The Like Button

The words are missing.

I don't even know why.

I have things I want to say but the words...they just don't seem right. I write something and the hit delete. Then I write a bit more and...delete. Then I think I have it and...wait for it... d e l e t e!

Why are the words so hard to find today? Why am I trying to write when I don't have the words? What is my purpose? Where did my voice go?

At the end of the day, I find myself writing stories in my head each and every day. I think I've done it my whole life.

Sometimes I dreaming of a world I want. Sometimes I'm dreaming of a world that could be. Sometimes I'm trying to correct things in my life.

Today...I'm just writing. There are no words but I write. My thoughts are jumbled but I write. My fears are growing but I write.

I don't understand why I continue to write. I have a few faithful friends and family that read but mostly, it would be safe to say this is just a journal. It seems to make little to no difference in life.

I'm just another person with a blog. Doesn't everyone have a blog now?

I don't have a niche, maybe just a glitch. I'm not clever or funny or witty. I'm not an authority on anything. I don't have a fantastic story to share. I don't have tales from far away places. I just write.

I feel like all I write about right now is that I write.

I think it's because I'm hiding.

I'm hiding from sharing what's really inside.

I'm an insecure person. Yep. I said it. I have lots and lots of fears. Anxiety and I are old friends.

I want to write my book. I want to share on my blog. I want to put it out there but then... maybe no one reads it. Or maybe no one comments. Or no one hits the "like" button.

Then I laid it all out there and well, I proved myself right...no one is there. I'm all alone.

I know it's not true but then little things happen to confirm my fears. I have friend who have never read a word I've written. I have family that didn't know I wrote. I have been blogging for years and no one follows me. I have my steady 30 readers and then something different happens.

I share these feelings and fears with a few close friends. One quotes me. I almost cry. One said, "Wow 30 readers" and then commented that she thinks I might be the only one on earth that would read her blog. Then my blog gets shared on another page and more than 100 people read one post.

It felt really good. I was excited. But the comparison game starts...

I look at a blog that I have seen several of my friends share. This woman writes less than I do and man when she does write, thousand and thousands read what she wrote. They share it and share it and it goes viral every single time.

Then I read another blog. This guy doesn't even know what he's talking about and he has thousands of followers.

I try to tell myself these things don't matter but in the end, I think the "like" button is ruining my life. I wait to see how many hits I get, how many likes, how many comments. I check over and over and over. I look at the stats obsessively.

Then I almost break and I try to talk myself off the ledge. I call some close girlfriends and get reminded of the truths I know. I know I have a way with words. I know I am able, capable and called. I can hear my mother's voice very clearly. She encourages me to keep writing.

I allow my friends to remind me that I like writing. That I'm good at it. That I wasn't out to be the biggest, badest, bestest. I just wanted to write what was on my heart and in my mind.

So I start a blog and I babble a lot. I write about writing. I write to get it out. I have fears and anxiety about writing. I don't ever feel like I'm enough or even have the right words to write.

Today, I won't fret too much. It's really not about the "like" button. I will not let it ruin my life. After all, Facebook could come out with a "dislike" button. Then I certainly would have lots to fret about...like how many "dislikes" would I get?

My hero...a 14 year old?

No really, I'm serious. My 14 year old daughter is my hero. She really is. She's amazing. She's so loving. She's so strong. She's so beautiful.

The other day, we were just sitting around chatting. I told her she was beautiful and she started to tell me why I was wrong. Knee jerk response is the best was to describe it. It was an instant response. I was baffled for a minute. I thought, "Where on earth did she get this behavior?"

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks...me.

Oh no! My worst nightmare!

My daughter has picked up my "bad" habits. She cannot take a compliment. She denies positive words. She negates any affirmation. The worst of this is she learned it from me.

That old lie that we should shove off compliments with a minimizing statement is just wrong, wrong, wrong. You know what I mean. People say things like, "Oh I love your hair." Your response is, "Ugh, I need a hair cut." Not, "Thank you" or "You're so sweet" or "I take really good care of it."You simply explain to people that they are wrong...that you are not beautiful or worth the compliment.

My daughter actually told me she doesn't like to smile because she doesn't like her teeth. I know she needs quite a lot of cosmetic correction. She'll need braces and veneers. She might need more than that but I had those bad teeth too when I was young. I remember not smiling. I remember hating my teeth. I got braces and after they came off, I could not stop smiling.

But there's a problem with this. My mom did the same thing. She didn't smile because her teeth were damaged from years of taking medications for her complications with diabetes. When she did smile, it was closed lipped. Now that she's gone, it makes me want to cry. I have no good pictures of my mom smiling. Every time the camera was out, my moms lips were pierced shut. That wasn't her natural smile, but that's all I have...lots and lots of pictures of her mouth sealed shut hiding her teeth.

