A Demanding Road Ahead...

Being someone's mother is a huge responsibility. I always thought that when women have babies it's exciting and it'll be so rewarding in the end. I still believe that. But I never really thought about how a baby right before my own eyes would evolve into a young child.

I went to a baby shower for my future sister in law, Kristen. She had many people there from mainly her fiance's side. He has a very large family and there are many aunties and cousins to get to know. There were a couple of young kids there. I hate to say this, but at a certain point there comes a time when a child just gets annoying. Always asking questions and needing attention, their mother's attention all of the time. A baby can't speak, it cries and sleeps. But a child can nanner on and on and on forever if he felt up to it. I find that these kids are a handful and all babies no matter how cute they are, turn into that eventually. Having children is a huge deal and I've always known that, but moreso now. But I admire Kristen so much for having her baby boy. She is a young mother, just turning twenty two a few weeks ago. She has a lot on her plate for basically the rest of her life. A baby turns into that nose picking eight year old, demanding attention. And the eight year old turns into a young teen desperate to be old enough to stay out past 10:00. That teen graduates, hopefully, and still needs attention and love from his parents. I still need my parents to this day and I'm almost twenty. Raising a child doesn't end at 18 like it is often said to. It never does. Having a baby isn't just having a baby, it is having a human being that depends on me forever, until the day that I die and even after that as well.

I salute young women that decide to have those babies that are slowly developing in their tummies. Kristen was surprised to find last year that she was one of those girls that just happened to be pregnant, and not having planned it. There are a lot of those these days. She owned up to her responsiblility of a woman and held her head high and let that belly grow. Despite what her own parents felt and others too I am sure. She was strong and stuck to it, even after finding out that her future baby boy had complications. She remained courageous and took care of herself and her son. She made sure to eat properly to ensure that he would be receiving the proper nutrients, fighting the cravings to eat badly. (She said she didn't have many, but I don't believe her.)

March 15, 2005 Kristen gave birth to a healthy, wide-eyed baby boy, Drake. He was transported to another hospital across the city for his very first operation. Drake was surrounded by tubes and machines beeping and buzzing. Kristen stayed confident that things would improve and they did. She finally held her baby boy a few weeks after his arrival. He was home in a little less than a month I believe, healthy and quite happy I am sure.

I admire Kristen for being such a wonderful woman through all of this. She did happen to go through much of it on her own, which wasn't easy. But not once did I hear her complain. It was her life now, Drake first, Kristen second. Now she's raising a wonderful little boy. The expressions on his face show his changing moods. His most common noises are grumbling and the sounds of him sucking on his bottle. I love him already and I can't imagine Kristen's love for him, having been with him everyday since he was born. Even though I am not Drake's true aunty, I am welcomed like I am by Kristen and everyone else. It's an amazing feeling, holding a little baby in my arms. As I feed him, it seems as though he stares into my soul. I have no idea how a baby does that, but he really does. Kristen is a strong woman and evidentally Drake has inherited that from her.

The View From My Backyard

Windex OR Back-Pack??

Lately I feel like all I ever do is work. But I am sure many people feel this way. Most people, who am I kidding? Now I used to love to wait tables but now I find that I don't enjoy the public so much. So now I work as a housekeeper at the Best Western. At first people look at me and tell me that I am better than that and I don't need to clean up after people. My question is; who then deserves to clean up after filthy, disgusting, nasty, stinky men and their numerous wenches that they bring home from the bar? Really, who really deserves that kind of work? No one, that's who. But like everyone says, somebody's got to do it. And so that is where my lovely self comes in. Each day, with my hair pulled back, and my "bib" Paul likes to call it. It's my uniform, that is so poorly made, it's embarrassing to wear at times. All the time. I come to work, sometimes on time, usually a few minutes later than the rest. No one minds, because I have to clean toilets and who really wants to yell at a person for being late fully aware that that very person has a good four hours of pube removing, as I like to call it. Ohh, the beauty of housekeeping. The question really is; why do I do it, for the pittance I receive? For some reason, I enjoy cleaning. It's a great way to relieve stress.

