Posted in Family, Parenting, Personal

When do we stop watching?

We were on our way to my oldest son’s last basketball banquet as a high schooler. I thought for sure I was going to cry, but my eyes stayed dry, even as his coach gave him major props for stepping up and becoming the man of the house. It was awesome hearing him recognized because I know what a great kid he is, and now others do too.

Okay. Got side tracked. On our way there, I pulled into a gas station and handed Q the money to pay/pump. A little girl with glasses was crossing across the parking lot and I heard her mother saying “Go now!” “Look both ways!”, all the normal things we parents have said since they were mobile.

And as I watched this anxious mom, watch her anxious daughter, it hit me. When did I stop looking? When did I trust them enough to walk across a parking lot without panicking, without watching their every step and releasing the breath I didn’t even know I was holding. 

Am I that… what’s the word I’m looking for… lax? B is 12 and should know how to cross the parking lot, but he does tend to just run and not look out. And he’s short, so I always worry about that, but I don’t watch anymore. And that scares the hell out of me.

Posted in Fibro, Parenting, Personal

Open Letter to Fibro

Good morning constant companion,

I know we had a rough night last night, we were actually asleep! That was until the kid’s TV show woke us up and I sent a text with one eye open to turn it down and rolled back over to cuddle with my froggie*.

And then it happened. I felt that unfortunate new tinge in back. My shoulders and neck was already slathered in numbing cream and while I thought this would be cruel and unusual punishment for the kid to get back at waking me up it was a school night and his room was dead quiet.

The heating pad! I had moved the heating pad into the room and the little one was at his dad’s house so I could use it freely without hearing a little angel  (demon) complaining about his aches and pains and feeling guilty if I say no, because I remember being called a hypochondriac at that age, because no one believed me when  I said I hurt.

So I turned it up to the highest setting we can tolerate now -low- and put The Holiday on my phone and again tried to fall asleep.

I finally got comfortable enough to sleep when my son’s alarm went off at 6:38am.

And I wanted to cry. Once again, we had so much to do. And once again, I texted him that I couldn’t safely drive, so take the car and I will stress my self tomorrow getting things done.

Fibro, I know we have been together for years now and each and every day you find a new way to surprise me. There have even been three times I have woken up with no pain during all this and I will forever be grateful for those times.

But you really need to go. Between the pain, depression, anxiety and now sleep paralysis on top of it; I’m done.

I’m done thinking that I am not good enough and I am done allowing people to make me feel as if I’m ‘pretending’ about this whole thing and could go run a marathon tomorrow if I wanted to.

I’m done waking up to painful swelling in an area that I NEVER hit/injured in anyway. It’s like being in a domestic violence relationship with yourself**. Constantly feeling as if you’ve been in a fight and honestly you have. With your own body.

I am over the heartbreak I feel when I have to tell my children no over something that seems so easy for me to do but I can’t.

I am over you.

You will not win, I will continue to fight, although I am exhausted from you. I will win.

Hasta baby,

*Yes, I sleep with a stuffed animal sometime. Don’t hate cause I’m adorbs!

**I realize that DV is not a joke, I am not joking. I am comparing this to my own personal hell I survived.

Posted in Family, Parenting

Man down

Last night, during an exciting basketball game, my oldest hurt his ankle. Again.

There where a slew of cuss words. From both of us. Again.

And I was given “helpful advice” from the basketball dad’s. Again.

It’s like the mechanic analogy only in sports!

“Hey there little lady, now I know you don’t understand how this all here works, but don’t you worry! I’ll be here to tell you all you need to  know.”

I have been a sport mom since my oldest could hold a ball of any kind (no pun intended). I’ve been lugging gear for the last 13 years of my life. 7 years pulling double duty.

I have been through two concussion, a broken hand, broken thumb, more ankle twists/sprains than I can count and that’s not including my own injuries from when I was able to run and jump and be a functioning human being.

So for this guy to continually interrupt me while I’m trying to figure out what’s best for my  kid was highly irritating. I know he was just trying to be helpful, but it goes back to the age old question: Would he have been so ‘helpful’ had I been a man?

The other basketball moms and I shared several exasperated looks between hints and then the game was over and we hightailed it out of there before I committed an assault, which would have done none of us any good.

We are now sitting in a ER room, waiting on xray results and praying that nothing is broken or there goes spring/summer ball and I will have one grouchy ass teenager on my hands.


No breaks! Just a very bad sprain

Posted in Family, Parenting, Writing (uncategorized)

Mom what’s love?

Baby boy asked me this question last week before we all got sick and I didn’t know how to answer it. I mean, it’s a bit different for everyone right? But after being so sick, he came up with his own definition:


Love is being up to still love me after throwing up all night and keeping you awake for days on end while you take care of me. Isn’t it mom?

Yes, it is kid. Yes, it is.