Cafeteria Lunches and Other Items That Are More Important

I've been trolling my memories lately to see if there is something I've not yet discovered. Bits and pieces of my life as a daughter have started to return.
My Dad was the backdrop to my young life. As a young child he was there at dinner times and always had a good story about his day; asked us questions about our days and was the first to crack a joke. He read to me in the evenings. Sitting cozily beside him, wiped out from our days we plowed through the Narnia books, and many others, together.

My Dad was the one to rescue me after my fall off our backyard swing set. He had been gardening and saw it all happen. One broken arm later and a few months into school, he surprised me with a huge bouquet of balloons for my 6th birthday.

As I grew older he made time to coach my softball team, and my friends thought he was the best. Corny, silly, creative and honest. A great combination.

My Dad was the one that drove me to the hospital emergency room when I wasn't able to breathe.

As I grew older still there were honest and hard conversations about family, church life and friends.

And ultimately, my Dad helped me land my first job as a File Clerk when I was 18, fresh out of Highschool. It was the greatest job. I learned about the healthcare system, while making new professional friends.

The best part though was seeing my Dad every day at work. He would introduce me to his Doctor friends and I would feel so proud to be his daughter. We would eat in the cafeteria together and we would chat. I loved these lunches.

For my Highschool graduation gift he gave me his cafeteria number so that I could eat for free whenever I wanted. It was only supposed to last a summer.

But life gets in the way and I flunked out of college my first year and returned home to the same job. My parents helped me find an apartment and financially they let it be known that I was on my own.

However.....I continued to use my Dad's cafeteria number for lunch.  I don't know why he didn't change the number. He had to have known. Months went by. A year went by.

We continued to see each other at work and occasionally we would still have lunch together. One day he presented me with a very expensive bill and asked me to explain myself.

 It had felt good to use his cafeteria number, I confessed. As well as saving me a bunch of money, it had made me feel connected to him. All the cafeteria ladies knew I was his daughter. Reciting the number at check out made me feel important, successful and happy to be related to someone so passionately friendly and popular.

He sternly put in place a pay-back system. I felt so guilty. He however laughed about it. We laughed about it. He made sure I knew however, It wasn't to happen again.

I ended up working with my Dad for the same company for almost 15 years. I would smile when introduced as Dr. ___'s daughter. I had such pride for my Dad's work and his passions.

When I was four months pregnant with my Loyal Companion I was laid off from the company and asked to gather my belongings and leave the building at once. I was a mess. As I walked out of my boss's office my Dad was there, had come up to say hello; wanted to know if I wanted to grab lunch.

He saw my tears and patiently helped me find a box and loaded all of belongings for me. He slowly walked me out to my car. We said goodbye. He said he would call me. I was so thankful to have him by my side when I exited the building.

A few months later he called me -- he had found a job for me within the same company. He explained that the Director was pleased with my resume, she wanted to know if I could come for an interview. I was 7 months pregnant, I felt sure no one would hire me. I was hired back on with the same company and my Dad and I started to have lunch together again....

My Dad was always there to rescue his daughter. His devotion to me never wavered. Whether it was reading to me after a long day, coaching my softball team or driving me to the hospital; whether it was landing me my first job, supporting me through poor decisions at college or helping me to the car after being laid off, he hung on. However, his financial support of my cafeteria lunches will always be the linchpin.

Through this memory I now see that he has always wanted me to succeed, always wanted me to be happy. He is proud of the Me I am, not who I decide to be on any given day or the circumstances that get thrown in my way. He has always loved the true spirit of his daughter. The innocence of my being.

20 years later, now having children of my own, I can contest to the fact that this is a very hard feeling to hold on to. It slips through my grasp as my children age, get more attitude, perfect the eye roll and are repulsed by my hugs in the school drop off lane. I simply forget to remember their innocence; their baby-like features. Life is tough, it drags even the best of us down. My children deserve an unwavering advocate during these tough times. Thankfully I have my Dad to learn from.

Last night as I laid my Loyal Companion down to rest he randomly belted out a few of the lyrics to the baby song, Banana Phone. I was instantly transported back to a friendlier time, a time when I was constantly called on as a support, a time when my children looked to me for rescuing and I immediately remembered my Dad's cafeteria lunch number (I shouldn't give it out as he might not have changed it yet). My Dad easily supported me through these friendly times but what's even more stunning is that he didn't stop supporting me through the times that were not so friendly. He never wavered. Note taken.

Mothers Walk the Middle

Mothers walk the middle
Until it turns sideways.
Bound together.
You to your mom,
Me to you,
Both to the daughters of different times.
Gifts given and gifts un-given.
Gazing back from all angles.
Sideways squints.
Forward projections.
Bloodlines
No time to stop.
Stop. Time.
All on our own now.
Past emotions mix with new definitions.
Identity dissolved into the middle.
Until usurped by another Mother.