Today for instance, I was rather hung over from a night full of events. When I woke this morning, I felt like a piece of gum chewed by a bum laying in the streets of Toronto. But once I started making beds and windexing mirrors, I felt great. I like my job. It's petty and simple, but hey so am I. I thought about my friends in university and college in far away lands and I wondered if I would be happier if I too chose that expected path. For awhile I actually stressed over that very question and now I don't regret anything. No regrets. Life in my small town with one boyfriend and one or two friends that still live here, was all I needed this year. After highschool, after all the dramatic events such as prom and graduation I realized that life can be a whole lot simpler. Do I really need to go to some college for something I don't really want? Do I need to prove to this town that I am better than everyone else because I left at the first chance that I got? No. Trends. Highschool is full of them, and life is even more jam packed with them. It seems to me that University and College have turned into trends. It's important to go yes, but make sure that it's for the right reasons and the right reasons only.

I have a lot of time to ponder my thoughts as I vacuum and dust night-stands. I think about anything and everything that my mind will allow me to. I love thinking. It's therapeutic and makes a person wiser. I also don't mind walking in on the odd naked man in his room either. No I actually really don't like bursting through the door shouting, "Housekeeping!" and finding a poor, surprised man laying with his blankets off, naked. It's rather embarrassing for both of us. Especially when that very man runs into me a few times before he checks out forever. It's all part of the housekeeping experience. Waterspots, dirty floors, stained sheets and naked men.

I trust my choices because I figure by now I seem to know what I am doing. At least that's how I feel today. Who knows how I'll be feeling tomorrow...

Energizer Mummy

Everyone has a mom. They may not know her, they may hate her, they may think the world of her... the list of possibilities are endless. For me, my mom is everything to me. I know that in a mother's womb, a child is said to bond the most with his mother. But I find now, in struggling times, I bond with her the most.

Kim, such a simple, somewhat dull name doesn't serve my mom justice. Yet, she gives the name Kim more meaning just by being who she is. My mom truly is amazing. She has had a tough life yet she's always smiling. She's positive and is always concerned with everyone else around her. Which can pose a problem. She is walked on, and has been all of her life. My mom will always think of others, even in times when it is her that is in desperate need of attention. When my dad was in the hospital slowly giving in to the cancer, she wanted to make sure that all of the family was okay and taken care of. Even though she was the one in the most pain of all; losing her one and only. She has been through a divorce with my real dad and had to raise three kids all on her own. Her childhood..? Aren't they all screwed up in some form or another? Other's more difficult to overcome than most. Yet she's somewhat like the 'Energizer Bunny'... she just keeps going and with each difficulty in her life... makes her go even harder and stately as ever.

She's my rock, as I've mentioned before. She survives and with that, inspires those around her to do the same. My mom and I are a lot alike in many ways. Before when I was in the snotty, teen stages, that would ignite many arguements. But now it seems to have rendered us closer together. In a sense, we , as in the two of us are in a seperate family of our own. I say this because I feel that we have gone through the very most together, out of anyone else I have been encountered with in my life. My brother and sister may not agree with me, but it seems that way to me. They have been through the same and most definetly more than I have because they were older when my parents were divorced. Yet, I still feel because I am the youngest and still live at home with my mom, that we are going through the very most we might ever have to in our lives at this very point. The loss of a husband, and the loss of the best dad I'll ever know, all under the same roof. I must admit, it's hectic and at times rather depressing here. But it is making me stronger. It is shaping the person that I am becoming. With that, I can't hate what has happened... If this hadn't happened, I wouldn't be who I am today and will be tomorrow.

My mom is who she is because of what she has endured in her life. She is my angel, the person I want to become as I grow into the woman I will be...

My Mom

Me and my dad when I was teeny.. 

If Heaven Had A Phone Number...

