Mom is Just a Nickname

Missing: One cell phone. If found, please return to my daughter.

And earlier this week, my phone was lost…thankfully, it’s been found. What’s with losing phones this week?!

This blog is mostly defunct. Maybe the new year will change that. Maybe it won’t. It’s not as if I don’t have a million and one other things to do.  In September, we got a new dog. She’s an Australian Shepherd, about a year old, and in need of training and amusement.  Then in November, we bought a house.  So, of course, there’s all of the unpacking, organizing, and decorating to do there (not to mention the cleanup of the old house).

I’ve just finished my second semester in school.  It was a rough one and I didn’t finish everything I was supposed to, but luckily in the program I’m in, the class I didn’t finish will carry over.  By January 1, I’ll be starting a new semester and have more schoolwork to do.

Here’s to 2010 and the new adventures it will bring.

This blog was about my journey away from being just a mom.  And then I got so caught up in other things, I forgot to keep posting. Terrible, I suppose.  Today, my life involves being a mom, a wife, a friend, a struggling student thrown back into the harsh waters of school, an amateur gardener, and an amateur crochet-er.  I flip between the different roles with difficulty. I spend a whole month with my focus narrowed down to just one interest and then abruptly set that aside to focus on something else.  It’s an ongoing struggle to remain focused on any one thing for as long as it takes to finish it.

I also struggle with the feeling that I am tied so closely to someone else that his moods, his preferences…hell, his very presence so directly affect what I do with my life. I read in a book once (I think…can’t remember specifically) the idea of one spouse being like a spring who was only wound up to action when the other spouse was present…and I can relate to that feeling.  Life seems more real and more active when Toph is around.  It is a weird thing to me, to feel that life is on ‘pause’ when he is at work.  I struggle to be productive even though he is gone and it is frustrating to me.  I begin to feel that I have little internal motivation at all.  And it scares me, because what will happen to me if anything should take Toph out of my life permanently? How then will I go on and get done what needs doing?

I write this out of the need to remove the idea from my brain, where it has been resting heavily for many days now.  I expect that very few people ever read this blog anymore with any regularity since my last posts are so old and, imo, kind of uninspired.  What happened to being able to dig into my brain for something deeper than ‘hey these jeans fit me well!” oi.

I believe that words have power.  Words have the power to touch those around me, to let them know that I care, that I am angry, that I am in love.  Words have the power to shape arguments, to mold dreams, to share fears.  Words have a power greater than we give them credit for, even as we mash and mangle them into all sorts of new expressions with text messaging and online dialects.

I cannot doubt the power of the words I type.  Words evoke emotions, and stir passions.  Be the words typed or spoken, their ability to express my thoughts to others is unsurpassed by any other form of communication.  Words clarify that deep sigh, they crystallize that snort of laughter, and they bring meaning to the *shrugs* I type.

I choose my words carefully.  The words ‘hate’ and ‘love’ carry particular strength and I use each with caution.  Words carry unconscious meanings, subconscious layers of baggage hang on their every vowel and consonant.

Words have power. Words are power, when used correctly.

I love jeans that have been worn in, that are soft and comfortable, that mold to my hips but are boot cut so that my calves and ankles are unhindered by the fabric.  I love the faded blue denim that only comes from washing it a hundred times.

Because of that, I have a really hard time buying brand new jeans from a retail store.  The jeans, no matter how well they seem to fit in the dressing room, are always stiff. The colors, no matter how distressed or washed they are supposed to be, are always too bold and brash.

Instead of buying them from retail stores, when I have the time and energy (and need, of course) I go browse at a thrift store or Goodwill.  My size isn’t real common to find there so it takes some time to sort through everything to find my size -I suspect everyone my size does what I do: wear the things that fit until they are too worn to be worth giving away!   When I do find something, though, it’s like finding a buried treasure!

I recently wandered into a Goodwill store to find some jeans for my son.  I did find a pair for him, which he loves.  While I was there, though, I couldn’t resist browsing for myself.  I was pleased to find several pairs of jeans to try on.  I found the same brand and style in two sizes, but the sizes were one above and one below my normal size.  The bigger ones were way too big. The smaller were a mite snug.  I hadn’t had any luck finding a pair that were my perfect size.  Still, I opted to get the smaller size jeans since they weren’t too tight and the price was right.

In retrospect, I got the perfect size. I’ve had them on all day and they fit just right. They aren’t too tight, they aren’t sliding off my hips. They fit where they are supposed to and I feel good wearing them.  How great is it that they cost less than a quarter of what I would pay for them retail, and they were a size smaller than I’m used to buying!?