Rock the Vote

So today is election day. I did my duty, which I have done for as long as I can remember, and went to vote earlier this afternoon. It has become quite an event in our house because I usually drag the kids along so that they can learn, see and become familiar/comfortable with the voting process. I remember that the first time I ever drove a car after giving birth to my first child was to pack her up and head out to the polling station.

I was reading some posts on Facebook today and was so struck by one post in particular "So apparently it's unchristian to vote if you don't vote for a republican..." I'm quoting my dear friend, Caroline, and could not agree more. I find it so sad and really rediculous that our country's politics have come down to complete division and religion against religion. If I choose to vote for issues that I really believe in and for people that I feel can really do the most to help mankind, then according to some people, I am not a true Christian. Well I do consider myself a Christian, I do tend to lean more to the Democratic side, but I have and did vote for both democrats and republicans in the elections.

I vote my conscience; I vote what I feel is right in my own mind. I don't agree 100% with either party. Why is that a cause to question my religion? Can I not want all people to have access to affordable healthcare and still worship God? Can I not want to protect and improve the environment and still follow Christ? Does it all have to to be either/or? I think that if more people could truly make up their own minds on individual issues and not be so dedicated to "party Politics" the world would be a better place.

I personally am so sick of the garbage that people on all sides of political issues are passing around right now. What happened to being able to sit down with people who had different ideas so we could discuss our different views and still be able to walk away as friends? It seems those days are gone. So if we can't agree, we can't be friends right? Seems really sad to me, because we probably could have worked together to do great things. Guess we're all screwed anyway.

I think I'm losing my mind...

Yesterday I was picking up my little Cecilia from her parent's day out program and having a nice little chat with the mom of a little boy in her class. I picked up both my child and hers to let them get a drink from the water fountain and commented that the kids were really growing up so fast. We were discussing the kids height and weight and I told her that I was taking Cecilia for her 18 month checkup on Wednesday and I was looking forward to seeing how much she had grown.

Cecilia and I headed to the car and I got her all strapped in to make our way to the next school to pickup Anna Frances. I climbed into the driver's seat and suddenly became really confused...I mean like REALLY CONFUSED having to sit there for a minute (that seemed like forever) to work it out in my head! I told told my friend that Cecilia was 18 months old. That WAS right, wasn't it? But it couldn't be, I told myself. Cecilia just turned ONE in July, so how could I be saying she was 18 months old? I did the math on my fingers. I thought about her birthday party. I thought about the summer and the time didn't add up. What was I thinking? Where had I gotten confused?

And then it hit me...

Cecilia turned one in February, which makes her 18 months old. Anna Frances turned eight in July!

This really was totally crazy, but also quite hysterical to me, especially when I told my friends about it. For those few minutes everything was so jumbled in my head that I could not keep my own kids straight! And I only have two!! I offer my sincere appreciation to my mother for keeping all of us straight (or halfway straight!!) in her mind for so many years. It's a surprise that anybody ever survives childhood.

Sorry girls. You'll have to tell your therapist about me someday.

Tonight I'm praying for a clear head tomorrow.

A Little Part of Me

I got the chance to spend some special quality time with my little girl this weekend. It was a great night out seeing the hottest concert around and I was excited for the one-on-one time and to surprise her since she turned eight a few weeks ago. Its amazing to see her growing up right in front of me. You should really see her. She's this beautiful, smart, funny, talented, independent, caring and sensitive young woman in a little girls body. I sometimes look at her and I'm completely in awe--how did I get have a part in creating this amazing little creature? I am truly the lucky one.

Many people think she looks just like me. I have to say no way. She's beautiful in a way I've never been able to pull off. She's confident in things that would make me cringe. She's athletic, which I've never aspired to be. Beautiful, straight, dark brown hair that I would kill to have naturally. And the deepest, most serious brown eyes that have a way of turning her daddy into putty in her hand. She's like nothing I've ever seen. Oh I'm sure that you could find plenty of people in the world that you would say are "prettier" but no one compares to my Anna Frances, and she is a part of me.

She's a little example of a true paradox. She is fiercely independent, especially when it comes to dealing with me, but at the same time she can be terrified to venture on her own in new situations. We clash in heated arguments over simple things that shouldn't be a big deal, but she always (almost always) comes back to me at the end of the day with more love than I've ever thought I had a right to. The most common thing that we share is our stubborness, our attitude and our dealings with one another. She really is a little version of me, but not in looks as you might think. She's got a similar spirit and somedays I know I'm in trouble. It's those difficult days where I think that one of us may end up on a milk carton that make me call my own mother and apologize!!!

To say that I was a natural when it came to being her mother is a gross exaggeration. Bringing her home from the hospital was the most terrifying thought of my life eight years ago. You would think I was working toward a PhD with all the books I read and studying I did before she was born. Unfortunately, none of that information did much to help me when the moment of truth finally arrived. It's like learning to drive by reading a manual and then actually getting behind the wheel of a car.

