. I was fetching for a good explanation. She adamantly told me it was a person - specifically a man. She also told me that sometimes she sees a person in her room who watches her when she sleeps. Creeeeeepy. I asked her if it bothers her and she told me she doesn't like it, but goes back to sleep. We had a deep, spiritual talk about how our bodies are like cars and our spirits are like the driver. When the car gets old or broken, the spirit leaves and then we don't really know for sure what happens next. She was cool with that, told me maybe it was my Grandpa Derr who she renamed Grandpa Dirt, and went to bed that night peacefully.
I have felt a couple of times since we have moved here that I am not always in the room by myself. Then I think I am just a flaky nut and need to cut back on my zombie/possession movie intake.
A month ago I decided to get off of Ambien which I had been on nightly for five years. Yes, this has a point in the story. I used melatonin to help me do this, but then realized it is a nightmare in a bottle and gave it to a friend. It gave me some crazy, vivid nightmares. I am a nightmare kind of girl though. Always have been and I really should write them down and sell them to Hollywood because there have been some pretty good ones. The point is that I know the difference between when I am in a nightmare and when I am awake. I just know. I am not caught in the Matrix, unable to differentiate my reality. That being said, I was totally willing to say I had a melatonin induced, Ambien-free nightmare when I woke up and saw the shadowy silhouette of a man standing at the foot of my bed. I screamed a bit and turned on the light. I NEVER move about in my nightmares. I may talk a lot when I am sleeping, but I am not a mover and a shaker. I had been awake.
This happened again about a week and half later, although this time I am certain I was totally awake, without a doubt. Jeremy was home that night and was in the office on the computer. He stays up late the night before he has his run of night shifts so he can jump into his four day nocturnal-ness. I woke up and saw a man standing next to his side of the bed and said "Hey sweet, what do you need?" thinking that Jeremy had come in to ask me a question. Usually these question have to do with where I hid the children's Motrin because Natalia gets a lot of leg cramps in the middle of the night. After I asked this, the man leaned closer towards me and I realized this was not Jeremy. There were no discernable features, but it was a man around six feet tall. The lean-in wasn't something menacing, but almost like he was surprised I was talking to him. Yep. Scared the crapola out of me so I bravely screamed and turned on the light. This was the same time that Jeremy was with Natalia because she had just had a nightmare. Poor Jeremy. He's trying to figure out how to console one girl, while his other girl let out a scream in the other room. I'm sure he thinks he lives in the House of Crazy, but is too loving and polite to say so.
I told him what I saw and his first response is "We don't have a ghost."
This week made me a believer. Natalia is an early riser, so our new family rule is: You can wake up early, but don't wake me up and you can't eat chips and fruit snacks for breakfast. She has always been afraid of being in any of the rooms by herself, so she has mastered the art of placing the pinch collar on the dog and corralling him wherever she needs him to be. She and Chance were in the bathroom that morning and she walked out to go into the office to play on the computer. As she was walking by the kitchen she saw a man "like daddy, but with hair wearing a brown robe" walk into the pantry and she said she could see through him. She then went into the office and layed down with the dog on his dog bed. I was wondering why she was sitting in front of my door (with the dog sporting his pinch collar) when I woke up. That just goes to show you that sleep deprived mommies are more scary than apparitions.
She told me what happened, I internally freaked out and fixed her some pancakes and finished our normal before school routine. That evening when we had a family discussion about it she said, and I quote "My imagination is really powerful, so it may have been that, but I saw him daddy. I could see him, but see through him." Like I said earlier, she's a horrible liar and is awfully analytical with her take on the situation. This big-girl response was a bit impressive to Jeremy and I.
I want to clarify that I am a spiritual kind of girl. As in biblically spiritual, not new age stuff. I am a believer in prayer, so after my creepy shadow guy and a long talk with my sister-in-law, I went through each room of the house, said a prayer and asked him to leave. I felt pretty good. Then Natalia upset my apple cart. Our mommy chair talk that night was a bit tough. She didn't want to talk about it because it scared her, then she said she thought maybe it was an angel without wings to protect us. Some of that talk was drawn from previous mommy chair discussions. I recently, in my own mind, surrendered my family to God. What that means to me is that I am going to try my darndest to give up my control freak nature and believe that someone bigger, smarter, and more powerful than my 5'3" frame has my family under control. This is testing that to the max.