As her daughter, I didn't care what the meds had done to her teeth. I loved her smile. Her true smile. I just want to look at a picture of her smiling. I want to remember her smile. Those memories are fading and the pictures do not bring back her true smile to memory.

Now I have a daughter that learned this same behavior...three generations of fake smiles concealed behind closed lips. I found my smile only after having dental correction. But here's the thing...I wish I found my smile even when my teeth laid crooked in my mouth.

I wish I had embraced a true smile in spite of my less than perfect teeth. I wish I allowed myself to be happy with how I looked. I wish. I wish. I wish.

So I told my daughter I loved her smile. I told her I wanted to see her authentic happy smile. I wanted to see the smile that happens after a solid laugh. I want to have pictures of her that look like the happy girl I know and love. I told her it broke my heart that her Nana wouldn't smile for pictures. My daughter was so very close to her Nana (my mom). I saw tears in her eyes when I told her how hard it was for me to not have Nana anymore and not have a single picture of her Nana smiling her natural smile. I told her that Nana spent a lot of time hiding her teeth. I told her the only thing it did was make me sad.

I hugged my girl. I told her she was beautiful and when she tried to dodge the compliment, I told her to listen not talk. I told her I loved her smile. I loved her laugh. I loved her. I told her she was beautiful. I told her that her hair was gorgeous. I told her that her eyes were stunning. I hugged her and affirmed her.

I told her I was to blame for her not being able to take the compliment. I told her it was a lie that we needed to negate compliments. I told her that when we speak poorly of ourselves, that self talk does damage whether we say it out loud or in our head. I told the first act of being authentic was to take a compliment. Believe that the person meant it. Love that someone cares enough to say it. Then tell yourself those words are true.

Here's my beautiful girl performing with the Color Guard at a Marching Band performance at our first football game.

She's smiling...and her teeth are showing.

It's not the biggest smile I've seen, but she's smiling.

She's my hero. She heard me. She listened to the people who love her. She smiled. I know she's going to be okay. She's going to hear the world's compliments and believe them. She's going to smile for pictures. She'll eventually get braces...but until then, she'll smile. Teeth showing. Why? Because she's amazing. That's why she's my hero!

Turning another page...and saying goodbye

It was the last home football game last night. As the color guard coach, that kinda means my job is over for the season. It was our last performance. During the game, they honored the Seniors (football, cheerleaders and band members) I have two girls on color guard that are seniors. The band members got roses from someone they picked. It was sweet and there were lots of hugs.

After the game, there were lots and lots of pictures. Seniors taking pictures with each other, with directors, with coaches and with family. They were preserving memories in time. They were hugging and laughing and a few tears were shed. I told the band director that I didn't know how she did this every year. She joking said that she hated it and didn't want them to go off and live their lives. Somehow, we both knew it was only partly a joke.

One of my senior girls wrote notes to everyone in the guard including me. She's been amazing to get to know. She's a wonderful young woman and I cannot wait to hear about what she discovers in life and where she goes. She has the whole world ahead of her and made several profound statements last night, one of them being that she never thought this day would come.

Boy do I know what she's saying! I never actually thought I'd ever had a high schooler. I know its three years till I have a senior getting ready to leave my home, but nights like last night remind me it's a lot closer than I thought.

All of the sudden my heart ached for her parents knowing this was the last bunch of holidays that they knew all their girls would be living at home. The last year they knew they would all sit around the table for Thanksgiving. The last year they knew that on Christmas morning they would all wake up in the same house. The last year they knew that they would ring in one last New Year with their family.

It was a picture of a not-to-far-away future for our family. We have so little time with our kids. I know friends who have had adult children come home, but that's not the same. We only have a snap shot in time with our kiddos in our home, under our protection and guidance, living by our rules and being fed physically, emotionally and financially by us.

As I said goodbye to my first color guard, my heart ached. I know I will see these girls again, but this part is over. It was the last performance. For the families of seniors, it's a year full of lasts. The list gets long and as I talked to this one mom, she said it doesn't feel real. She said she didn't think it would set in until her daughter moved out.

It seems like yesterday when I was marking calendars with firsts and now I'm getting ready to celebrate lasts. My kids are growing. My life is forever changing. I guess I never thought about that the milestone would go from the first laugh and the first bite of food to the last performance, the last school dance, the last day of school.

For the last color practice, I had the girls relax a bit before the game. I'm going to miss this a lot.

Last warm up finished with a bang.

