My Silent Heroes

I have found that I am so thankful for the people in my life who help make each and every day just a little bit brighter.  These are not always people who I am close with, but those who, unbeknownst to them, truly make things better for me daily.  I have decided that I need to make it my goal to thank these silent heroes every chance I get.

For example, I woke up this morning and sat up in my bed with a smile on my face because my room was clean and I could see my bathroom which had a clean counter.  I know I pay my maid service to clean my house, but if they only knew how thankful I am when I wake up to a clean house or see the towel hung on the rack with the monogram facing out.  It may seem that something so simple would not make a difference, but it does.

Another one of my silent heroes is the Starbucks barista who knows how to spell my name.  I realize that Valerie can be tough, but come on…  I have seen it spelled many different ways, so when one of them actually spells it correctly it makes me smile.  The best part is that because I keep the cup on my desk for most of the morning, I can look at my correctly spelled name as often as I wish and continue to feel happy.

Probably the biggest thank you goes out to my babysitter.  I work many hours and am so thankful that one thing I don’t have to worry about in my life is that my kids are being taken care of.  She could load them up on caffeinated soda and chocolate bars and I still would love her for taking care of the two people who are the most precious to me (oh, we would have a “talk” about the caffeine and chocolate, but the good still outweighs the bad).  It is such a comfort when I get home from work and Crawford begs the sitter to stay for dinner.   To know that she enjoys her so much that she wants her to stay makes it even better.

While my children are most definitely not my “silent heroes,” it is the little things they do that they don’t even realize that make my heart burst at the seams.  My eleven year old son still calls me “Mommy” and although he could stop tomorrow, I am going to eat it up until he decides to quit.  My daughter, who has a TON of my mannerisms, looks at me daily with this look that I cannot figure out.  It’s a look of awe and admiration that I assume she sees every time I look at her.  My son has this habit of telling me things that he KNOWS are bad just to see my reaction.  It’s like he knows that what the person said is bad, but he wants to hear the reassurance from me that it was indeed ugly.  My prayer is that we can keep that open line of communication as long as possible. 

More than anything though it makes me so happy that my children seem to really enjoy being in my presence.  Like the other night when the bad storm came through Raleigh about 11pm… both kids woke up and came and got into my bed.  Warren was on one side and Crawford was curled up with her head on my leg on the other side.  As we waited out the storm, I savored every second of having both of my babies so close to me.  God sent that thunderstorm and brought my kids closer to me… even for just those few minutes. 

Which brings me to my ultimate and number one silent hero – God.  He doesn’t ask for much, but he gives SO MUCH.  He gave everything for me and you.  If I could only repay Him for the joy He brings into my life each day – through my housekeepers, the Starbucks barista, my babysitter, my children and everyone that I come into contact with thoughout each day.  He may be a silent hero, but He talks to me through every breathing second and I need to remember to thank Him constantly for all of my many blessings.

Who Wins? (Repost from 5/5)

This post disappeared, so I am reposting it...

It’s been one of “those weeks.”   If you are a single mother or father then you will know what I am talking about.  It seems that no matter what I do, there is just not enough time in the day or enough of me to go around.  It’s been one of those weeks where I will thank the Good Lord for letting us make it to the weekend unscathed and no worse for wear.  

The guilt a mother carries due to a week like this is immense.  I never want to let my kids down, but I just can’t make it to absolutely everything.  I am no mother of the year.

Don’t get me wrong, I try to be mother of the year, but sadly no trophy ever comes my way - no t-shirt with my name as a previous year's winner.  I do everything I can to be a great mom.  The problem is that my kids are turning out to be master manipulators of the heart – I have no idea where they would get that from – and they have learned to play me like a fiddle.

I missed Warren’s track meet Tuesday because I would have to miss four hours of work to see him perform for 5 minutes – and there was no idea which five minutes of the four hours it would be.  I knew his dad was going, so I requested a hall pass.  It was granted, but it did not stop him from asking me last night, “Didn’t a do a good job in the relay the other day? Oh, that’s right, you weren’t there.”  

