Apollo had made friends in the last two months he was at his new school. It wasn’t too hard for him to adjust socially, since he’s always been a personable kind of kid.
He had been wanting to go over to a friend’s house for quite a while. But we just never got around adjusting to it as parents. He’s never really done the whole play date thing, unless it was happening at our place. We finally got around to entertaining the idea, and he had his first play date at his friends house a few weeks back.
I realize that it doesn’t just benefit him, but also benefits us/me. Being new to the area, J and I have yet to really commit to making new friends. One, J is usually busy with work and by the time he gets home there isn’t much room to go off and meet new people. Which leaves me, with trying since I’m home most of the time.
It’s important to put yourself out there. While I’m still not as comfortable making friends with Apollo’s friends parents, it is important for his relationships to grow and flourish. How would he find a new best friend after all?
Tonight R’s mom invited me over for a get together at her house with a few friends for her birthday. She had been celebrating all week and perhaps, she thought of me to get to know some new people. It’s nice of her. I’ve been quite nervous and anxious about the whole thing, since I’m more awkward than anything with meeting new people. But this should be fun for this busy mama.
Anyway just thought I’d share with you guys some stuff that also helps me grow as a mom. It’s always important to recognize these types of experiences. I am after all a person too.
I thought for the longest time that I’d never get my license to drive. My father was afraid to drive from a traumatic event when he was still a bit young. A truck dragged him. This in turn effected his wonder to drive. We never had a car, we relied on public transportation. It grew on me as I got older, the convenience of going everywhere just by riding one transportation to another. It became a thing for me; riding the public transit as some thrill space.
As I got older, I just never thought I’d ever go for my license. I didn’t think of ever owning a car. I know absolutely nothing about cars. But time has changed. Motherhood has changed me.
You know that list of motherhood that everyone’s passed around on Facebook? The one where it lists your job as a mother; a cook, a nurse, an song artist, a driver? Yeah, for the longest I thought my list of motherhood is short of one compare to most. I’m not a driver for my kids, because well I don’t ever drive. Today that changed. I know it’s funny of me to be so proud of this, but getting my license kind of opens up doors in my box of parenting. It provides freedom, better access to my requirements, it just gets me out and going to get the things I need done. So yay ! Thanks j, for pushing me to do this. You’re right. It does help!
In other news; the weather in windsor has been quite crazy hot, lately. I heard even in Toronto it’s the same. Luckily tonight we got some thunder, lightning and a crazy amount of rain. Tomorrow is supposed to carry throughout the day, and then clear on Friday and for the rest of the weekend. We’ve been growing a forest in the backyard. J doesn’t want to cut the grass because the lawn mower sucks and the grass is all uneven. The yard needs work. Work neither of us are willing to do. So we’ll have to dig for some lawn caretakers.
Mothering be like; Apollo. Apollo has been on some crazy tip lately. A tip I cannot find the connecting wire to. He’s bearable at times, and times when I swear he’s into this whole ‘bad boy’ persona. I’m just gonna roll my eyes at this because I’ve run out of excuses in my head for what I’m doing wrong. All I’ve really got is brain farts about this topic. #stillstruggling #sevengoingonseventeen
I really just wanted to update you on my G2 license exam. But the day has been super long with constantly trying to find the patience to figure stuff out with Apollo on the daily. But you should know, he’s a good kid, with a good heart, and I still love him with my every being. He’s my favourite son, you know!
It’s been four lessons since I started practicing for my g2. I must say, I feel more confident now than I did before. Never being the one to drive with anyone else but J, narrowed my thoughts of being ‘able to drive’. I spent four lessons (4 hours) with Pami. I covered, one-way routes, parallel parking, forward parking, and reverse parking. My most feared test was parallel parking, but it’s not as hard as I thought it would be. Mind you, I’ve no examiner ticking points off at my tiny mishaps.
Next, is my driving test this Wednesday. Bright and early at 8:25. I’ve opted to have one more practice with Pami, to refresh my mind and calm my nerves before the examiner sit-in with me. I’m certain the nerves will continue to pounce me just until I begin that test, like any other tests/exams I’ve ever taken in my lifetime.
So here we are, another achievement in my lifetime. I have to say, I wouldn’t be this brave, if it wasn’t for J.
I’ll let you know how that exam goes. Hopefully I’ll be g2 licensed by the time I conjure up some next update for you all! Cross your fingers and pray for the people on the road that morning! LOL
Some things in life are impossible until someone pushes you to go and do it.
Since summer has commenced for the oldest of my three, he’s been home with me all morning and all afternoon and then some. These past few days have been more than I can take with trying to get through the day with him. It seems that he’s found ‘bad behaviour’ to be a fun game. His attitude is sky rocketing, his listening skills has weakened even more, and ignoring his parents to be a habit. So you would believe, how difficult it is to get through the day with him alone. Then you sprinkle in the needs of the two girls somewhere between, my scolding Apollo to please listen and care to use his brain, to juggling the tears between the two girls for whatever it is they need/want.