By they way they were relaxing...not collapsed because of practice. 

  

Last line up.

Ready for the very last pre-game show.

I didn't take nearly enough pictures.

Date night

So date night means hubby & I are trying to figure out what to do.

We finally get showered & dressed. 

We get into the car. 

We have now successfully shot down every suggestion the other makes. 

We get in the car...still no plan. 

We drive up Academy. 

We make it into one parking lot. 

We go a different direction. 

Hubby gets a text from friends with whom we had back up plans. Their plans canceled. Meet them. 

They are actually only a few blocks away. 

We have a nice dinner with friends. 

We go home & throw on a movie. 

I end up with a cuddle partner. 

It was a great date night. 

Words from a blended family...

The sounds of children talking can be so precious. I love sitting on my bed listening to the chatterings of children on the other side of the door. They don't know I am listening and so they chatter away unfiltered.

I hear them share things I would otherwise never hear. They tell each other things that make a mother's heart smile. They talk as though there are no lines that separate them. They converse like old friends and sisters. They love each other so much and you can hear it in the tenderness of their voices.

But when others listen...

The story changes...

They have to define things like "your dad" said or "your mom" said. They have to respect the lines adults have created. They don't say our parents but rather, your mom & my dad. They don't say my sister but rather use a name as to not offend others that may be listening.

You've heard about parental alienation but what about step-alienation? Not just for the step-mom or step-dad but the step-siblings. They don't want to draw lines. They don't want to call each other step-sisters or step-brothers. We don't use that term in our home but others almost require it of them.

What I mean by that is this...

We have two girls the same age in the same grade. One his. One hers. So being at the same school, people want to know how they are sisters if they aren't twins. Once the word "step" is introduced, it seems everyone has to define that for them. I've heard things like, "Well they're only step-sisters, not real sisters."

I just wanna scream! What do you mean they aren't real sisters? They share a room, sit next to one another at the table, share a bathroom, have some friends in common, have the same chores, do their laundry together and well do just about everything together. In some ways, I think they are more sisters than the girls in our home that actually share some blood.

What makes a "real" sister, I might ask?

As an adoptee, I have heard people ask me who my "real" parents where or wanting to use "adoptive parents" when referring to my mom & dad. I've had to educate people that my mom & dad were my "REAL" parents. They were the only parents I know. They are legally responsible for me and legally connected to me for life. In some ways, as and adopted person, I actually have more legal connection to my parents than birth kids. You can disown a kiddo from a will if you so please. Did you know my parents cannot? They swore before a judge to be legally attached to me for the rest of their lives and unlike divorce, there is no getting out of this one. My parents cannot disown me. They are stuck with me.

But I never thought I would have the same sickening feeling in my stomach when people talked about my kiddos. I hate defining 1/2 siblings and step-siblings. Who cares? No really...I want to know. Who cares? Why do you care if my kids are in the same grade but not twins? Why do you have to define which kid belongs to which parent? Why do you need to know how everyone fits together?

I call it step-family alienation.

Would you think it rude if I asked you if your husband was your kiddo's dad? Would you think it inappropriate if I asked when you got married & how old your kids are? Would you willing provide an explanation of how everyone in your family is related? Do you need to know how long my husband was divorces before we married? Do you need to know when my late husband passed away? Do you need to know how long I waited before I dated?

Guess what? I married an amazing man. We have 5 kids. Done. That's it.

If I don't use these words in my home, why do you (society) force my kids to use them?

My girls told me & hubby at dinner last week that the next time people tried to figure out how they were sisters, they were just going to tell them they were twins...identical twins! I said more power to you.

I mean my girls can talk without even using real words. They translate for each other. They predict each others' next move. They finish each others' sentences. Sounds like twins to me! Just sayin'

The "twins" are the brunettes...if you couldn't tell.

Huge outpouring...

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

My readers are amazing! Really you are!

I posted yesterday about having a bad day. All day long my friends and family reached out in every way they could. I got text messages checking on me. Picture mail of my favorite baby to give me a smile. There were Facebook comments and comments on my blog. 

Thanks...just thanks.

Being a step-mom can be really hard sometimes. I think I worry more about my words, actions and responses to my step-kiddos than I do with my flesh in blood. I have lost sleep worrying about how everyone is getting along. I worried about kiddos feeling they have lost their place in our family, life or the world. I worry about making sure I don't say anything that would be considered negative about their mom (even if I'm thinking it). I worry as all moms do but the worry is different for a step-mom.

After a good long cry yesterday, a blog post and a few fun pictures from my best friend of her beautiful baby, I felt much better. 