I've always worked very hard to parent her "by the book", now which book that is I haven't exactly figured out! All I knew was that I wanted a child that people "didn't mind to see coming". You know what I mean, there's always that kid that think "oh great, we have to deal with THAT kid." I just never wanted THAT kid. I've never said my children are perfect, but at least I'm trying! Because of that, and because she's the first child and was an only child for almost seven years, we, well more like, I have been pretty strict on her. I wanted to teach her so many things: be responsible, be respectful, be neat, be honest, be...

Being a parent is really hard, you know? I want to be a good parent and raise her to be a responsible, well-adjusted adult. There's this real struggle to balance along a fine line. I want her to be adventurous, but cautious...to take school/life seriously but know how to have fun...to want the best for herself but take care of others...to have pride in herself and her accomplishments but also to be humble. I also want her to know that she's a beautiful person no matter who's looking and that she is one person that she will have to live with for the rest of her life.

I want my children to have everything that this world has to offer and to know that every opportunity is hers, but also know that most of us never had that option and were never so lucky. I want her to be able to have a wonderful childhood and focus on hopes and dreams of her future but also know that life in general is really tough and really hard work.

I feel as though life is a paradox, with each day, each decision just one big contradiction. I want my girls to have all the things I never had but to also be thankful and gracious and see that everyone is not so lucky. I want my girls to know about hard times and hard life but also want no child to feel those same pains of heart ache. How do you teach the lessons that only pain can teach while working like hell to make sure you protect your children from the same pain?

These are the questions that keep me up many nights. I think sometimes about struggles in my own life and childhood and realize that they made me the person that I am today. I've spent my whole life running from so many thoughts and memories and trying to out run those demons. Someday maybe I can even embrace them as character builders. But right now I'm working on the childhoods of two very special little girls that I would do anything in this world for and just trying my hardest not to screw it up.

Why did I do that?

Recently I was visiting with an old friend that I had not talked to years. I realized something terrible about myself as I looked back on this visit over the next few days--sometimes I cannot shutup and run my mouth WAY TOO MUCH! Add a few glasses of wine to the situation and I become a volcano of erupting crap that comes flowing out of my mouth. My husband pointed out to me the other night that I become very loud after a glass or two of wine and like everyone when they are drinking, I become very adamant about what I have to say. (although at times I can be LOTS of fun too!!)

Well needless to say, I was drinking at the time I was talking to my dear old friend. I can only imagine how stupid I looked after all these years, (although I've been assured I did not) but I do hope my friend will forgive and we will not wait 15 years before we catch up again.

This incident and the following days that I spent contemplating it, made me think about impressions that we make on a daily basis. We really do only get one chance to make a first impression. I just hate to think that that is the one on which we are most judged. I feel like a child that should have listened to my mother's advice and should have been on my best behavior. Instead I was a fool and did not leave the impression that I wanted.

Don't worry, I certainly did not do anything inappropriate, but I just hate to make myself look like a fool if I don't have to. If you haven't seen someone in a long time, looking like an idiot is not the memory you want to leave for the next 15 years.

Well I guess I will continue to replay in my head the bits of the conversation that I actually remember (and beat myself up for!) and just try to stop worrying about the things I don't. I hope to get the chance to right my wrong and redeem myself at some point.

Although my husband says its impossible and I've never done so, I am admitting I was wrong. There you go Barry, I've done it and you can't say that about me anymore!

Another one just like the other one...

As I came down the stairs this morning I realized that my life is caught in some never-ending cycle that my friend, Shelley, likes to call Groundhog Day. It's the same thing everyday-wake up, stumble to the bathroom, look in the mirror to realize that a truck must have run over my face during the night (make mental note to try and take better care of myself and soon before it's too late!), then stumble down the hallway to change yet another dirty diaper, make coffee, make breakfast, start a load of laundry, unload dishwasher, fight about what the kids will or won't eat today and the day continues just like every one before it has for at least the last eight years. Suddenly I realize, how in the hell did I get here?

I remember a time soon after getting married and certainly before the kiddos came along, that the idea of being the happy little homemaker and being able to stay home and take care of my children seemed like the dream job. I had had some great jobs in the past, but I (and many others like me) truly felt that getting to stay at home meant that we had finally "arrived". I mean who wouldn't want to be at home baking cookies while our dear husbands went out to their jobs making all the money and taking care of us while we create the perfect home with the perfect children?

With this idea in mind, I remember more than once having the conversation with my husband, Barry, that if I could only quit my job and stay home once we had children, that I would gladly take care of EVERYTHING as far as the house was concerned. I would be more than happy to be responsible for all things cooking, cleaning and child-rearing. It was a deal I was willing to make because it had to be more fun to hang out at home than to get up every morning and have to get dressed and have deadlines and be working for someone else right?

What the hell was I thinking?? (the question I ask myself on a regular basis!)

Now before anyone decides to send me hate mail because you think I'm too harsh on my kids, husband, or the job of staying at home, just hear me out and then decide if I should be punished!

