Busy Busy

Sometimes I don't post because I'm sad. Other times? I'm too tired (and by tired I mean mind-numbingly exhausted, can't believe I've kept the children alive this long I'm so tired) to be creative. And still other times? I'm just busy living life, loving my kids, trying not to nag The Greatest too much, battling daily to keep the house at a bare minimum of sanitary, just the mundane snippets of life that are extraordinary and often beautiful in their simplicity (except when I clean the base of the toilet. There's nothing beautiful about cleaning the base of the toilet. Especially in the children's bathroom. I just remind myself I'm incredibly spoiled to have a designated children's bathroom. But spoiled or not, it's still not pretty. But I digress.).

Right now I'm busy. Nothing big keeping me busy. Just busy with the little things. There's still a load of laundry waiting to be folded. Three loads waiting to be put away. And that aforementioned toilet? Yeah, it's waiting too. All this must quickly be done before Sweet Pea wakes up from her nap. Because once she's up the house turns into the Sweet Pea show. All attention must be on Sweet Pea. No setting this child in the bouncy chair while I attend to other things. All eyes on Sweet Pea. And being the epitome of the spoiled final baby she is indulged by the entire house. All three children clamor for her smiles and attention. But again, I digress. I know you've been patiently waiting too! My knitting has been all rubbish lately (I just love that word, makes me feel like I'm British, and possibly a wizard). And no, that's not me being overly critical, it really has been bad knitting lately. It's very sad. I'll post more on that later (it's all the Hemlock Ring Blanket's fault). For now, with the little time I've got left (I hear movement on the baby monitor) I'll give you the good stuff. I know what you're really here for anyways.

My Little Easter Egg

Thank you all for your kind words. I didn't expect such an out pouring of love. It means more than most of you will ever know. I don't have the words to adequately say the things I'm thinking and feeling, so I'll leave it at Thank You.

Sweet Pea is also doing her best to make Easter a wonderful holiday. Here she is doing her best Easter Egg impression.

Isn't she pretty?

Feeling Introspective

A blogger I love recently wrote about blogs losing that certain something. Every blog has something that makes it unique. It might be a writing style, a way with words, a talent for laughter, or inspiring photography, or just an undefinable something that brings you back day after day. Sometimes blogs get boring. The spark that caused you to bookmark the site is missing. Something has changed and the difference is bad.

I'm afraid I've lost my spark.

I've gone through something. I thought I was sad when The Greatest lost his job. I thought I would never be the same when we had to sell our home. I grieved when my best friend moved away. I thought I was bereaved the day the dryer broke and The Greatest lost his job again. But that was all nothing. Those were blips in my life that changed the course our life was taking, but it didn't change me. Not the way I changed when my Mom died.

I'm sad. And I'm sick of pretending nothing has changed. There is an unfillable void in my life now. There's a corner of my soul that will never be bright again, no matter how happy I am with the rest of my life. The Greatest can always get another job. We have never been homeless, we've always found another place to live. But I can never get another Mother, nor do I want another Mother. I miss my Mom.

I'm sad that my Mom will never smile at Sweet Pea. I'm sad that my Mom didn't get to see The Greatest graduate from the Academy. My Mom won't be there next month when my Sister gets married. There are milestones of life that won't be shared with her, one of my best friends. These milestones will come and go with joy, but there will be an empty spot where she should be. When will the urge to call and share my day with her go away?

I was digging through the archives of my blog looking for something and I was amazed by the changes my blog has gone through in the past year and a half. Heck, I wrote it and I can see the glaring difference. I miss that girl who started this blog. That girl always had hope. She laughed at herself. She had the eternal love of Boyd. I liked her a lot.

I'd like to bring that girl back. I'd like to laugh at myself again. I'd like to not hide my bad days. I'm not healing because I'm not acknowledging the big elephant in the room. If I don't make fun of the fact I've worn my pajamas for five days in a row, how can I laugh at myself on the sixth day when I pull on yet another pair, instead of crying on the sixth day as I pull on yet another pair.

(And for the record, that's an example, I am not in fact wearing pajamas today. Instead I am wearing my fat girl uniform of black velour pants, hoodie, and brightly colored t-shirt, some articles of which may still be maternity although I am in fact not pregnant. But my post-baby body issues are a topic for another time, I'm trying to be deep today)

I don't know where I'm going with this. It's probably Easter that's brought this melancholy all out. I used to love Easter. It has the best candy, with a heavy emphasis on chocolate. And the candy is brought to you, no work gathering it up like Halloween. Some nice bunny brings it right to you. And did you know my love of bunnies runs deep? Someday I'll tell you the tale of Georgia Anne and Mr. Rustle. I used to love Easter. I want to enjoy Easter. But it too is tainted with a black void that Snicker eggs just can't fill. Not even the Sweet Tart Bunnies and Chicks can brighten the darkness (although they might be contributing to the fat girl uniform). And until I can laugh at the dark, I fear I won't find my spark.