Today I feel sad. I live day by day, but I can't hide the fact that a piece of me is gone. My dad. I joke about death and how I wish I could phone him in heaven to ask him where things were. But in all honestly, it's not really all that funny. It's much like me; sad. I long for his presence, his voice today. One hug, one smile... anything. All I have now are memories and photographs. I am so afraid that he is going to fade away in my mind and I won't remember what his hands looked like, or how he laughed.
I hate crying. I hate it so much. I know that crying is natural but I know that it doesn't help and only makes me feel sorry for myself. I don't want to have people feel sorry for me. Yet, when I hear about people losing their loved ones I always remember feeling so badly for them. Not being able to imagine what it would be like, to lose someone so close to me.
All of the days that are beautiful and sunny remind me of him. He always loved to lay out in the driveway on a lawn chair in the heat, tanning. Even in October, if the sun was shining he'd be out there, in shorts sun tanning. Hilarious. Now it's memories like that, which I cling onto so dearly, afraid, unable to let go. How do you let go? Are you supposed to, in order to move on?
I hate thinking that my dad isn't alive. He's dead. So now what? Who do I go to for all the things that my dad took care of? He was always just there. I never really took the time to sit back and think, wow what a guy. I just avoided him whenever he'd come home from work. I'd step aside and let him and mom hang out and talk about their day in peace. Strange how that works now that I think back to it. Did I do that because some part of me knew that they didn't have a lot of time together? Or did I do that because I felt like I had better things to do? I am not sure. I am not sure about many things. I am just sad.
If Heaven had a phone number I would phone him everyday so I could remember his voice forever...

Write On With It...

Writing is my passion. I love getting my thoughts down on paper, it has helped me get through a lot of issues in my life. Nine years ago I bought a notebook and decided that day that I was going to faithfully write a page everyday about how my day was, or how I was feeling, etc. I haven't stopped with my journal. I miss a day, but I go back and write what happened that very day. I have 15 notebooks full of my feelings and thoughts since I was in grade four. I haven't really looked back on too many of those endless pages...but I will one day. Memories will just flow through me with each page I read.
I am looking forward to one day writing a book. I have experienced many things in my life and I have very interesting material to contribute to the hopeful masterpiece. Since I was a little girl I have always proclaimed that I was going to be a famous author when I grew up. To this day, I still want to be a successful writer. I have all of the faith in myself but it's just getting to it. I write down all kinds of little filler ideas that don't have a lot to do with the story line itself. But I haven't quite figured out who I want to be the main character, what might happen, etc. One day it will come to me just not yet I guess. But when it does, I hope to be successful and have created a brilliant novel that will intrigue and excite my readers. Until then... I am going to keep up this roller coaster ride of a life and continue on getting great material for my future book.

The Sun Is Finally Shining On Us

What a messed up place the world is. One minute everything is going just fine, except for minor complaints about the weather, boredom, etc. But these things are so minor they don't even matter really, in the scheme of things. Death. Boom. Bites a person in the ass hard. Death. What do you do? How do you cope? People don't think that they know how they could survive once it hits and affects them. But they do. Survive. That's about the only encouragement you really get. Live because time does not stop because of death. It may feel like it and time, lots of time will go by before anyone notices really. It's only been a month and a half since my dad died. And it feels like it just happened in a sense and in another way, it seems like it was such a long time ago. I never believed that my family would be able to cope with something like this. But here we are today... My brother is back home visiting. Everyone's sitting out in the backyard like the big guy would've wanted us to. We're enjoying this gorgeous, breath taking day that he has created for us. I feel safe in the dark. I know he's there watching over our house, over each and everyone of us individually. Once a person dies, only their body dies. But their spirit truly lives on.... It really does. He's everywhere. I can tell he's around because we're all doing well, considering our circumstances. My mom, wow is she ever heart broken, but she's a rock. She's not a victim but a survivor. That's how I continue on being happy and enjoying wonderful days like this; I survive. We finally can see the sun... the beautiful weather... because nothing can stop us.

Day One

Well this is officially my first Blog entry. I am a newcomer. It's sort of like kindergarden when I wasn't quite sure what to expect.... Sort of, of course. Why is it that there are so many things going on in my head but once I have a chance to share them I can not. I don't usually have a problem with sharing my feelings on paper. But I am not used to the fact that it is accessable for others to read. Not only are others reading my thoughts, but strangers rather. Interesting. And not polite interesting, but actual genuine interest. It is peculiar how people say that word, and never truly mean it; interesting. It's almost just something a person is expected to say in a sense. My marigolds are blossoming.. A person may respond with an interesting. But is he really interested? Just some food for thought.