I played with the idea of finding a medium to come in and maybe give me an answer of who this is, what he wants, and how to show him the exit. I ultimately decided against this path because I don't want a medium to give any other spirits the idea that this would be a cool place to hang out. I decided to go the prayer route. We have a neighbor who is ordained by his church come over and pray with us to bless our house. If I am really surrendering my family and giving up control - here is my test of faith. Nick is very nice and suggested the next time I see him I should try and ask him what he needs. I can't imagine I'll get past the screaming part.
While I do feel better after the blessing, I am still uneasy about the whole situation. My job as a mom is to practice my duck swim that I have mentioned many times before: calm on the surface even when I am paddling like hell underneath. My mom has seen ghosts before, this isn't my first rodeo with seeing one, and now Natalia sees them. I am starting to see a pattern. In my heart I know I am a reasonable and sane human being, although telling this makes me feel and sound a little crazy-pants. I refuse to give into any drama that might be absorbed by my little seven year old sponge. She has totally moved on to her next childhood drama (she is on Zachary's crush list - can you see my eyes rolling?) and doesn't seem undully scarred or scared. This blog is my way of purging the story and moving on to my next drama: Do we go with the older Disney cruise, or save money and go on a new and bigger ship without the Disney magic? Who am I kidding? I'm still freaked out.
I am pretty sure we have a ghost in our house. Now before you start judging me as crazy-pants, let me explain why. I have seen him twice, in my room, scaring the hell out of me; and Natalia has seen him twice too. It is easy to think an adult is full of it, but Natalia holds a bit more weight since she is super cute and a horrible liar.
A little over a year ago Natalia was getting ready for kindergarten in her bathroom. Her bathroom lies between her room and another bedroom which we made into a playroom. Can you tell she is an only child? She has her own wing of the house. When I came into the bathroom from our kitchen to make sure she was actually brushing her teeth she looked at me funny and asked me if daddy had just walked by. Jeremy was sleeping in our bedroom on the other side of the house from her, and since I was in the kitchen in the middle of the house I knew he wasn't up yet. I told her 'no', then asked her 'why?'. She told me she saw a man walk from her bedroom into the playroom. I immediately got a chill. I told her it was probably Chance. Now, we have a pretty big and talented dog, but he doesn't walk on his hind legs like a circus animal. I was fetching for a good explanation. She adamantly told me it was a person - specifically a man. She also told me that sometimes she sees a person in her room who watches her when she sleeps. Creeeeeepy. I asked her if it bothers her and she told me she doesn't like it, but goes back to sleep. We had a deep, spiritual talk about how our bodies are like cars and our spirits are like the driver. When the car gets old or broken, the spirit leaves and then we don't really know for sure what happens next. She was cool with that, told me maybe it was my Grandpa Derr who she renamed Grandpa Dirt, and went to bed that night peacefully.
I have felt a couple of times since we have moved here that I am not always in the room by myself. Then I think I am just a flaky nut and need to cut back on my zombie/possession movie intake.
A month ago I decided to get off of Ambien which I had been on nightly for five years. Yes, this has a point in the story. I used melatonin to help me do this, but then realized it is a nightmare in a bottle and gave it to a friend. It gave me some crazy, vivid nightmares. I am a nightmare kind of girl though. Always have been and I really should write them down and sell them to Hollywood because there have been some pretty good ones. The point is that I know the difference between when I am in a nightmare and when I am awake. I just know. I am not caught in the Matrix, unable to differentiate my reality. That being said, I was totally willing to say I had a melatonin induced, Ambien-free nightmare when I woke up and saw the shadowy silhouette of a man standing at the foot of my bed. I screamed a bit and turned on the light. I NEVER move about in my nightmares. I may talk a lot when I am sleeping, but I am not a mover and a shaker. I had been awake.
