The Mommy in My Head

If motherhood has taught me anything, it's this. The Mommy I though I would be, the Mommy that used to live in my head when I thought about my future children, that woman is a fantasy. She doesn't exist, and I don't know if she ever could.

The Mommy in my head bakes cookies for her kids in her free time, and always has a spotless kitchen stocked with every snack a kid could want.

The Real Mommy bakes brownies to hide from the kids, if she bakes them at all. No way are they getting hopped up on sugar on my watch! The Real Mommy has a kitchen littered with toys and other detritus from our daily lives. The sink is full more often than not, and the dishwasher is always filled...mostly with clean dished that I haven't put away. And snacks? Few and far between. Most of the chips are stale, and the cookies don't hang around long enough to get stale. There are carrots and other healthy snacks in the fridge, but good luck convincing my 3 year old and 1 year old that they are, indeed, delicious. Hell, I don't even want to eat them. Maybe they should look at their father for a better example of healthy eating...

The Mommy in my head is active and healthy, running around with her kids and getting "down and dirty" right along with them. She takes them on outings, has creative projects to do with them, and never, ever uses the TV as a form of entertainment.

The Real Mommy needs to lose 50+, but can't commit to it. I swear, if I lost a pound for every time I've sworn I would lose weight, I'd be anorexic. I want to be healthier and skinny, but somewhere between the commitment and the Chik-Fil-A I lose my nerve. Hmm. As for running around and getting down and dirty, well dirty means an extra bath. And while I don't mind a good day of outdoor fun with them, the idea of advocating "dirty" activities is a no-go most days. Extra baths mean extra water all over the floor, soap in the eyes, pulled hair, and tantrums when it's time to vacate the tub. Not to mention a round of "nakey" dances while Mommy chases Babies around the bedrooms to insist that yes, dear, we need to wear clothing. Outings, well if Daddy's home, yes. But Mommy and Babies, well, lets just wait til Dad gets home. Because if we don't, someone is gonna cry. Which will just make the kids think I'm crazy and off the meds again. Creative projects? I'm lucky if I have enough creativity left in me to make something other than Beef Stroganoff for dinner. I'll let Team Oomi Zoomi and Blues Clues inspire their little minds to keep working. Thanks to Geo, Bot, and Milli, Jake can count to 10 and is learning to tell left from right. Thanks Oomi Friends!

I swore I would read to my kids every night at bedtime. Now I just can't wait for bedtime so the "Mommy Mommy Mommy" stops and I can feel guilty for previously hoping they would go to sleep so I could read or study.

The Mommy in my head kept detailed records of her children's childhood and babyhood, chronicaling their growth and development through baby books and pictures that they would cherish forever.

The Real Mommy has fallen short. Jake's Baby book was filled out for the first year or so. Makenna's made it as far as leaving the hospital to bring her home. I'm not sure that I even know where they are now. As for pictures, Jake had a dedicated picture each month for the first year. Makenna, not so much. Bad Mommy, Bad. I have pictures, just not as many as with Jake. Guess my hands are a bit too full to carry a camera now.

So what is the point of this rant? Well, I am by far NOT the Mommy in my head. I thought I would be, but then reality set in. So where does that leave me as Real Mommy??

Real Mommy would jump in front of a bus if it would save her children. Real Mommy loves them with her whole heart and soul. She is doing everything she can now to work and be productive so that they have everything they could want or need in the future. Real Mommy has learned that life is never what you thought it would be. She's not perfect. She has bad days, and good days. She feels guilty for the things she hasn't done for her kids that she wants to do, and has big plans for the future with them. Real Mommy loves Real Daddy more than (almost) anything in the world, and hopes that Babies find someone to share their life with when they get older, so they can experience what she feels for Real Daddy.

Real Mommy may not compare to The Mommy in my Head, but you know what? So far, she isn't perfect, but her kids are happy and healthy. They love their families, and they love each other. They are hitting all their milestones, and the are growing and learning every day. They have warm beds to sleep in, they get kisses and hugs all day every day. They hear Mommy and Daddy tell them they love them at least 10 times a day, and the last thing they hear from Mommy when she leaves or when they go to bed is "I love you." They are smart, happy, healthy, and most of all, loved. And that's what really matters.

They may not have the Mommy in my Head, but they have me. And there's no one on this earth who will love them more.

My Granny

I'm not the first person in the world to lose someone. I know that. But to those of you who haven't, there is nothing easy about saying goodbye to someone who's always been there. And to those of you who know what I am going through, I ask, "Does the hurt ever go away?"