Today, I am exhausted. Today, I can’t mom. Today, I am not as strong-willed. Today, I feel incapable to parent. Today, I feel like my everyday routine is too much. Today, I am at my last string of positive.
J and I did not plan much for this summer, in terms of trips. Why? Because there just isn’t room in the schedule with J’s work. So our trips won’t actually start till Winter. This means, the four of us (the three kids and me) are stuck at home, until J gets home from work. Windsor doesn’t offer much in terms of activities for children. In Toronto, you can get to the zoo, go to Canada’s Wonderland (theme park), head to a variety of park options, shops, malls, etc. So the kids and me are mostly home. In the next few weeks, Apollo is to spend two weeks at his grandparents. It luckily ties in with Apollo’s grandfather’s vacation time. So as expected, Apollo had thought up to spend time there and luckily his grandparents have approved the idea.
Two weeks without Apollo is a break for me to mother two instead of three you’d think. But the separation anxiety has already kicked-in. Apollo is rarely away from home for any type of sleepover adventures. Perhaps we’ve chosen to raise him this way to understand the importance of learning what it means ‘to be home’. There isn’t really many opportunities for us to sleep away from home. One, we’ve got two younger children and thats just a challenge on its own, and second, it’s not a necessity for us to be out and about constantly, requiring to stay at a variety of places. Apollo has taken trips around Ontario while he was very little, staying at hotels and resorts, but not as often enough for him to ‘miss home’.
In terms of activities this summer, I figured day-camp would busy Apollo until school returns (day-camp will have to wait till august), with a side of investing in some type of mental work into a work book for grade 2’s we’ve found at Costco. He will afterall be a grade 2 pupil next September. I’ve always invested in these work books since he began his academic journey. It helps with his intellectual phase, and allows him to stimulate his brain on the daily without letting it get too lazy, especially during summer breaks. It has immensely helped him, and the only negative is his boredom to continue doing them when the school year begins. In turn though, his frustration to finishing last during exercises at school, will be fixed since his mind should recall the same exercises from the books and push him to think faster. It’s all important, as blah-blah-blah as it is to read through this paragraph.
Trying to get him to invest time into these work books during summer is a complete battle I’ve purposely placed myself in. Simply because he’d rather be doing something more finger-worthy like YouTube, wii-u, etc. But I am his mother, and he is my child. It’s my responsibility to keep the teaching going for as long as he can choose to learn. So this constant battle with doing work books, cuts into the focus I have for the two girls. It’s funny how you’re never truly 100% focus with each child, but rather cut into so many tiny pieces trying to tend to everything titled ‘for mom to do’. I’m a terrible mother.
Arty is quite challenging these days, between constant eating, to stimulating activities, I’m super exhausted trying to keep up with her. Then there’s Cassi who rarely and barely needs too much but just to be fed, burped, changed, cradled to nap, and play until she tires out her legs.
Oh but the dishes’ stink call out to me, the food that’s managed to graced the floor instead of the tummies of their masters require sweeping before the middle one finds it to stash away for back-up snacks. The cooking and the feeding and the tidying up and the…There’s too much!
My brain feels pretty fried at this moment. I’m certain today is one of those days I’ve most certainly had before, but I’m losing to because today I really just cannot lion.
The girls are due for a nap. I’ve left Apollo to finish off the few pages I’ve assigned him. It has yet been ten minutes since I laid the girls in bed, and he’s already creaked my door open for nonsense inquiries. Ugh! Is it night time yet? Can I sleep this off yet, and start a new day tomorrow?
P.s. the coffee didn’t work. It must the reason for this gloomy day. Rain is coming.
It has been quite hard on J and me lately. We’ve found ourselves misunderstanding each other, and unable to find the string that connects us. It’s not rare for these moments to occur, especially when you’re parenting three kids, tending to life on the daily, and crossing off responsibilities on the constant. It’s very hard for J and me to have a moment alone. We don’t ever get the chance to go on dates, alone, or have a moment to hear ourselves converse. It gets tricky when you have children (I’m sure you can all relate to this).
Well? What happens when you’ve had just enough of parenting, and you try to find each other through the dirt, the mess, and the chaos of being parents? You sometimes don’t. So I guess, that’s what’s happening with us. We’re getting all our times mixed-up, and our priorities for each other lost.
I miss him. I see him everyday. We don’t ever get to cuddle anymore. The kids are always occupying the space between us. I wanna tell him secrets. The kids will hear. I miss holding him, as I fall asleep. Arty’s taken my spot, and the arm I used to cling to.
He mentioned we should get a babysitter or a nanny, so we could go out. I spent ten minutes after that telling him with anxiety how terrible I feel about it. I couldn’t imagine leaving my kids with a stranger, because I want a moment to myself. That’s the thing. I don’t know what I’m willing to give up. I feel like the juggle can only be done by me. The feeling of leaving the kids with a total stranger, just boggles my mind. I couldn’t. What if something happens to my babies? Why shouldn’t I be the first to be there, if they ever got hurt. What if that stranger is bad? Ugh. What am I willing to give up for a couple of ours of J & M-time?
