My Sock Drawer

I was a child of the 80s, and also a product of hippie parents. Well, sorta hippie parents-the part where they smoke pot, share everything, and hug trees. That's neither here nor there now, but it will make you understand this (maybe?):

I had socks in every damn color. And I layered them. Remember when we used to do that? I had hot pink, lime green, dark green, highlighter yellow (just to name a few)...and several different shades of black and white. I even had polka dot ones. I also had socks for every holiday-St. Patty's day, Halloween (they glowed in the dark), Thanksgiving, etc. I thought I was hot shit. Didn't we all?

My mother was young when she had me-23. So by the time I was in middle school, she was still smokin' hot and feeling like she was 18 inside (hell, I'm 30 and I still feel 17 or 18 inside; my damn body just shows me reality every morning when I groan out of bed!). We wore each other's clothes. And my mom? She always wore my socks. As a matter of fact, years later, after she had divorced my father and lived in another house, I had casually opened her sock drawer to borrow a pair, and found that she only had 4 or 5 pairs. All white.

My mom would come into my room every day and grab a pair of my socks. She would sometimes wear hot pink ones with jeans, just for the hell of it. It was not out of the question that she would wear this one dark green Christmas pair, with red bows and bells, in the middle of the summer, just to make us smile.

Every month or so, my mom would walk into my room and dump out my sock drawer. Right in the middle of my room. And she would announce that I needed to 'clean out' my sock drawer. I would groan and whine, but I came to expect it.

I was forced to match up all my socks and fold them into one another. I had to get rid of the ones worn thin from walking outside without shoes on. I sewed up the ones with little holes on the heel or toe. Then I organized them by color. After I was done, she would buy me a couple of new pairs. There came a time when I had to put the Christmas socks in the donation bag. And of course, there came a time when I didn't mind getting rid of those awful yellow socks.

All those years, I never realized my mother was teaching me a lesson, and preparing me for my future. She forced me to get rid of things I still liked, but in doing so, I learned to appreciate what I had. She forced me to realize that nothing lasts forever, but I learned that sometimes you have to let go of something to experience something new, different.

I am still trying to learn that lesson today, as I come to terms with leaving behind my past self, and my previous homes (that I still miss in little ways), and the way my marriage used to be. I am not always prepared, nor am I always happy with the changes, but I have come to accept them, and find peace and hope in the new that replace the old.

To all the muthas I know and love

For the mom that is still adjusting to now having two children, who is worn out, stretched thin, and guiltily wondering what the hell she was thinking to want a second child.
For the mom who juggles graduate school, three children, and handling the household, with very little support.
For the mom who has to live with the fact that her boys want to live with their father, not her, because she has a new baby with her current husband; who still loves them to pieces, and smiles when they talk about the fun they are having with their father.
For the mom who had her children about 13 months apart, who struggles with the constant inner turmoil that she will not be like her mother.
For the mom who protects and defends her child from her husband.
For the mom who works two jobs, sleeps very little, and does all she can to keep food on the table.
For the mom who just lost her adult daughter a few days ago, to complications of a surgery she was willing to die for.
For the mom who still regrets leaving behind her son when she left her marriage.....13 years ago; who regrets this, even though her son is now an adult, and is healthy and happy.
For the mom who endlessly cares for her sick parents, her terminally-ill brother, and her drug-ridden son, all on her own.
For the mom whose first child was diagnosed Autistic more than 3 years ago...who yearns for another child, but just had a miscarriage; who has never had the support from her husband about their son; who has never had a chance to openly cry about her baby boy's disorder.
For the mom who fell in love, and had a baby with her love; who is now single again, caring for two children, on her own, with a broken heart.
For the mom who struggled with motherhood from day one, and for many reasons, failed; who had the courage to admit to herself, and others, that she wasn't cut out to care for her children, and relinquished her parental rights, and freed them from serious neglect and danger.
For the mom who couldn't have a child naturally, who made the brave decision to adopt, who waited more than 15 months to finally be told that she is actually getting a child, who still doesn't know when she will lay hands on her baby girl.
For the mom who was able to have children naturally, and did, but lost one, and yearned for another; who practically begged her husband for the chance to adopt; who attempted to adopt a little boy who didn't want to be with her.....who doesn't have much hope that she will be able to convince her husband to try again.
For the mom who worried herself sick during her first pregnancy, only to give birth to a healthy baby girl; who has since had 3 miscarriages in the last 12 months; who is now coming to terms with the fact that she may never conceive another child.
For the mom who lost her children due to her drug addiction; who decided that her children were more important; who has been clean for over 3 years.
For the mom who struggles with her depression every day, and still manages to smile and care for her infant.
For the mom who doesn't notice the signs of her depression.
For the mom who worries she isn't doing enough, isn't doing good enough.

Your courage is remarkable. Your exhaustion is understandable. Your faults are minuscule.

