Monday, July 8

Sharing is Caring v.13


  • "What we seek we will find..." Yes. Exactly. I've also been working on the realization that, typically, the faults you find in others are the faults you see within yourself, but usually don't want to admit. Kind of hand-in-hand game changers, at least for me. Another Momastry piece has gone viral. And with good reason. Quit Pointing Your Avocado at Me is a good reminder that mompetition is something that only exists if we let it. And we shouldn't let it. There are times I've felt judged by other mothers. And I think, "They don't know that my husband has been out of town for 13 days and I've had no help from anyone, no breaks until they go to bed. They don't know that my children have been monsters today and that I am stressed to the max. That we are all sick of each other, in need of a break from each other and that we all miss Dad dearly." They don't know my life. Our life. And I don't know theirs. So I have NO business judging them. 

  • I don't have a relationship with either of my parents. Neither does Ryan. I often wonder what will happen as our estranged parents age. Or if they get sick. I've also struggled with that whole 'forgiveness' and 'closure' thing. This article on Slate hit home with me. I disagree with the way forgiveness is touted these days. As if it's the only way to move forward. However, "After all, many adult children of abusers have never heard a word of regret from their parent or parents. People who have the capacity to ruthlessly maltreat their children tend toward self-justification, not shame." It's nice to read a different opinion. To know others are struggling with similar issues. And to hear that forgiveness isn't the only way to move on.

  • We did the family thing on Canada Day, spending the day with good friends in the sunshine. Being up at 5 am and being out in the scorching heat all day took it's toll on Graysen and, by mid-afternoon, a nap was needed. Ryan got Graysen to sleep and then we did the hand off. I took G-Dude and popped a squat under the shade of a tree. Whenever moments like this happen, I always take a breath and inhale deeply the indescribable feeling of holding my son like this. I kiss him, I squeeze him a little tighter, I breath him in. I close my eyes and think about how lucky I am. How much I heart-achingly love him. Both of them. And then I grab my phone to entertain myself while I enjoy the snuggles. On this particular snuggle session, I checked Facebook first. I was linked to this. And then I cried. For the boy, not his parents. I held my sleeping son and held back tears as much as I could. 

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