Is there a band-aid for that?

I sat this morning scrolling through memories on my phone. A memory popped up from 5 years ago where I was at a high school graduation. I am pretty sure it was for some of the young women I taught in my church. The status read:

 "Only I can get teary at a high school graduation. I kept imagining the man in the mic announce "Dixon Chad Fonnesbeck" and the crowd going WILD! Dixon informed me that he will put duct tape over my eyes so I won't cry at his graduation. I've got 6 years to get my emotions under control." 

My emotions are a complete WRECK today and he's not even graduating until this time NEXT year. What a ride this year has been. My son has had a phenomenal Junior year! I am so proud of his progress. School has never been easy for him, but he has proved that hard work, even when it's literally HARD, pays off! We (and yes, I say WE because I am SOOOOOO taking some credit for him getting through this year) are ending the school year with a GPA of 3.367 and I'm stoked about that!!!  

So why have I’ve been a little weepy lately?

 It's because I know that in a years time, my bud could be out in the real world, doing real world things without his mother.

 I'll be sitting here at home, starring at the wall because hubs is either at work, or I'll be serenaded by his snoring because hubs is resting up from the 12+ hour shifts he works. 

 And to be honest, I think about ALL of that, and think about how empty and quiet it's going to be around here and I hate it.

 I think about how silent the basement will be when I won't hear the morning whistling coming from Dixon's shower. 

Or how I won't get the "HELLO MOTHER CHILD" greeting as he comes up the stairs. 

I am certain my days are numbered and my son won't think I'm the actual greatest, best person in the world anymore. He's going to find a new greatest person he can't live without. 

He'll not be here to yell my name as he enters the house from the garage.

 He won't be here to ask I'm doing ok, (and even though that drives me NUTS-O because he asks that simple question 86 times a day,) I know I'll miss it! 

Just as I'll miss him reaching out for a fist bump when I walk past the couch, or asking for a "Foot five." Or our secret handshake to either jinx or give luck to the team we are rooting for/against.

 Or what about the fact that my days are numbered of him being right beside me bright and early on the treadmill, or even worse...I won't have my Maverik companion. 

 All because he's growing up.

Is it supposed to hurt this much?

To my husband and son, this Mother's Day

Dear Dixon,
It’s Mother’s Day! I know. You're thinking, "What the SHIZZLE?" Well, here's the 4-1-1! I just wanted to let you know that I don't need any material gift today. Unless of course you've already bought one then of course I'll take it because who doesn't love free stuff, but seriously, I don't need anything because I already have you.
I LOVE being your Mom!
You will be embarrased by receiving this letter and probably roll your eyes, and tell me not to cry, but I seriously love being your Mom. And I wouldn't have that role of Mother, without you, so....THANKS!
I know I’m not perfect. I get cranky when I haven't had my "Mommy fuel" and I nag hard core about washing your face and shaving your peach fuzz. Hey! That's one thing you can do for me today without eyerolling. GO SHAVE! Mostly though, you do roll with it. Sorta. 
When I raise my voice at you for whatever reason, and you mutter under your breathe at how stupid whatever we are disagreeing about at the moment, is, Just know, I still love being your Mom.
I don't know why, but this Mother's Day it just feels important that I let you and your Dad (He has his own letter) know how very much I love you.  And yes, I MIGHT be crying and I know it's sappy, and "totes awks" but "BTW, IDC!"
Children are a blessing. I know. You're reading this and thinking, "Mother. I am NOT a child." You're right.  You have grown into a wise, understanding, humble, fun, generous, kind, compassionate, smart, savvy, honorable young man. 
You've taught me to laugh hard, but we've had our share of crying too. 
Mom's are often thought of as the one who sets the standards. Who are the role models. In many ways, it's YOU that has taken that role. You set the standards. You are the role model. You inspire ME to be better. 
Like I said, don’t worry about getting me anything this Mother's Day. I've got you. And of course my stance as mentioned at the beginning of this letter, on the gift that you may or may not have already gotten hasn't changed, so hand it over if you've got me one. #winkingsohardrightnow
This Mother's Day, I'm celebrating YOU! Thank you for choosing me, to be your Mom. Man oh man am I blessed!
Love you to infinity,
Mom