Blurry baby pic because he was laughing...the best medicine for a bad day ever.

It was still a very long, painful day. I couldn't really shake the feelings that had engulfed me earlier in the day. It was a fog hanging over me like Eeyore the donkey.

Then I read this in the few moments I was on Facebook posting my blog and just stopped to think how perfect it felt.

Did you know the people that are the strongest are usually the most sensitive? Did you knoe the people who exhibit the most kindness are the first to get mistreated? Did you know the one who takes care of others all the time are usually the ones who need it the most? Did you know the three hardest things to say are, "I love you," "I'm sorry," and "Help me". Sometimes just because a person looks happy, you have to look past their smile and see how much pain they may be in.

I think I have been strong for a long time. I think I have held my head high and tried to be positive. I think I care for everyone else first.

Then, I realize I'm a mess. I'm glad I'm a writer. I'm glad I blog. I'm glad I have someway to reach out and to express myself. 

It makes me realize there may be a lot of other people out their who don't write or blog. They may not know how to say how they are feeling. They don't know what to say or how to express it. I write in hopes you are reading this. I write so you know you are not alone. I write so I can get it off my chest so you know it's okay to do that. I write. That's what I can do. I don't always do it well and I don't do it often enough at times. I certainly let life get in the way of my writing. I often let way too much time go by without writing one word.

I'm not perfect and I don't try. 

Progress...that is my goal. I write because it helps me become a better woman, mother, wife, friend, daughter, sister, aunt and whatever other title I hold.

So once again...thank you. Thanks for listening. Thanks for commenting. Thanks for calling or texting or whatever you did to reach out. Thanks, just thanks.

Really, really bad days...

Did you ever wake up thinking you were going to have a good day and within an hour that wasn't the case? Hmmm, I did...

I'm over the stress and anxiety others bring to my life. I'm over the stress of money. I'm over the stress of kids needing this and that and well, I'm just over it.

Today is a bad day. A really, really bad day...

I live in a world that has nothing to do with me. That's okay, because that's called being a mom...but today, the step-mom stuff hurts.

What really gets to me is how often I have to pay for the actions of others with whom I have no and I mean NO relationship and I never will. I keep trying to teach my kiddos that there are times in life when we all have to pay a consequence for others' actions but right now I just wanna pitch a fit. I don't wanna learn a life lesson. I don't wanna! I DON'T WANNA!

Okay, breath in...and out.

I'm done. I've pitched my fit.

I love being a mom and wife. I love my kids and my husband. I love all the baggage that comes with this crazy, blended family. Somedays, I sit down to dinner and look around my family and I can't see anything but my family. It doesn't matter that they all have a different set of parents. It doesn't matter that they are 1/2 siblings or step siblings. We don't even use that word. In fact the dog is a sister too, really she is.

We're a family. All in one bunch. Crazy, different, and mostly happy family...

I want to close my eyes and pretend there is nothing beyond these walls of my home. I want to live in a world with just my family. I want to worry about the needs of the children who sit at my table and sleep in my home.

But this is not the truth for blended families.

We have people come in and out of our house. We have people who don't spend any time in our house and yet we are still responsible for them. Their needs usually take the priority over everyone else. We don't get a say. We don't have a voice. And really more than that, I don't have a voice.

The whoas of a step-mom are many today. I get to work hard for others to squander and make bad choices. I pick up the pieces that others' have broken. I pay the bills (or rather my husband does) for things I never see. I'm not considered a relevant party in making decisions regarding these kiddos, though I drive kiddos, and sacrifice and, and, and I thought I was like a mom...but oh by the way, the law says I'm not.

Somedays the kids hug me and I wonder what it would have been like to be their mom. I dream of a world where my hubby and I had kiddos together. Where we post pictures of ultrasounds and have a baby shower (and hubby doesn't want to come but does). Where we make lots of first memories together and I get to see the first time they smiled or laughed or rolled over. Were we lay in bed late at night with a toddler kicking us and climbing on us.

Mostly I'm glad I don't have babies or toddlers anymore. I love my mostly grown kiddos. They have been amazing to watch grow and they've matured so much. We have conversations like we're friends sometimes. I love hanging out with their friends and love taking them places to hang out with their friends.

But my hubby and I will never have a child together. We will never experience pregnancy as a couple. We will never get to pick a name together. We will never say, "I think she has my nose and your smile."

More than that, I'll never be mom to his kids.

They call me Renee...

I'm not their mom.

Like I said, it's a really, really bad day...

Okay, time to wipe away the tears. I love them and they love me. That really is enough and what really counts. Time to pick myself up and be mom. Even without the title, I still have to do my job...