Being a Good Parent

Long ago when all I could do was imagine my grown up life one day, I was being parented by good parents.  They gave me space with limits.  They weren’t  perfect but I sure knew to say, “Yes, Ma’am and Yes, Sir”, respect my elders, how to write a thank you note, and how it was important to give to others.  I was taught to respect myself and to not ever give up too.  And above all, I was told I was loved and I was.  I knew my parents loved me.  I never had reason to doubt it.  

Then one day came and just like that, I was a parent.  I was shocked by the amount of love I felt instantly for this little, tiny, baby and I was amazed that I never knew how much my parents actually loved me!  I couldn’t believe what I thought wasn’t even close and I understood them so much more.  

Everyday since becoming a parent I’ve tried my hardest to be the best mother I could be.  I’ve had visions of who I wanted to be as a mother my entire life and every day I attempt being her.  I wouldn’t have a clue how to do it if my own mother hadn’t been so great.  To be a great parent, the easiest way is to be from great parents.  We repeat the patterns we’ve been taught to repeat.  If we don’t have great parents, we’ve known someone we thought was one and we could possibly try to copy their patterns.  Or maybe if we needed an example we could find guidance.  With the love I felt for my children, I’m sure I would have tried my hardest, even if I hadn’t been shown the best examples. 

Today I’m baffled by how many parents fail at their job.  They disappear or are selfish.  They’re lazy and don’t care.  Maybe they’re just doing what was done to them.  I don’t know.  What I do know is that we all should try to be better parents than the ones we had.  Even if ours were pretty great.  If yours weren’t, why wouldn’t you envision your own childhood and give them what you wished you had?  Why is that so hard.  Remember yourself as a child and heal yourself by being a better parent than the one that failed you.  How could you not try?

I’m lucky that I had two parents that loved me.  I really am.  I was lucky enough to have 2 healthy happy children.  I have not been lucky in lots of other ways.  I will never let that affect who I am as a parent to my babies.  I wish others could feel that same way too.  I wish before cheaters cheated they’d think about how this could hurt their children.  I wish before abusers beat or ripped someone apart with words, they’d think about how that was changing their children forever.  I wish that when people do seperate and/or eventually divorce that they would put their children before their dating life or their social life.  It makes children feel last when they constantly feel like they’re last in place in your priorities.  

I’ve seen an article floating around Facebook lately about letting your children know you’re the most important person in your family, not them.  I get the point of this article but it doesn’t read right to me.  How about let’s put family first and together as a unit our family is most important.  Not any one member.  That just sounds better to me. Family.  We should all try to have better families even when it’s just a mom and her two kids, like me. 

Much Love ~ iom

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Rushing In

I remember the crisp smell of morning when I was a little girl.  The grass, a magically vibrant green, covered in morning dew, glistened as the sun rays reached across it.  The air, soft in the first moments of the day.  A new beginning.  It was calmer when the sun was rising to the top of the sky.  The shadows spread outward, away from you. Calling you to follow.  

When you live near water there’s often fog on warm mornings.  It’s a time when you get to stand within the clouds.  Feel them pass through you.  Be.

Bird songs fill the air.  Some sharp.  Some melodic.  My old friend, Bob White.  All happily making morning music.  Great beginning to the day.

I alone experience these sensations for I am only one.  I do not share my person with another.  I cannot feel for anyone but me.  My body.  My mind.  As a child I sensed these things.  As an adult I absorb them.  We are all alone.  We are all free.  

🍻iom

Party of 1 

Some days I wish for the simplicity of my younger days.   How big the world was and as equally big, my dreams.  I miss knowing that if I fell my parents were always there to pick me up…that I was loved unconditionally.  

I adore my children.  It is exhausting raising them without having someone to split the responsibility with, share the joys with, and plan for their future with.  It is lonely when I have the best news about one or both of them but I know I can’t share it with their father because he will ruin it.  He will steal the joy and make it about him.  So I have it alone.  I can share it with friends but no one cares about your children like you do or like their father is suppose to.  I can learn to be ok with it just being a moment that I alone am proud of.  That should be enough for me. 

Their father is ignoring them right now.  Barely giving them any time.  Missing his nightly calls.  He’s doing this partly because of they’re shining and it takes away from him.  The other reason he’s ignoring them is because my birthday is coming up.  If he talks to them, they may ask for his help to get me something.  My birthday isn’t about him and he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, so he ignores them.  It’s a pattern.  Happens every year.  He can’t turn personal holidays, like someone else’s birthday or Mother’s Day, into an event about him so he chooses to ignore them.  Ignoring them gets him talked about so that brings the attention back to him.  True narcissist style.  He doesn’t really understand that this doesn’t hurt me, it’s just another day, but it does hurt our children.  They want to be able to do something for me.  I help them with his birthday so they get really confused when he doesn’t do the same.  I always tell them to make me something but they always seem sad even when I act super excited about my picture or whatever else they made me.  That part breaks my heart.  

I really miss those carefree days when I didn’t know someone with a personality disorder could turn my world upside down.  I miss the days before I really knew they existed.  The days when I thought everyone cared about others and wouldn’t intentionally hurt you for their personal gain.  I miss the days of not having huge stressors.  I miss the days of believing I would get married to a wonderful man, have children and grow old together, loving and supporting one another.  I miss those dreams.  I miss the simplicity of them.  I miss my innocence. I miss my ignorance.  It was bliss. 

❤️ iom

Memories

I just remembered this song and how I wanted it to be on my birthing mix of music.  For the hospital.  It’s like I’ve be screaming at myself for years and I couldn’t even hear myself scream.  Sad to think about.  This is also when my ex wrote me a note and promise seconds before being let back in the operating room for my c-section.  I didn’t need the birthing mix after all.

His note said, “Ebba (a nickname my family use to call me when I was little that he thought was cute) I promise I’m going to be the best husband and daddy ever.  We are going to have the best little family and I just can’t believe we are about to have our first baby.  You’ve done such a good job preparing for her.   I know I’m going to cry like a baby. I love you so much.”

Too bad he only meant the things during the moments.  When it got hard, he always ran until he started doing (or possibly finally getting caught for) all the terribly cruel and abusive things I’ve written about.  Too bad the moments weren’t the life.

As I sit here writing this I overhear the conversations these ladies walking by were talking about.  They’re complaining about heir husbands not doing his part of the dishes or complaining over who does more of the housework.  I just wanted to scream, but does he love you? Eff the dishes and be happy you love each other.  I promise you if your marriage ends you’ll wonder why you wasted your breath on such trivial things.