Yes, it is a little weird to be posting a blog at 6:53 on our super annivesary weekend, but my body once again will not let me sleep in, so here I am trying to be useful in my awakened state, but also still and cozy under a blanket.
We went to the best place to eat last night. It is called "The Pearl". It's in downtown Missoula just off of Main Street. It is expensive, but so good, and the atmosphere was romantic *sigh*. We bought a bottle of wine (I wish I could remember exactly what it was because it was also quite nice) and somewhere into my second glass I became (per usual) very talkative. Seriously, if I was a double agent being interregated all that they would have to give me is a couple glasses of wine and the secrets would start spilling out. Fortunately for me, Derrick knows all my secrets (I think...) and actually he was feeling very chatty too, so the conversation was fun.
Somewhere towards the end of our meal, we started talking about our kids. I was telling Derrick about Kloe.
Most of the time our little daughter doesn't live on this planet. She is in her own little Kloe land where she makes banana's be her babies (they ARE easy to cradle in ones arms) and every inantimate object she finds has a voice. She is a girl who feels and acts out every little emotion that passes though her mind, making most of our time together very dramatic. Even in her oblivion however, she is so intuned with MY feelings. When I'm upset, she pats my arm and says,"Ah mom, it's okay(encouraging smile), it will be okay momma." When she is in trouble, even if it is from me, she still wants me. She needs to feel things are still alright between us, because right now I am her safety. I understand her only because my mom has always been that for me.
I was an intense little kid, very naughty most of the time. Who was the one that cared enough to chase me around the house (while I was screaming and raising a ruckus so the neighbors would get a good show) to give the spanking I so badly needed? My mom. Who was the one who always made sure I went to school and to meetings, even through all of the fake stomachaches and other avoidant techniques I dreamed up? Mom. Who always came into my room after any punishment to explain that she loved me enough to fight for me to be a good person? My mom.
When I was about 16, my world became very dark. I changed completely for a couple of years, doing every bad thing my mom had fought to keep me from, breaking her heart on a daily basis. She was in the middle of her own dark time. She had just discovered the tip of the health problems that would plague her down to this day. She also was going through a very hard depression in the middle of raising her last two (very difficult) teenagers. She still fought for me. Every night I didn't come home, she was waiting for me and not once did she act like what I was doing was okay by her. I don't know how many nights she held me while I was in the middle of my inner turmoil. She had the right answers for me, but I couldn't hear her. That didn't make her stop reasoning with me. She once asked me where the Rachel she had raised was. I told her that girl was dead, and this was who was left. She said,"I don't believe that Rachel. You are right there. You will be back." I didn't believe her, but here I am. She has always fought for me. She has always been a light in my dark times, and she always has drawn out the best in me. She has always been the source of safety that I can cling to when I am afraid.
Someday Kloe might break my heart. I will fight for her, just like my mom fought for me, and I will fight for my mom too. That is what I love about my mother and daughter (and my sister, my neices, all the women in my life who share their hearts with me). The love we have for eachother is upbuilding. It is also ruthless and uncompromising when it comes to keeping eachother safe and whole. It makes us feel open to new possibilities and free to be who we really are, because we know no matter what, we are supported and loved. Thank goodness we have eachother.
We went to the best place to eat last night. It is called "The Pearl". It's in downtown Missoula just off of Main Street. It is expensive, but so good, and the atmosphere was romantic *sigh*. We bought a bottle of wine (I wish I could remember exactly what it was because it was also quite nice) and somewhere into my second glass I became (per usual) very talkative. Seriously, if I was a double agent being interregated all that they would have to give me is a couple glasses of wine and the secrets would start spilling out. Fortunately for me, Derrick knows all my secrets (I think...) and actually he was feeling very chatty too, so the conversation was fun.
Somewhere towards the end of our meal, we started talking about our kids. I was telling Derrick about Kloe.
Most of the time our little daughter doesn't live on this planet. She is in her own little Kloe land where she makes banana's be her babies (they ARE easy to cradle in ones arms) and every inantimate object she finds has a voice. She is a girl who feels and acts out every little emotion that passes though her mind, making most of our time together very dramatic. Even in her oblivion however, she is so intuned with MY feelings. When I'm upset, she pats my arm and says,"Ah mom, it's okay(encouraging smile), it will be okay momma." When she is in trouble, even if it is from me, she still wants me. She needs to feel things are still alright between us, because right now I am her safety. I understand her only because my mom has always been that for me.
I was an intense little kid, very naughty most of the time. Who was the one that cared enough to chase me around the house (while I was screaming and raising a ruckus so the neighbors would get a good show) to give the spanking I so badly needed? My mom. Who was the one who always made sure I went to school and to meetings, even through all of the fake stomachaches and other avoidant techniques I dreamed up? Mom. Who always came into my room after any punishment to explain that she loved me enough to fight for me to be a good person? My mom.
When I was about 16, my world became very dark. I changed completely for a couple of years, doing every bad thing my mom had fought to keep me from, breaking her heart on a daily basis. She was in the middle of her own dark time. She had just discovered the tip of the health problems that would plague her down to this day. She also was going through a very hard depression in the middle of raising her last two (very difficult) teenagers. She still fought for me. Every night I didn't come home, she was waiting for me and not once did she act like what I was doing was okay by her. I don't know how many nights she held me while I was in the middle of my inner turmoil. She had the right answers for me, but I couldn't hear her. That didn't make her stop reasoning with me. She once asked me where the Rachel she had raised was. I told her that girl was dead, and this was who was left. She said,"I don't believe that Rachel. You are right there. You will be back." I didn't believe her, but here I am. She has always fought for me. She has always been a light in my dark times, and she always has drawn out the best in me. She has always been the source of safety that I can cling to when I am afraid.
Someday Kloe might break my heart. I will fight for her, just like my mom fought for me, and I will fight for my mom too. That is what I love about my mother and daughter (and my sister, my neices, all the women in my life who share their hearts with me). The love we have for eachother is upbuilding. It is also ruthless and uncompromising when it comes to keeping eachother safe and whole. It makes us feel open to new possibilities and free to be who we really are, because we know no matter what, we are supported and loved. Thank goodness we have eachother.
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