The month of February is always a bit stressful for me, not because it’s the shortest month of the year, but rather because the year really gets kicked off that month. January, for me, is more like catch up and recovery from the holidays, month. Whereas February, always marks the start of tax season and finding all the paperwork that goes with them…which isn’t always easy when you’ve decided to redo the inside of your house. Then there is making sure the doll’s registration and class schedules are set as well as celebrating my growing children’s birthdays… and the boy turning 18 has been hard for me to grasp.
When I began writing this blog seven years ag0 (coincidentally in February), I had no idea how writing would become a life line for me. A place where I could vent-yet see the humor in their actions or inaction’s; as the case may be. I remember someone asking me how much of what I write about is true and I replied, 97% plus or minus 5 because there are days when I shouldn’t use my poor word choice (or theirs) while in the throws of an argument. But on average, the “stories” substance or essence, has been accurate. Lately, I’ve cut back on my writing for two reasons of which you’re familiar, “My kids are in a boring phase” and “I’ve had a bit of writers block”. In all honesty, my kids are moving away from the stories that made this so fun to write. Next year the boy, will be a freshman at some university and I will no longer have oversight into what he’s up to–other than the morsel or two he’ll drop (which judging from his recent conversations with me will be meager at best ). My doll will continue to lend fuel to the flame, but how much?
I guess what I’m driving at is if I continue writing this blog, my storytelling will change. I’m sure my doll is happy to hear she won’t be the center of all the attention… though, you never know. While I plan to continue to write about my kids and family, you might see me try my hand at writing other stuff… or not, please stay tuned.
Yesterday, while flipping around on Facebook, I came across an advertisement to update my old family video tapes to a digital format and began to wonder, where were all my old videotapes? After rooting around in a basement file cabinet, I found the old camcorder, the necessary cords and about fifteen mini DV tapes. Once I made sure the old camera was in fine working order, I sat down and began reliving old memories. The very first image that came through was of my deceased father in law Charlie, rocking a very young boy on his shoulder. “Honey, get down here!!” I yelled up the stairs to my hubby, so we could both enjoy seeing his father, full of life and love with our newborn baby. A minute later I yelled out, “Doll, c’mere, look at this…” Then held up the little screen for her to see. “I told you, you were a scooter and faster than any kid crawling,” I said as the image of baby dolly scooted across the screen. “Well that was a perfectly good waste of my knees,” She sarcastically replied. A minute later, the boy entered the room and I said, “Hey, check out your dance moves…” and he knelt down to watch he and the doll have a dance contest to Irish music from 2005. “Jeez, I was a little skinny kid back then…” He said and I nodded in agreement.
Tape after tape revealed a gold mine of memories and smiles, some tears and plenty of laughter. “Oh she’s saying she’s tired…” I said when I watched a moment of the doll in her high chair, rubbing her eyes, squirming and fighting to stay awake. The funny part being, I said the same thing as I said on the tape–at the same time. I guess some things do not change. After viewing all the tapes I have to say, I wish I had captured more screen time with my mom holding my babies or even have glimpses of her standing in the background or foreground–to reinforce to my kids (who barely remember her) what a beautiful woman she was. Though I have to say when her voice did permeate through all the noise, my heart sang at the pure joy of hearing her again.
But all in all, I miss having babies and being such an important part of their lives… but I wouldn’t trade one second from watching them grow into who they are. What an adventure, what a treat, what a gift and blessing.
What a Mean Mommy Memoir.