Thank you for being the mommies you are.
::

Mom-
Thank you for being my mother. Thank you for your sense of humor, your silliness, your support, your stories. Thank you for sticking around when things got so tough for you. Thank you for making it through all your illnesses. Thank you for my brother and sister. Thank you for always listening to me, and for telling me what I need to hear, not what I want to hear. Thank you for teaching me patience and loyalty. Thank you for helping me become a good mother. Thank you for showing me the amazing amount of satisfaction I can get from helping others. Thank you for helping others. Thank you for helping me, and not judging me. Thank you for wearing your underwear inside out and for tripping over your own feet-you taught me how to laugh at my mistakes. Thank you for being you-it has taught me to be comfortable with me.
I love you.

DST and 'Who is my leaf fairy?'

I seriously have issues with Daylight savings time. I mean, I like it in theory, but not in practice. I am sooooo t.i.r.e.d. I am a night person, really not a morning person, and now I am one hour off. I can't seem to make my body understand that it is now 11:40pm, not 10:40pm, and that I will now be getting up an hour earlier, essentially, and it will still be dark out, which is okay, since it is light so much longer, and I love the fact that it stays light out until like 9pm in the summer, but then i stay up later, which makes me even more sleepy and prone to throwing my damn alarm clock across the room the next morning, making me late to work again, making me look like a lazy ass idiot who can't be responsible and get to work on time, which makes me feel dumb, and crabby, and i'm behind all day at work, so i work later to make up for that f-ing hour i overslept this morning, and then I get home later, and i feel guilty that my kid was with me one less hour today, so i let her stay up later, hence, i'm up later, and........
ack! it is just a f-ing mess!
and then i start run-on sentence typing. What a mess. What a hot mess, as my co-worker would say.
So really, why the hell do we do it? What really is the overall benefit of this shit? Someone help me out here, because I am sleeeeeepy but all jacked up. I feel like the VCR, flashing the wrong damn time.
Anyway, so.
I have not really introduced you to my mother yet. She is a gem. She is wonderful, and not just because she is my mom. I'll give you a brief rundown, just so you understand what I am going to tell you in a second. Here goes:
she is funny, great sense of humor, very positive for the most part, a smart ass, one of those fun women you can go get hammered with, she is sympathetic just when you need it, she will kick you in your ass when you really need it, she tells you both what you want to and need to hear, all at the same time, she is loving, she is giving, and...
she is a bit brain-damaged.
No. really.
She has suffered from a handful of strokes since I was about 12. So, she is a bit different or unique. But I love it.
So, she bought her first house this summer. Well, her first house since the first 'first house' she bought with my father back when they were married a long, long time ago. And it has been so exciting for her! We painted her living room, dining room, kitchen, and my sister's room, all within the first week of her moving in. My brother recently started some work on her flowerbeds, and she got a big dangerous trampoline put in her backyard. Yeah to home ownership!
So this winter, when all the leaves fell out of her big tree in the front yard, they seemed to pile up, all on their own, in the very center of her yard. Grace and I kicked leaves everywhere a number of times. Yet, every time I would go back over to her house, the leaves would be in a huge pile, centrally located, shall we say. I didn't really think anything of it.
But then, about a month ago, as my mother and I were trying to drag my daughter and sister into the house, my mom looked at me and said 'Where the f--- are all my leaves?'
Huh?
Uh, I promise I didn't take them. You can go check my yard-My trees have like 3 leaves put together, and my magnolia lost and re-grew leaves all on the same day in the Fall, so it totally wasn't me. Sheesh.
But then I look in her yard and realize she is right: there is not one single leaf in her front yard. Not one! No little strays lying on the steps, caught up in the bushes, in the flowerpots. Nada. Nothing. Zilch. Zero.
So we look on the sides of her house-nothing.
We look at the neighbors' yards on either side of her-nothing.
WTF?
Now, I promise I'll give you a story a month about my mother's sense of humor, so you get an idea of just how exciting it is to have her in my life, but for now, I just have to say that my mother and brother pull stunts on each other all the time. So she says 'Do you think Matt came and got rid of the leaves to see if I would notice?'
My brother lives in San Marcos, like 3 hours south of here. No, I don't think he did that. I wouldn't put it past him, but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't waste the gas on your f-ing leaves, mom.
Next question: 'Do you think your dad came and raked my leaves as a favor?'
I'm not even going to explain why this could possibly be an option. It's just too complicated, but no, it wasn't my dad either.
Next: 'Do you think the neighbors did it?'
Uh, no. They suck.
So, next: 'Did you take my leaves???'
Ackkkk! Please see my response above. I hardly have time to shower more than twice a week, let alone clean my entire house all in the same week. What makes you think I would have the spare f-ing time to wast on raking every damn leaf in your yard??? For fun??? For a laugh??
There are absolutely no leaves in her yard, and I am empty-handed, and out of explanations.
So, my mother tells me: 'I have a leaf fairy! How nice! I wonder who it is?'

I am utterly confused. Could someone please bring the leaves back? It is just too much of a mystery for my tired ass to figure out!!!!