On Tuesday night I was late getting home from work because I stopped at the Fresh Market to get some dinner.  I bought a rotisserie chicken, twice baked potatoes and some of their fancy three cheese ciabatta bread .  I called home to tell them that I was on my way and Crawford said, “I’m going to fix some chicken nuggets because I am starving.”  I told her I was on my way and proudly boasted all the good (and healthy) food I bought.  To which she replied, “But you’re late and I’m starving to deathhhhhhh” (imagine the whiniest and most pitiful tone you can imagine).  I tried to talk her out of it, but she just kept telling me how hungry she was.

I then became that mother I always swore I would not become.  That monster mom just took over my body and I loudly said, “Well do whatever you want to do , you’re going to anyway!” and hung up the phone.  I drove the rest of the way in tears because of how bad it made me feel.  When I got home I apologized for hanging up on her and she said, "I didn't know you did," all the while with a little twinkle in her eye and a sly smirk on her lips.

And no matter what guilt I try to throw back, they always win.  They always know exactly what to say to put me right back in that "mother’s guilt" phase.   

What they don’t know though is that late at night I can tiptoe into their rooms and watch them sleep.  They are so peaceful and calm like when they were tiny babies.  Angelic almost.  Little do they know that no matter what they throw at me – no matter how much guilt they try to heap my way – I WIN.  And I am loving every minute of them.   

(Happy?) Mother's Day

People who are newly separated often ask me, “When will things return to normal?”  After being a single mom for almost seven years I always tell them that I have learned that there is no “normal” anymore.  As a single parent you have to create a new “normal” for your kids and yourself.  No matter how hard you try, things will not be the same as they were before.  Not to say that things are worse than before – just different. 

And the harder you try to recreate the “normal” you knew before, the harder the transition will be on everyone.

Mother’s Day is a perfect example. 

I know there are some single moms who are blessed with ex-husbands who still take the kids to get cards and gifts for their mom – I am not in one of those situations.  My ex didn’t even wish me a happy day… 

When we lived in Greenville, my parents always took the kids out to get me something.  Last year, my boyfriend took them to get cards and gifts.  This year, I just didn’t think about it.  As a result, I spent the day reassuring my children that I was having such a wonderful day since they had no gift or card for me. 

And it was a wonderful day.  My daughter brought me breakfast in bed.  Then we went to church and, afterward, had a nice peanut butter and jelly sandwich lunch together.  Then we went to see Hoodwinked Too and hung around the house all afternoon. 

It wasn’t until today that my emotions got the best of me and I realized that I was exhausted from trying to make sure my KIDS had a great Mother’s Day.  I didn’t need flowers or extravagant gifts or a corsage, but I couldn’t help but feel guilty that my kids were missing out on the true Mother’s Day experience.  It’s just part of the single parent guilt.

Of course hindsight is 20/20 and I am going to make sure that next year I give each child money and let the babysitter take them to the store.  They will get the satisfaction of “gifting” and I won’t feel the need to overcompensate to make them feel “normal.”  It’s all part of the give and take of making the best of the situation you are in.

A Poem After My Own Heart

I went to Greenville last night where I attended the Chris Carter Memorial Golf Tournament pre-party and danced until my legs were sore.  Then, being the overachieving mother that I am, I got up extra early to drive an hour and twenty minutes west to get back to Raleigh to go to Crawford’s Mother’s Day Breakfast in her second grade class.

It warmed my heart when I slipped into the classroom and Crawford and I locked eyes – her huge grin made the effort worthwhile. 

Each child and mother went to the front of the classroom and the child read a poem he or she had written for the mom while the mom sat in a rocking chair and listened.  The poems were heartfelt and sweet.  One boy told his mom that “her beautiful eyes could win a prize.”  I sat there just wondering what sweet sentiments my daughter had penned for me.

When the teacher got to the R’s we went to the front.  With all eyes on us Crawford began her Mother’s Day tribute to me.  After a couple of sweet sentences she said, “I will love you for ever and ever and ever… but if you ask me to do the laundry the answer is NEVER”  (Yes, imagine her saying “never” with passion).

Her Mother’s Day poem to me was a perfect example of the anonymous quote, “Children are natural mimics who act like their parents despite every effort to teach them good manners.” 

The child I carried in my body for nine months – who the Lord brought into this world on March 23, 2003 – chose to interject humor into her poem.  While others may think she was just being silly, I realize that she is already aware, at the ripe age of eight, that I appreciate humor in everything. 

She may have made a joke about laundry rather than telling me my “smile brightens the room,” but I have never felt more loved or more understood.

Happy Mother’s Day!