I lost my Granny, Margaret Shown, on October 19, 2011. She was diagnosed with what we'll call a bad heart in September of 2010, not long after Makenna was born. In fact, this is a picture of her with Makenna when we took Makenna to the hospital before Granny's Cardiac Catheterization procedure, which would be the procedure that told us her heart was in trouble.

We weren't always close, but in the last few years of her life, we became closer than we had been. Especially when I had my children. It was amazing to see her with my babies. How many children have the chance to know their great grandparents? I don't remember mine. And that kills me, that my children will only have pictures to remember her by.

I feel like crying writing this. I know there are other loses that are more profound. Some I don't even want to think about. That doesn't make the hurt less. She was with me for 27 years, and there is a massive hole in my heart without her. She loved me, of that I have no doubt. I just wish I knew for certain that I let her know how very much I loved her. I feel like there were so many wasted moments with her, moments that I wish I could get back. I'm guessing that's a normal part of loss. It just sucks so much not to have one more opportunity to tell her I love her. I believe in God, and I believe in Heaven, so I'm banking on her being able to hear me now, because I talk to her all the time. Probably more now than when she was alive. 

So many times in the months since she has died, I've picked up the phone to call her. Her number is still in there. I can't bring myself to take it out. Silly, I know. But there's a part of me that just can't let go.

She was hospitalized a few days before she passed away. I went to see her that Saturday. I woke her up when I went into her room. The medical professional in me knew she needed to sleep, and almost didn't wake her, but the granddaughter in me wanted her to know I was there. I'm so glad I did. I was in the room with her when the doctors told her that the fight was over, that it was time to go home on hospice, and that it would only be a matter of weeks before her time was up. That was, by far, one of the hardest things to watch. To see a woman I love with my entire heart being told she was going to die, sooner rather than later. She was lucid, so she knew exactly what was happening, and what she was being told. She didn't want to die, but she knew she was out of time. To this day I can't get the image or sound of her crying about what the doctors told her out of my head. I'm glad I was there for her, but I wish the images would go away. It's selfish, because at least I am here to have them. 

There's only one thing that was good about that visit, as it was the last time I saw my Granny alive. As I was leaving, I hugged her tightly and told her I loved her, and she said she loved me. I'll never forget the look in her eyes when I was leaving, because in her eyes was the knowledge that this was quite possibly the last time we would see each other. I didn't want to leave, but I knew I couldn't stay forever. As it turns out, she was released from the hospital the next day, and was barely conscious after that. She passed away Wednesday afternoon. It was a blessing, because at the end things weren't good for her. I was taking the children to see her on Sunday, and it breaks my heart that she never got to say goodbye to them. Hell, it breaks my heart that we had to say goodbye at all.

When it comes to Granny, my life is full of should have, could have, and would have. I should have been better to her when I had the chance. I could have told her I loved her a few more times when I was with her, I should have held her longer. If I had believed that it was our last visit, I would have taken pictures with her, taken the kids to see her. The list goes on. Even though I know in my head that I can't live based on the should/could/would have's. 

I can still hear her voice, so clearly that I feel like I could call her right now, and she'd be on the other end of the line. She loved her family so much, and even the last time I saw her, she was so...well, so Granny. She loved the Orioles, was learning to love football. She loved coffee, and hot tea. She loved her family, and was happiest when surrounded by them, especially her great grandchildren, Makenna was her only great-granddaughter, who shared her middle name as I do. She was always so proud of any accomplishment her family had. When Ben graduated on 12/19, I wanted to call her to tell her. The same as I wanted to call her Christmas Morning. Then I remembered. And I cried. Not as much as the time before, but still.

I'm becoming more and more convinced that this won't go away. The hurt won't disappear, the pain of losing her won't stop. I just hope that some day, some time soon, I can think of her without crying, and that I can see her picture without feeling sad. She loved life, and would hate for us to be sad for her. So I hope that some day, I can think of her with a smile, not a tear.

Granny, I love you so much, and I hope you know that. You left a hole in my heart, and it's one that will never be filled without you on this earth. Someday, I'll see you again, and until then I'll miss you. I think about you every day, and I don't think that will ever change. I hope you are resting peacfully in the arms of your Lord, for if there was any one who deserved to be with Jesus, it was you. If you have any way to do it, please show me that this hurt will stop some day. I miss you so much. I love you more. And I can't, even months later, believe that you are gone.

I love you, Granny. Always.

Love,

Allison