I Thought I Would Have More Time

I thought I would have more time.

More time in the morning to snuggle.

More time for the stroller walks.

More time to tickle.

More time to listen to the baby monitor.

More craft time.

More time to read to a toddler.

More fort time.

More toy time.

Alas my children have moved on.

I am left alone in an empty house.

Their spirits flit around me like aged ghosts.

Past memories.

Lunch time.

Mid-morning park time.

Library story time.

TV time.

Dancing time.

Now their time is their own.

And my time is my own.

The moments went by so slow.

A day could take a year.

I fully respected this passing of time,

But just did not realize it would go by so fast.

I Spotted You Today

I spotted you today
Across the way
the Needle was perfectly displayed
It was nauseatingly gray
I imagined you on Broadway in a Café
and then I turned away

Passageway

Long ago I would have sent out a communique
But there is so much more now in my day
Colorful arrays outweigh my longful display

There is no Parlay

I wondered if you spotted me across the milky way
Courses charted, passed by with quick repartee
You once were my finance
Now we share DNA

I spotted you today.

The End of the Beginning

 Mostly we are always falling. Falling into, or out of something.

I fell headlong into full time Motherhood 5 years ago. In November of 2010 I quit my job of 15 years at MultiCare Health System to become a full time, Stay at Home Mom. My Loyal Companion was in Kindergarten, my not so little Bundle of Joy was only 21 months and My Love was ramping up his travel schedule.


The first day at home was spectacular. It was one of those crisp sunny Fall days and I packed up the stroller with sippy cups and snacks and WALKED! my Loyal Companion to school. Later that day my not so little Bundle of Joy and I counted out our spare coins and we ambled up to Starbucks together. I taught her how to spread her own cream cheese on her bagel and we showed up on time to wait for my  Loyal Companion's last bell to ring.


I knew then that the rug was about to be ripped out from under me. It was a huge U-turn in my life that I had pretty spontaneously decided to take. I had to learn new homework routines and be available to volunteer in classrooms. I started to referee tantrums and sibling squabbles, I had to somehow learn to self motivate at the grocery store and Children's museums and outings had to be researched. I had to learn all of this, and more, without a Space of my own. My office was gone. There was no PC with cute wall hangings to remind me of the good life. There were no morning breaks with co-workers. There was no afternoon commute time to gather up my bravery, while zoning out to NPR.


But at the same time, I discovered Time. Time to clean the sheets, make the dinner, clean the house, create the fun crafts, time to play at the parks, to take the walks (...write the blog) and time to enjoy the small pleasures of coffee with a two year old. These were amazing years. Yes I was bone tired, non-showered and alone half the nights with My Love traveling around the world but I knew that this window of time was so brief and I took full advantage of the time afforded.


Three years into my Stay at Home rocky yet peaceful adventure my not so little Bundle of Joy got sick. Doctor visits, hospital stays, long nights, lost time with my Loyal Companion, struggling with the sickness day in and day out as a single parent half of the time became my life. I pushed my emotions down into the depths and carried on -- for her. Having her healthy again was my only thought. And she did get healthy. Last summer was her last bought of sickness. The three of us had a lovely summer together. My Love had also decided not to travel as much and was available for fun times. I was on top of the world. I could conquer anything. It was the best summer of my life.


Without processing any of my feelings and moving forward swiftly, I went on to accept a nanny position, started to gear up my not so little Bundle of Joy for Kindergarten and bought My Loyal Companion a cell phone. Soccer practices began again and swimming lessons and karate kept us busy as well through the Fall season. My Love announced that, because of being home most of the Summer, he would have a pretty hectic travel schedule until the end of the year. But nothing phased me. I could do it all.


In November of 2014 I was offered a temporary full time work from home position with Sound Physicians and I knew it was the right time. Add it to my list. The day after Christmas My Love and not so little Bundle of Joy came home with a puppy. Everything was great, and then it was not. The rug had been pulled out from under me again but this time I never noticed. It had been pulled out from under me and I had been falling for the last two years. I wasn't prepared. I hadn't stopped/rested to contemplate my trajectory I had just kept moving forward.


I started yelling at my kids more, resenting My Love for being gone, trying to hurry up bedtime routines so that I could carve out time for my work, forgetting to make dinners, to do the laundry...I was a mess. Thankfully I caught myself mid fall and decided that I couldn't carry on this way.


My Love and I spoke about less travel, my need for more support. I started to meditate upon my yelling and but in place a few coping strategies. I gave up the nannying position, tried to lower my expectations for the puppy and muddled through work.


Three weeks ago I was offered a full time permanent position with Sound Physicians. I travelled to Tennessee for a week for job training. I took a morning break with co-workers. Back at home I set up a more permanent home office with a few knickknacks (that my children had made me) that remind me of the good life.