I had no idea what I was getting myself into! No one has ever accused me of being a great housekeeper. Heck I'm perfectly content if my house is just sort of tidy, but I would never say it's really all that "clean". I have no problem dumping the clean laundry on the bed in the guest room or on the extra sofa and just fishing out the things you need when you need them. If I can close a door and just not be able to see the mess, then to me the mess does not exist. (It's called denial and I highly recommend it!)

Unfortunately for me, my husband does not subscribe to the same philosophy. When he was growing up, evidently his mother was queen of all homemakers and there was never a thing out of place, a moment of waiting for a meal or piece of clothing that wasn't ironed. (Ironing happens to be one of her favorite pass times while I on the other hand iron only a couple of times a year and have a closet full of clothes that haven't been worn in years because they need to be ironed!) Now Barry is by NO MEANS a clean freak and will walk around a mess for a while himself and he really will wait until the mess becomes too much to handle before he will say something. But my problem is, if bothers you that the room is such a mess, why don't YOU do something about it??

Here is the spot where my big mouth and grand ideas came back to bite me in the butt! For several years his favorite response was to remind me of the deal that we made so many years ago, ya know it's the one where I sold my soul for the chance to "quit working" in exchange for taking care of the house/children. So many times I have heard, "you know Chas, our deal was that I provide for us and you take care of everything else. I get up early every morning and go off to work to give our family everything that we have and at least if you get tired you can lie down and take a nap if you want to." Would you like to know the number of naps that I have taken over the years? I think I can count them on one hand (if you don't count the time about 5 years back when a nasty case of depression left me pretty useless for the better part of the year.) But that aside, I have not seen so much of this "free time" that I believed was part of the mommy package.

Now granted, I do spend my fair share of time on the phone with my girlfriends and since facebook came along, even more time at my computer, but at least when I'm on the phone I'm doing at least three other things at the same time. (See above for list of things get repeated each and every day.) What I really want is the "free time" to be truly "free". Just because I'm not cooking or cleaning at the moment doesn't mean some little person doesn't need something or that I get any personal time and/or space. It only means that I am choosing to let a mess or chore go for a few minutes while I do something useless (i.e., facebook).

I am proud of the fact that my children are awesome and my husband is pretty happy on most occasions. I even like to think that maybe, just maybe, I am responsible for a part of it. But lately, it just hasn't seemed like quite enough for me personally. Don't get me wrong. I love my family and they are the best thing that has happened to me. These days I just find myself thinking, is this as good as it gets? Did the most exciting time of my life (that doesn't revolve around children) already happen to me and I was too busy wishing for something else to realize it? Have I spent too much time wishing I had a hobby or interest in something just for me and not enough time finding out what it might be?

These are the questions that plague my mind these days and I am vowing to myself to actually do something about. Considering the fact that said husband is a bull-headed defense attorney, I don't see much wiggle room in the fateful deal with the devil that I agreed to about 12 years ago. I just have to be thankful for all of the things he does do around the house to help me out these days especially since baby #2 came along.

I'll keep you posted on my quest to find something that strikes my fancy. Until then, tomorrow will be Groundhog Day at the McWhirter house...

Finally here!

So after months, maybe years of talking about writing, thinking about writing, even dreaming about writing, I am here. I finally have my own little place out there in the world. In the words of Madonna, not an exact quote mind you, I've spent so much time trying to get your attention, now do I really have anything to say? Seems like I've been walking around feeling like my head would explode for so long now. It was as if I had a million thoughts that needed to get out. My hope for my blog is just to have an outlet, to feel a weight lifting off my mind because the thoughts/words will finally have a place to go.

A few years ago, I was having a particularly difficult time with my mother and really felt like I could not relate to or connect with her. I sat down with tears in my eyes and a heart that was breaking and wrote a letter her. This wasn't just a little note to tell her I was upset. This was a lifetime of things that I had to say to her. By the time it was finished, it was almost nine pages! I knew at that time that my words would really hurt her and that our relationship would be forever changed and damaged as a result of me telling her how I really felt. I told myself that that was a chance I was willing to take in order to say what I needed to say.

Just writing that letter suddenly made me feel like the weight of the world had been lifted off of my heart. I took my massive letter, sealed it in an envelope and carried it around with me for a while until I could get up enough nerve to send it to her. Well I came across that letter recently when I found it buried in the bottom of the storage compartment of my car. I pulled it out and started to read it but had to out it away. You see, I never had to send that letter and I never had to hurt her more. Just simply getting the feelings out on paper was all it really took to begin to get over the problems we were having.

Life has a funny way of working itself out sometimes. We have our moments, as every family does, but I can honestly say that those feelings and pain of that conflict dissolved away over time. I'm not sure when it happened but we have certainly evolved and none of us are the same people we once were. We have changed for the better!

I can't speak to anyone else's reasons, but I will always look to that simple act of writing that letter that I never mailed as the moment that changed me. Suddenly I had put those words out into the universe and they were no longer trapped inside of me--I had released them.

Thus the power of words. I hope I don't disappoint.