Thursday, April 23, 2015

We have a fundraiser!

Just on the off chance that someone might be reading this who isn't on my social media, I wanted to share this here too. We have set up a YouCaring online fundraising account to help defer some of the cost of going to CA to see a top expert TN neurosurgeon. Ill continue to post updates there if you are interested in the details. Any amount of help we can get can alleviate some of the burden this whole thing places on our family. It's a step in the direction we feel like we should at least pursue right now. Thank you so much for all your love, support and understanding. Some of you have been reading this blog since 2007! It's been a crazy ride thus far! Thanks for being my traveling companions.:) And feel free to share this fundraiser thing far and wide. Please! Thank you!

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

NPM: Poem #7

Well, I'm feeling a bit discouraged by the lack of feedback on the last poems I've posted, so I probably won't continue this little project. I'm not in a good enough head space to post my silly poems and not get any response, as dumb as that might be. Which I probably should have already known and anticipated before I even started, which would have reminded me that this wasn't a good idea for me right now to do this. But yeah, I guess I didn't. 
But anyway here's one more, at least. Semi recent. Written from bed on a bad day. 

ticking by 
and here I am 
still here
still here 
going by 
and here I am 
still here 
still here 
I haven't moved 
barely breathed 
still here
still this 
It never leaves 
Here I am 
breathe in 
breathe out 
breathe in 
It's all I do
My life 
passing by 
I watch it go 
and here I am
still here 
still here 
still here 

Sunday, April 5, 2015

National Poetry Month: poem #6

This is one of my all time favorites. It comes to mind often. I guess I have struggles in keeping perspective... ;) 

Walking Backwards 
by Kristen 

retracing every step
slowly, slowly
I know I left it here
where did I have it
going back in time
trying to remember
just where it is
I left it.
Stumbling slowly
walking backwards
searching in every place, every corner
trying to find, discover
where it is that
I lost

Saturday, April 4, 2015

National Poetry Month: Poem #5 Easter

On Easter Sunday, I thought I'd share this poem with you. It's inspired by the bible story of The Prodigal Son, which is a story of returning Home, turning away from sin and being welcomed again with open arms. And that, to me, is the story of Easter. That because of Jesus Christ and what He did for us, we can return home again. We can be forgiven for any wrong we have done. We can be healed. We are always loved and always welcomed to our Father's arms. This is what I believe. Happy Easter. 

by Kristen 

when you come, I will
put on the bandages
and I will bring you soup
in bed and I won't ask
you where you've been and
how you've become so
worn and wounded
Just come home and I will
help you heal
Come to me and I will love

National Poetry Month: Poems #2, #3, #4

How about some more poems for National Poetry Month? I think I'm going to shoot for 30 poems this month - we'll see! 

 I've been miserable with a combination of a possible cold and allergies this past week so these 3 seem apropos. I guess my allergies were a recurring theme in my poetry.;) 

(Also I can't decide if I want to divulge when I wrote stuff. I don't know if I want people to speculate too much about what I was writing about, so I'm thinking maybe I'll just keep the dates to myself. Leave you guessing. Maybe it will be obvious which ones are more recent, as I hope maybe I've matured a little bit since middle school. But maybe not. Hahaha). 

Hope you enjoy these! 

Self-Esteem During Allergy Season 

By Kristen 

it's more than make-up
and hairstyle and shoes
it's more than confidence
and clothes
It's hard to feel good
about what I possess
when it's all dripping
out of my nose.

DRIP (Lamentation of a Sneezer)

By Kristen 

Don't you sometimes
want to let your
nose just drip
and drip
without even trying to sniffle it
or catch it
with a well-worn, well-used
crumpled, torn and disgusting
Don't you sometimes
want to let it
when no one else it around
(after all,
who's to know?)
when your nose is red
and raw
and sore
and it feels like it's going to
at any minute
oh, how much better it would
be to let it drip
than to go through the
of wiping it.

by Kristen 

Just call me sneezy
and I’ll share my life with you
I sneeze and wheeze and sniffle and cough
the whole entire day through
Just give me a bunch of tissues
and I’ll give you a thought to think
I promise you I’ll use them up
before you have time to wink
“Bless you!” “Bless you!” “Gesundheit!”
good grief
all the blessings in the world
won’t bring me my relief
So I sneeze and wheeze and sniffle and cough
the entire day through
while you bless me to your hearts content
and feel glad this isn’t you
So give me boxes of tissues for Christmas
I’ll be very happy
watch my nostrils quiver and queasy
have a nice day
just call me sneezy.

