Posts tagged ‘connection’

May 12, 2015

~*what I know now*~

For years, Mother’s Day has always been a reminder of the one I lost. It was difficult and has always made me angry and resentful. I’d see friends photos, smiling with their mothers or hear them say about how they practically talk to their mom every other day and wonder what that was like. Intrigued, to have someone that cared to hear about my life and accomplishments. To lend a hand or give me advice. Who was totally on my side and there to guide me as I tried to figure out life and how to navigate it. Who, if I made a mistake would say it was okay and that I could just start over or try again. I don’t know what that’s like, nor will I ever. I have always felt exposed. Out on a pinnacle. Alone.

When I was in my early 20’s, I read a book titled ‘Motherless Daughters’. The only thing I can recall from that book, was that once I had my own child, my own daughter, that I would start to heal. I wanted a daughter so badly, not for that reason, because I didn’t actually believe it. Although when I see her play, at times I see myself. My little girl self. What I would be like just having fun, enjoying life and not worrying about my mom being sick and who would take care of me next, if anyone. It’s bittersweet. I am glad I can give that to my children, but deep down still crave it for myself. In my mind, there is a part of me that feels like my mom gave up. Like I wasn’t worth living for, even though my adult self rationally knows how badly ill she was and how it consumed her.

Arden feeding ducks Mothers Day 2015 copy

I can tell you, that having children has done wonders for me. It has brought me back to myself and continues to do so. It’s a daily struggle though. Part of me always thinking I would be the mom that plays and always has fun. In reality, my practical side is making sure Arden has worked on her homework, gotten in the shower readying for bed or dressed for school. It’s me telling her to stop playing with her brother and finish her dinner. I’m always hurrying, trying to be on task and it rather sucks. The other day, she was singing and my thought was “Oh my gosh! Just be quiet, life is not a flippen’ musical!” At that mere thought, my hand flew over my mouth, because I have ALWAYS been of the opinion that life should have a soundtrack, just like in movies. It genuinely disappoints me that doesn’t really happen, so I try to help it along and play music all the time instead. That thought though, left me panicked, horrified and so relieved I hadn’t said it outloud.

Cam on first swing FP mothers day 2015 copy

Yesterday, we started out having the best day. Joel has always gone out of his way to make Mother’s Day special for me. There was brunch, gifts, a nap, the park. And then we pushed it. We went out to dinner and it was a disaster. Cam sat in his car seat fervently grabbing and kicking a laminated drink menu beside Joel. He would screech if you tried to take it away or offer him a bottle. Arden, despite advisement not to, managed to eat 4 rolls, which she threw up all over herself as we were getting ready to pull out on the street heading home. As I water boarded my daughter in the parking lot in front of onlookers (because her hair was full of vomit), I couldn’t help but feel that this was not how my special day was supposed to end. Annoyed and frustrated with smelly, crying children.

Today is a new day and I tell Arden that we all start over. I try to explain that I know that 4 rolls is too many and try to prevent her from getting sick by telling her so. That moms know lots about cause and effect. She is intrigued. I hope she will listen next time, but she probably won’t. And in that moment, I realized that even if my mom had been around to give me advice, I probably wouldn’t have listened anyway.

Erin Arden Cam FP mothers day 2015 copy

November 26, 2012

Moments I live for.

I am a hopeless romantic. I believe in “meant to be”. I love reflecting on how many times my husband and my paths may have crossed before finally meeting at the 2010 census. Everything coming together, just at the right time, like cymbals crashing at the height of a symphony. I’m fascinated by relationships and how they work. Movies, of course, play right into my mindset. The heavy disappointment when instead of explaining themselves, the girl and boy part ways, never understanding what went wrong. The elation, when someone finally finds the courage to make a move and spill their deepest feelings, no matter the cost. These are moments I live for, yet are so hard to come by in real life.


A couple weeks back I was waiting in line at the gas station. Prices had dropped for a minute and cars were backed up at least three behind each pump. On my left, an elderly woman waited her turn. Just as she began to roll her car and take her place as first, a pick-up truck whizzed in from the opposite direction, stopping her in her tracks. The older gentleman that stepped out seemed distracted and confused. He obviously hadn’t seen her and now was flustered by the scenario he found himself in. The startled old woman noticed his apparent distress and got out of her vehicle. Instead of admonishing him for stealing her rightful spot, she offered assistance.

At first, I thought they may know each other. A friend helping another. Totally eaves dropping on their interaction, I found that was not the case.

Gentleman: I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened. I’m so confused.

Lady: Here, let me help you. (as she pulls out the nozzle and starts to pump gas into his car.)

Gentleman: I just haven’t been right since my wife died several years ago.

Lady: Ah, huh (nods in agreement and sympathy) Is there anything else I can help you with?

Gentleman: Can I kiss you?

Lady: Oh heavens, no!

Gentleman: (Talks more about his wife and various body ailments) then asks
“Are you married? Do you want to be?”

Lady: My husband passed away too. No, I’m fine, I don’t want to be married.

Gentleman: I’m 87 and my wife died 4 years ago.

Lady: I’m 87 too. My birthday is in July. When’s yours?…

I giggled to myself, thoroughly enjoying having been a fly on the wall to their interaction. I wanted to stay and listen longer, but my tank was full and it would only be rude to continue to hold up the line. I pulled away, feeling elated and smiling. I loved how the elderly man, with nothing to lose but his loneliness, totally laid it all out there. How the lady, despite her refusal to his brazenness, still stayed to chat with him. Sometimes I find myself wondering where they are and how it ended up. Of course, secretly hoping I was a witness to “meant to be.”

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