This happened again about a week and half later, although this time I am certain I was totally awake, without a doubt. Jeremy was home that night and was in the office on the computer. He stays up late the night before he has his run of night shifts so he can jump into his four day nocturnal-ness. I woke up and saw a man standing next to his side of the bed and said "Hey sweet, what do you need?" thinking that Jeremy had come in to ask me a question. Usually these question have to do with where I hid the children's Motrin because Natalia gets a lot of leg cramps in the middle of the night. After I asked this, the man leaned closer towards me and I realized this was not Jeremy. There were no discernable features, but it was a man around six feet tall. The lean-in wasn't something menacing, but almost like he was surprised I was talking to him. Yep. Scared the crapola out of me so I bravely screamed and turned on the light. This was the same time that Jeremy was with Natalia because she had just had a nightmare. Poor Jeremy. He's trying to figure out how to console one girl, while his other girl let out a scream in the other room. I'm sure he thinks he lives in the House of Crazy, but is too loving and polite to say so.
I told him what I saw and his first response is "We don't have a ghost."
This week made me a believer. Natalia is an early riser, so our new family rule is: You can wake up early, but don't wake me up and you can't eat chips and fruit snacks for breakfast. She has always been afraid of being in any of the rooms by herself, so she has mastered the art of placing the pinch collar on the dog and corralling him wherever she needs him to be. She and Chance were in the bathroom that morning and she walked out to go into the office to play on the computer. As she was walking by the kitchen she saw a man "like daddy, but with hair wearing a brown robe" walk into the pantry and she said she could see through him. She then went into the office and layed down with the dog on his dog bed. I was wondering why she was sitting in front of my door (with the dog sporting his pinch collar) when I woke up. That just goes to show you that sleep deprived mommies are more scary than apparitions.
She told me what happened, I internally freaked out and fixed her some pancakes and finished our normal before school routine. That evening when we had a family discussion about it she said, and I quote "My imagination is really powerful, so it may have been that, but I saw him daddy. I could see him, but see through him." Like I said earlier, she's a horrible liar and is awfully analytical with her take on the situation. This big-girl response was a bit impressive to Jeremy and I.
I want to clarify that I am a spiritual kind of girl. As in biblically spiritual, not new age stuff. I am a believer in prayer, so after my creepy shadow guy and a long talk with my sister-in-law, I went through each room of the house, said a prayer and asked him to leave. I felt pretty good. Then Natalia upset my apple cart. Our mommy chair talk that night was a bit tough. She didn't want to talk about it because it scared her, then she said she thought maybe it was an angel without wings to protect us. Some of that talk was drawn from previous mommy chair discussions. I recently, in my own mind, surrendered my family to God. What that means to me is that I am going to try my darndest to give up my control freak nature and believe that someone bigger, smarter, and more powerful than my 5'3" frame has my family under control. This is testing that to the max.
I played with the idea of finding a medium to come in and maybe give me an answer of who this is, what he wants, and how to show him the exit. I ultimately decided against this path because I don't want a medium to give any other spirits the idea that this would be a cool place to hang out. I decided to go the prayer route. We have a neighbor who is ordained by his church come over and pray with us to bless our house. If I am really surrendering my family and giving up control - here is my test of faith. Nick is very nice and suggested the next time I see him I should try and ask him what he needs. I can't imagine I'll get past the screaming part.
While I do feel better after the blessing, I am still uneasy about the whole situation. My job as a mom is to practice my duck swim that I have mentioned many times before: calm on the surface even when I am paddling like hell underneath. My mom has seen ghosts before, this isn't my first rodeo with seeing one, and now Natalia sees them. I am starting to see a pattern. In my heart I know I am a reasonable and sane human being, although telling this makes me feel and sound a little crazy-pants. I refuse to give into any drama that might be absorbed by my little seven year old sponge. She has totally moved on to her next childhood drama (she is on Zachary's crush list - can you see my eyes rolling?) and doesn't seem undully scarred or scared. This blog is my way of purging the story and moving on to my next drama: Do we go with the older Disney cruise, or save money and go on a new and bigger ship without the Disney magic? Who am I kidding? I'm still freaked out.
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