What a year.
I thought that being a leap year, 2008 would hold some auspicious power to become a great memorable year. Well, it was certainly memorable. It was the year I woke up.
I started living again in 2008. I decided to get the Lap Band operation. I lost close to 70 lbs. I found my mojo. I got a masters degree. I regained the confidence in my talents I lost so long ago. I remembered who I was. I bought clothes I liked. I started wearing heels, again. I achieved clarity of vision, and even more drive. I began my exorcism of personal demons.
Every light has a dark. 2008 saw my grandfather's death and my grandmother's serious health decline. It shed light on a rift between A and I. I realized how much I had to work on having the relationship with N I really wanted. And let's not even begin on how hard it was to follow the instructions for the lap band and that whole journey.
I have high hopes for 2009. Concretely, I have a goal of losing another 70 lbs. I will work on making exercise a part of my life. I want to establish a tighter and more trusting relationship with N. I want to have a better marriage with A. I want to say what I mean and mean what I say more often. I want to have more fun. I want to make more meaningful friendships.
I'm a little nervous about 2009, mainly because I bid on my next assignment in the fall. I have reached the limit on domestic assignments and must go overseas in 2010. I hope to make good choices, and more importantly, I hope the decision-makers don't screw me and do send me somewhere it will be fulfilling for me, for A, and for N.
Molon Labe is a greek phrase that means "Come and get it." That's what the Spartan King Leonidas told King Xerxes at the battle of Thermopylae, the famous battle "300."
So 2009, come and get it. I am definitely ready.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
N, 36 months later...
Happy Birthday N! Amor est vitae essentia!
This last weekend was N's B-day weekend. She turns 3 today. 3 years ago all of my priorities, attention, focus, and energy became directed to one little girl. One little screaming, writhing, pooping female Homo sapiens. I couldn't believe people did this all the time, have children and raise them and keep their sanity.
N, I'm learning I can't make you into something you are not. I can't mold you into what I want. Just like you could not turn me into something I am not. Separation starts at birth and grows constantly. I obsess whether every single thing I say to you, make you do, do with you, will harm you or enhance you. I'm still trying to find my way as a mom, trying to fight all harmful stereotypes that people have of perfect mothers. And I'll be honest, I resist it. Because I don't want to be defined as being someone's mom. I am who I am, who also happens to be a mom. We are not perfect. The faster you learn that I'm not, and that I make mistakes just like you, the less disappointments you'll get out of life. Yes, some mothers work, and enjoy what they do, and don't want to stop doing it because they have a baby. They feel they have to come first in order to provide the best emotional lessons they can to their children. Not that I wouldn't chop off my arm for you if I thought that would save you from some horrible experience. But shit happens. Learn to handle it the best way possible. Learn that making the best decisions help you make the most out of sour lemons.
You bring me surprises just like you bring me frustrations. There is not one day that passes that I don't think of something with you in it. Somedays I just want you to not be so difficult, other days I can't wait for you to put your head on my shoulder and give me kisses. Some days you are not nice at all, and those days I spend hours thinking where I went wrong, and what else I could do to teach you to be nice. But some days I'm proud that you don't take crap from anybody and if someone doesn't like you the way you are, tough, they can live with it.
The best part of this B-day weekend with you was sharing it together. You helped me pick out your cake, you chose your balloons, you told me who you wanted at your party. You were much more of an active participant, and guess what, you handled it beautifully. You have impeccable taste, and that comes from your mother...
I've made an effort to make your birthday a completely separate event from Christmas, hence saving you from the "Christmas-baby" curse. But truth is, it's a very chaotic time for me to coordinate everything from Thanksgiving, which every year brings lots of guests, different every year, to your birthday, Christmas, new year's, Three Kings (on Jan 6th), ending with my birthday on Jan 16th. I wish I could split it up and celebrate our birthdays in the summer, when it's warm and there's tons of things to do outside.
N, you're three now. I no longer have a baby, I have a preschooler. If I pass anything on to you before I die, I want you to understand this: you must enjoy life. Even the difficult times have their humor, in their own Murphymistic sort of way. You must cultivate your joie de vivre, because you naturally have it, genetically from me, in order to get the most benefit from this gift. And N, I will help you along the way...
This last weekend was N's B-day weekend. She turns 3 today. 3 years ago all of my priorities, attention, focus, and energy became directed to one little girl. One little screaming, writhing, pooping female Homo sapiens. I couldn't believe people did this all the time, have children and raise them and keep their sanity.
N, I'm learning I can't make you into something you are not. I can't mold you into what I want. Just like you could not turn me into something I am not. Separation starts at birth and grows constantly. I obsess whether every single thing I say to you, make you do, do with you, will harm you or enhance you. I'm still trying to find my way as a mom, trying to fight all harmful stereotypes that people have of perfect mothers. And I'll be honest, I resist it. Because I don't want to be defined as being someone's mom. I am who I am, who also happens to be a mom. We are not perfect. The faster you learn that I'm not, and that I make mistakes just like you, the less disappointments you'll get out of life. Yes, some mothers work, and enjoy what they do, and don't want to stop doing it because they have a baby. They feel they have to come first in order to provide the best emotional lessons they can to their children. Not that I wouldn't chop off my arm for you if I thought that would save you from some horrible experience. But shit happens. Learn to handle it the best way possible. Learn that making the best decisions help you make the most out of sour lemons.
You bring me surprises just like you bring me frustrations. There is not one day that passes that I don't think of something with you in it. Somedays I just want you to not be so difficult, other days I can't wait for you to put your head on my shoulder and give me kisses. Some days you are not nice at all, and those days I spend hours thinking where I went wrong, and what else I could do to teach you to be nice. But some days I'm proud that you don't take crap from anybody and if someone doesn't like you the way you are, tough, they can live with it.
The best part of this B-day weekend with you was sharing it together. You helped me pick out your cake, you chose your balloons, you told me who you wanted at your party. You were much more of an active participant, and guess what, you handled it beautifully. You have impeccable taste, and that comes from your mother...
I've made an effort to make your birthday a completely separate event from Christmas, hence saving you from the "Christmas-baby" curse. But truth is, it's a very chaotic time for me to coordinate everything from Thanksgiving, which every year brings lots of guests, different every year, to your birthday, Christmas, new year's, Three Kings (on Jan 6th), ending with my birthday on Jan 16th. I wish I could split it up and celebrate our birthdays in the summer, when it's warm and there's tons of things to do outside.
N, you're three now. I no longer have a baby, I have a preschooler. If I pass anything on to you before I die, I want you to understand this: you must enjoy life. Even the difficult times have their humor, in their own Murphymistic sort of way. You must cultivate your joie de vivre, because you naturally have it, genetically from me, in order to get the most benefit from this gift. And N, I will help you along the way...
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