Mother Knows Best (and I've been called a mutha...)

After the kiddos hit the sack last night, I roamed my Blogger dashboard and rediscovered my former blog. For no identifiable reason, I read the posts. Perhaps such nostalgia should have been saved for the daylight hours. Well, live and learn.

One of the posts from May 2008 announces a trip to California to accompany my then ailing mum to various medical appointments. I remember knowing that something was terribly wrong with her and believing that the solution was as simple as an accurate diagnosis.

Skip ahead to the next post, a month and a half later. I composed it 8 hours before my mom died. As I reread my words, everything flooded back--worry, anger, resentment, and above all else, fear. And my fight-or-flight reflexes kicked in. Here I am, years later, Pandora's Box open wide. Last night, every muscle raged to kick things, scream, call my mum's doctors to remind them of what I've lost.

But one thing that 36 years with my mum plus 2 1/2 years without her have taught me is that sometimes your first instinct could be entirely wrong. Everything looks different in the natural light so it may be best to step back and really analyze the situation. I took a scalding-hot shower and thought that if it's 1 A.M. here, then it's only 11 P.M. in California, so it wouldn't do any good to call the hospital with my rants because I probably wouldn't be waking anyone up (never mind that the offices were closed, anyway). And what's the point of a middle-of-the-night rant if you're not making someone on the other end miserable?

Today is sunny and cool, the air is fairly still. Basically, it's a perfect day in Texas, providing what Mum would agree is the perfect light. Everyone looks amazing and perfect on a day like today and troubles, well, it's much easier to remember that they're temporary. Everything is.

It's over 12 hours since my "episode." I spent the morning having coffee with two of the most amazing women I have the privilege to know, followed by an hour of listening to my boy's school rave about how fantastic he is. Yes, I'm still miffed about my mum getting the shaft, but she promised me that everything would be fine, and she was right.

Same blog, six months later, exactly two years ago from today... I declared the Year of Michelle. At the time, I figured that if I could make myself a "better" person and make good things happen for myself, good things would happen for others around me as a result. I've spent two years stage-hopping through grief, while the Year of Michelle took a backseat to other priorities.

But without even trying, things have changed for me. My family and I have shared around a zillion laughs, my kiddos reached milestones, I've become kinder and less judgmental, and I have a much closer relationship with my dad. I've overcome my fear of singing in public (well, sort of), become more fiscally responsible, read some of the best strings of written words, and found a way to pay homage to the females who mean everything to me.

So really, Year of Michelle rolls on. I'll continue to hammer out power ballads on my drums, drive like the old lady in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, alert people who have food between their teeth or toilet paper from their shoes, and marvel at how a smartass like me has such sweet, helpful, disciplined, well-rounded kiddos.

One more task is added to the mix. I will no longer take peaceful moments for granted. It's one thing to notice a pretty flower when you're walking past it, but it's quite another to actually stop and smell it. So I challenge you to do the same. Every now and then, just stop to consider that everything is actually okay. And if it isn't, then it will be. I assure you of this because my mum told me so.

Forward Motion

I have fallen off the yarn-diet wagon so hard, that I've finally quit the yarn diet. Wait, that's a bit of an exaggeration. Yes, I have bought yarn, but it wasn't a haul like the good ol' days of Mum and me, and yarn petting gone wild. But these mini binges have become cause for concern in their own rite. When I started this yarn diet, I would occasionally slip and buy yarn, then beat myself up over the purchase and vow to begin the diet again immediately. Here's my conclusion: I work hard and sometimes I want yarn. Once I buy yarn, it's done. I've bought yarn and I can't time travel to make it not happen. Therefore, why should I continue to beat myself up about it, especially when I practice moderation and restraint when I do buy, right? This isn't a bad thing--it really isn't. Really. It isn't a bad thing.

For a minute, I believed that it would be in my best interest to cease buying yarn until Kid 'n Ewe in November. Geez, I still have some Brooks Farm that I bought a year and a half ago that sits around and waits to be knitted or petted. But I cannot lie. I miss my mum terribly, and lately I've felt on the cusp of desperation. I don't have the crying spells (which I can't even force, even if it would seem in my best interest), but I still feel like a lost little kid. Anyway, while I was interviewing various sock yarns at Hill Country Weavers last Thursday, it occurred to me that when I feel desperate to reach out for my mum, I buy yarn. It doesn't actually work; I don't feel like she is standing beside me when I do this. However, it's just what I do. So, if I'm already feeling like complete shit because I want my mommy, then why add to the feelings of despair by scolding myself for buying yarn? Nope, it just doesn't make any sense. Besides, when I look at the buget, I'm not spending a lot on yarn. Really. I'm not. By the way, I hired a skein of Dream in Color Smooshy and a skein of Misti Alpaca sock yarn; they're in training.

Through all the craziness that is 2009, Year of Michelle has taken a backseat. I contemplated this as I took a walk through the 'hood this evening. It's time to get back on track with this mutha. So here goes. Today, I am establishing a few goals for the week. I can do almost anything for a week. *Ahem*:

1. Write down everything I eat and drink, as well as any formal exercise I do. Boy, I've been a slacker in this department, but research indicates that written accountability improves one's odds for weight-loss success. I'm not one to argue with the data.
2. Practice drum rudiments daily, for a minimum of 20 minutes. I have a practice pad, so really, there is no excuse.
3. Finish something. I have a sweater that I knit over a year ago that needs to be steam blocked and stitched, another sweater that I need to put the buttons onto and block...You get the picture.
4. Clear out three boxes from my crazy craft room. This will actually be the most difficult.