Dear Bottoms,
Several wives have nick names for their husbands. Sometimes I refer to you as Dad. Other times it's Dust. Most of the times though, it's Bottoms.
So, why are you getting a letter on Mother's Day?
I may be the only woman on the entire planet that kinda sorta hates Mother's Day. Well, I take that back. I love letting my own mother know how very much I love and adore her, but I don't love the mushy attention that comes my way. You though, have ALWAYS been good at showing your appreciation to me, not just on a random day in May.
But, because this IS Mother's Day, and I get to make the rules for once (ok. I make the rules a LOT around here. You and Dixon just roll with it, haha) I wanted to thank YOU! 
You see, it's because of you that I have a son. It's because of you, that I have the role of Mother. It's because of you that Dixon and I have a roof over our heads, a fridge full of food, and clothing on our backs. It's because of you that I feel safe. It's because of you that I could leave a job that was sucking the joy from me, and pursue one that lifts my spirits! You encourage me. You cheer me on. You are my left sided twix, and I (hopefully) am your right.
You encourage me to have my monthly girls night. You actually have sent me to the store with a gift card, telling me to treat myself because I did the laundry. That's what I feel like I am supposed to be doing, and yet, you make sure I know you appreciate it. All of it. And I do. 
You go to work at hours most would cringe at, but never complain. And because you are always away during the night time hours, and you know that I am afraid of the dark, and the monsters in my closet, you always tell Dixon to "Take care of Mom."
You get my sense of humor. Well, sometimes I DO have to remind you of my 'sarcasm degree' I received at "BS-you."
When one of us lacks faith, the other is un-waivering.
So, maybe even though I don't necessarily DIG Mother's Day, I still expect you to let me have the tv on Sunday. And you can "fo shizzle" keep the diet dews coming, hashtag no empty glasses. 
But really, just know I haven't forgotten you, and on Mother's Day I just wanted to say, Thanks!
Love you!
Ang

Did you know...(I'm scared to post this)

HOW do you react when you see somebody else in pain? Most of us can empathize with someone who has been injured or is sick – we can quite easily put ourselves “in their shoes” and understand, to some extent, what they are feeling. 

Why is it that we can empathize better with someone that has physical PROOF that they are hurting? This really got me thinking this morning. Let me tell you a story.

Yesterday, after my son was finished with his track meet, I noticed he was limping. I asked him if his feet were hurting, because apparently, track shoes aren't super cozy, and these athletes feet become sore. He told me that his feet were fine, but his hip was hurting. Then he proceeded to tell me that during pack hour (aka, lunch) he was playing basketball and took a hard foul, falling and landing on his hip bone. I took a took at it, and there's no bump, no bruise, no sign of anything "wrong" and yet, guys...he's REALLY hurting. Every time he sat, stood from sitting, adjusted in his chair, went up the stairs, went down the stairs, bent over to pull his socks on- you get the point, he kind of went, "Eeeaiiiiooow" (not to be confused with e-i-e-i-o, and now you have the Old MacDonald song stuck in your head.) I KNOW he is hurting. Had I just assumed that his feet were hurting, and not ASKED him about the limp, I would almost bet he'd have never told me about the fall and the injury to his hip. And I'd never know, because there's no physical indication that he was hurting.  

Let me shoot straight from the hip, pun intended. This is people. The human race. EVERY SINGLE PERSON is going through "stuff" and guess what? WE CAN'T SEE IT! And sadly, if there is no evidence of pain, we assume all is well and good.

Did you know, that sometimes my chest feels so tight, I feel like breathing is even hard to do? Did you know that sometimes I close the blinds to my house, lock the doors, and hide in my basement because it's just too people-y in the world for me some days? Did you know that sometimes I won't answer my phone, because I know when I say, "hello," the person on the other end is most likely going to say, "Hi. How are you?" and I don't want to lie by saying, "I'm good." Did you know that I feel nervous walking into church, or a grocery store, or even walking to check the mail (which is really the reason I usually drive to the mailbox.) Did you know that I refuse to go through a drive thru because I can't see who I'm talking to, and can't read their body language?

I'm often referred to as "fun, and outgoing." I like people. I really do, and I try my hardest to be friendly to everyone I come in contact with. But did you know, that sometimes, the smile on my face is a costume? 

News flash. None of us REALLY have ALL of our shit together. There. I said it. And...that's ok! It's really what makes us human.  And you might not see the physical pain, hurt, anxiety, "STUFF" on the outside that every single one of us goes through at some point in our lives, but we all have "stuff." 

I sometimes think how nice it would be if there were some sort of way we could tell what "hurt" people were facing. Not to be Nosey Mcnoserson or anything, but I feel that we would all show a little more compassion towards others if we KNEW their struggles. I know for a FACT, that if I see an elderly man or woman walking slow, I'm much more patient as I follow them down a crowded grocery aisle, rather than if I am following a younger person, meandering through the aisles with their carefree attitude. I'm just...less bugged, because I can see the physical reason that this older person would be moving more slowly. If every anxious person had a red stripe in their hair, and every person facing bullying challenges had a purple stripe in their hair, and every person dealing with a family crisis had a blue stripe in their hair, and every person that is having a hard time in school, or work, or WHATEVER, had a yellow stripe in their hair, that would JUST.BE.EASIER! 

Life wasn't meant to be easy. George Bernard Shaw said it best. "Life is not meant to be easy, my child; but take courage: it can be delightful." And it can be. 

If you have made it this far, maybe you'll take this challenge I leave with you. Help someone that might be a little less fortunate than you. And this has nothing to do with wealth. Some people are richly blessed with hardly any troubles or trials and have it all figured out. Others are not. And we can't see it, so...just show compassion, and understanding and love. And if you just can't do that today, well then...hide in your basement and try again tomorrow. 

Ellen DeGeneres says it the very very very best! "Be kind to one another."

I love you!
Ang