Friday, April 3, 2015

Poetry Month

So I became aware that April is National Poetry Month! Whee what fun. And I've just sort of decided that I would post some of my poetry for you all in celebration. Yay for you! I don't claim to be a wonderful poet but, I guess you couild say I was known in the High School Literary Magazine as a prolific poet. In other words, whatever I may lack in quality, I make up for in quantity. At least I used to. Now I write less frequently. But anyway. To start off, here is one of my more recent ones. I have been struggling a lot lately, feeling stuck in a rather dark spot. I don't really feel like expounding much more than that.
But here it is (kind comments very much appreciated!! please let me know someone is reading this):

Waiting through the dark
by Kristen

I guess I cannot be rushed
I can't be forced
I cannot.
Although all I see is darkness
all I feel is pressure
all I am is small
and closed
and cold.
When the time is right
I will feel it
I will begin to push my
way upward
through dark, still, damp
I will feel myself begin to reach
towards warmth
and light
and freedom,
where I will be bright
and lovely
and good.
I will be.
I feel it.
But I cannot be rushed.
I cannot be forced.
In my time . . .
I trust it,
I will be more than I am right now.
More than just a seed
here in the darkness,
I will grow.
I will become.
I will wait here in darkness,
For spring.

Saturday, February 7, 2015

Your Story, My Story

"But behind all your stories 
is always your mother's story,
 because hers is where yours began.” 
- Mitch Albom

It's an interesting thing having your kids grow up. It's been mostly a good thing for me. I don't really pine for the days when my kids were little. Oh, they were so squishy adorable and I loved it. But it was also very very hard. I am mostly just very happy that my children are all potty trained and sleep through the night and can talk to me in complete sentences (most of the time). And they can take their baths and showers by themselves and most of them do it without prodding! They can get their own food when they need to, and can get their homework done mostly unassisted. Honestly, I can't imagine dealing with the constant pain I have now with my kids any younger than they were when this started. Although it threw me for a major loop and put some major kinks in the plans I had for this stage of my life (and continues to do so), I am nothing short of grateful that Elisabeth was starting kindergarten when my pain started and that I wasn't responsible for anyone's care full time.

But this is an interesting thing, letting your kids gain their independence and not only that, but suddenly they have their own online lives and presence. They are beginning to own their own story and all of our roles in the story shift ever so slightly, sometimes not so slightly. No longer is it my prerogative to share (and overshare) all the cute and adorable things they do, nor the embarrassing, frustrating, and hair pulling things that they do. This is hard for me. I've had this blog for many years - 7? 8? I'm not sure. And while I've become quite the blog slacker, I still find myself being pulled back in to make sense of things in my life. Or then there's facebook too. And instagram. Yes. Some people seem to be a little bit better with allowing their children more privacy and power in deciding what of their lives should be shared, and what shouldn't. This is an ever evolving process for me.

I was driving home with Abigail one day and we were talking about this. We had just spent a couple long hours waiting through the long lines at the DMV only to get to the counter and discover that I had needed to bring documentation of our new address to complete the application and I didn't have it. Ugh!! My fault that all of this time had been wasted. And, here's the tricky part, this was the 3rd time we had been at the DMV waiting in lines to take the test for her to get her driver's learning permit. 
So, she says, don't tell anyone I didn't get my permit - again. 
But you see, I tell her, this is also my story. It's my frustration that I didn't bring the necessary forms. It's also my time wasted in waiting for no good reason. Compounded by the fact that this wasn't the first time we had been there to try to do this.
So, what is her story to tell and what is mine? Can I tell mine without also telling hers? 
And it doesn't stop there, of course. Like this quote says, our stories always come back to our mothers'.  Because when did our story ever begin and hers end? 
Her pregnancy was my prenatal life. Her story of my birth is my birth story. Everything I do, affects her too. Everything she does, is part of the story of my life. Because she is my mother.

And I am her mother, my daughter's (and my other children, of course).  Her story is my story. Her successes are part of my success. Her tears become mine. We are forever entwined, our stories overlapping. Even when she is truly her own and I am just a background figure, it will remain thus.
This is an interesting time of stepping back and letting her determine her own story to tell or not to tell. Sometimes I am amazed that I am here, at this point in my own story. Where we are shifting our roles, and figuring out this intricate relationship between what is mine and what is hers. And what our story will become.

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