The 1st day of school I dropped off my kids and took a long walk with the crazy pup. There was space. There was time. I began to unravel my emotions of the past. I began to look into the future with a new perspective. The rug had been put back in place, at least for now.


If someone were to ask me what I have learned from this crazy Stay at Home Mom adventure I would have to say that I've learned to live (sometimes not very gracefully) within the falling. The rug only stays put for a little bit of time. Mostly we are always falling. Falling into, or out of something.


I am learning now that it is actually okay to allow myself to fall apart and that I shouldn't try to stop the falling.


Learning how to relax into the falling (now that's the hard one), allowing room for all the different emotions within the falling helps with the coming together again -- the healing.

"When things fall apart and we're on the verge of we know not what,

the test for each of us is to stay on the brink and not concretize...

From this point of view, the only time we ever know what's really going on is

when the rug's been pulled out and we can't find anywhere to land....

Things falling apart is a kind of testing and also a kind of healing.

We think that the point is to pass the test or to overcome the problem,

but the truth is that things don't really get solved.

They come together and fall apart again.

It's just like that. The healing comes from letting

there be room for all of this to happen;

room for grief, for relief, for misery for joy."

--When Things Fall Apart, by Pema Chodron.

--Thank you for accompanying me on my Stay at Home Mom journey. I wouldn't trade any of my falls for anything. The healing has begun.  

Honesty

I was unprepared for the early blooms on our Magnolia trees in March. The fresh pink petals were a welcome sign to me. An invitation to enjoy life. But the blooms withered so quickly I hardly had time to remember Spring.


My tomatoes are already ripening and I've enjoyed a few right off the vine. What used to signal the end of an Indian Summer now foreshadows my unpreparedness for Back to School. I try to remember to inhale the soiled vegetable smell before washing my hands, but most times I forget.


To be honest, I haven't been enjoying life lately. The nagging comes too quick. The PC rages to life too early. My punctuality is a death sentence. I refuse to breathe deep. I am caught in an asthmatic reaction  to life and I begin to yell.


And, to make matters worse I am not sure what the cure is. I think I hit my tipping point last Fall. Nannying a small boy, starting full time work, trying to shore up my not so little bundle of joy for kindergarten, hardly ever seeing my husband, getting a puppy and being a full time taxi driver were just a few of the issues I was dealing with.


Overwhelming anger, anxiety, loneliness and the fear that someone would find out how unhappy I was made my breathe stay shallow and the yelling began.


Yes, I yell at my kids. I have been yelling since November. I haven't stopped. Ever so often I see the parting in the clouds, I make amends, I tell myself tomorrow will be better, but it's not.


My not so little bundle of joy crafted a stick fort last summer in our backyard. I refused to take it down all winter for it was my lifeline back to a time when I was more light. But one day I took it apart, stored all the huge sticks (logs) behind our outside toy box. I forgot about Summer and fell into the doldrums of the blah-ness that happens between the summers.


The other day my little bundle of joy was building an inside fort with her friends. I was totally in to it and was helping with blankets and chairs and books...but the ceiling was too low though and I had an excellent idea. I went out to the backyard and brought in those sticks I had saved and we worked together to prop up the blanket ceilings. My not so little bundle of joy was amazed.


I was amazed too, it was one of those cloud parting type of feelings. I do have these - and the sad part is that they do happen often. I just cannot figure out how to hold on to these feelings of joy, spontaneity and love. I quickly dive down deep again into my own feelings of self doubt.


And I continue to yell. Don't think I'm an awful Mom. My kids like to argue ALOT with each other and it drives me insane. Also, neither of them feel like listening when it is time to depart the house and more often than not we are late - hurrying them out the door is a feat unto itself. Also, my kids have perfected the disrespectful eye roll and cannot stop negotiating with me about punishments. So I continue to yell.


It is an abysmal trait that I wish could be stripped from me. Being that this yelling is such a recent phenomena, I keep hoping that it will just wither away - but I don't think I am that lucky.


Honesty, in spite of my weakness, seems to be the only cure. I have a problem. I cannot remember how to slow down my crazy thoughts and these thoughts sometimes spiral out of control and then I am yelling. I feel powerless before the yelling and I feel powerless after the yelling.


I wish the Magnolia blooms would bloom all year and that my tomatoes would stay ripe on the vine long enough for me to enjoy more than a few weeks of their tastiness. I wish that stick forts with my lovely children would be enough of a reminder. These reminders to live lightly, with intentionality unfortunately do not stick around long enough and I digress into new feelings of inadequacy when one of these reminders decides rears it's pretty head.


Self doubt, powerlessness and inadequacy. A new perspective is in dire need. I've gone through my catalog of past perspectives and although true at the time, these will do me no good tonight. The gift of an unhappy ending; living within my faults. Having to clean myself of these faults, I am determined to move on, living authentically however with more loving intention.