My heart feels a little heavy lately. I can’t seem to find the string that connects J and me. It bothers me because we’re important too.
I’ve often found my past to be a neusance. It appears in moments like a puzzled film. It captures the state of my current heart only to fracture what I’ve managed to heal back together. I often like to dwell in pretending I’m some kind of superhero who can heal myself, with whatever kind of wounds that ceases my being in times when I’m strong. And one thing that always breaks me down; in moments of their weakness are my children.
I thought about the instances I’ve recently found myself in. Moments that wiggle themselves out from negative vibes. More recently it seems, I’ve a harder time finding the patience, understanding and courage to assess what’s happening with my son. He sits at number seven, and finds himself in the state of ‘bad to the bone’. I’m at my wits, trying to figure out how to ‘fix’ what’s being broken. Perhaps, I’m losing sight at the strands of what breaks him. Perhaps my visions are what needs fixing rather than catching only what he breaks.
My son is the most sweetest, kindest, purest heart I’ve ever come to know (with the exception of my two girls who share this heart). His smile, it literally lifts you up from the pits of darkness one has managed to find themselves imprisoned in. His love for fun, intimidates ones very being because, sometimes when you’ve transformed into an adult, you lose your sense of innocence. I find its harder for me to sift through my chaos, to connect with him in his state of cognitive process.
Tonight, a fellow blogger (@mikemadigan) made me see things in a different tone.
It’s been stated many times before, ‘being a mother is hard’. It’s even more difficult when you’ve got demons you’ve yet to face. Perhaps what holds me back are my annoying fears, that like to sneak up to remind me I’ve got changes to stamp in the present, so that tomorrow may not sting as much. What I don’t realize is how much my vision of tomorrow, breaks my present time.
We could all use a little less thinking and a little more feeling.
After all, those are the basis in which my son mostly functions in. I’ve forgotten to feel, so much so, he’s slowly drifting from me. My very fear in being a mother.
I shall stop blaming my past, and work on the now. My son deserves better!
I’m hungry. It’s too late to snack. Tomorrow I’ve an hour of spare with Pami. I’m taking her for a drive again.
I woke up at fourthirty to feed Cassi. She hasn’t been eating consistently. She’s all backed up and crying most of the day. She doesn’t always finish the four oz she usually downs. I hope she’s alright. I hope she poops soon. #thingsthatmomwishesfor
Anyway, it’s now eight past five. The sun is slowly creeping through the living room window. I had gone to the kitchen to get a gatorade, but I opted for water instead. I couldn’t go back to sleep. I feel really conflicted. My heart feels a certain weight of trouble and I just can’t seem to shake it off at this time. J’s alarm has just gone off. This staying up when I could get a few more hours of sleep is probably going to catch up with me come seventhirty when I have to get Apollo up for school. But let’s see where this goes.
I wanted to clarify or expand a little bit on my previous post. It appears many of you guys have split into two in wondering about where I’m coming from. First, I want you to know that the part of me that deals with this aspect of my life has always been quite complicated. For the most part, my relationship with my father was never one to fully grasp or compare to with any other kind of father-daughter relationship. While it seems that any adult and child relationship could withstand the obstacles of being in a family and having to go through the motion of that, it was never the case for the two of us. Forget what you think and know about parent-child relationship. What you know about raising a child. What you think father’s and daughters are.
I like to think of my relationship with my father as some kind of story in a book. One where you piece two people together from halfway through the story and kinda see whether or not it’ll become something.
My father and I had one thing in common, which was dancing. We both loved to perform and we both appreciated the beauty of dance. That’s as good as it gets. Literally. There is absolutely nothing else we have in common. Well when you adopt a child privately at eight months old..an adoption that wasn’t planned, it would leave a certain question in the future about whether or not this would work out.
See, I’m not against adoption at all. I think that it’s one of the best ways to give love and sometimes find love. It is in those unfortunate circumstances that people find real love, sometimes. J and I want to adopt. We want six kids, four to be biologically ours and two to mix into our family and share our love with. But..when an the adoption wasn’t something you thought through and really wanted, eventually there comes consequences from that.
My dad had moved to Canada, after his father passed away. I was three. He tried to leave me with his aunt, but that didn’t work because apparently I cried and cried and wouldn’t stop. So she then sent me to my dad’s sister-in-law, where I would eventually spend the next six years considering as my family (this chapter is a whole other story on its own).
Fast forward to when I was nine. It’s October of ’97 and snow coated the land so well. I’ve landed and my bone marrow could feel the cold as the plane sits to allow people off. A fellow flyer had walked me to baggage claims because the stewardess that was supposed to have been watching me from the Philippines to Canada-maybe got left behind. The whole trip, this lady from the plane took care of me. Anyway, I could see my aunt through the glass windows; who I’d met a year back when she took a trip back home with her giant son (he’s half white). I had finally figured out how to get to them and there he was..my father. He hugged me and covered me with a coat. He wouldn’t stop hugging me, and I wasn’t used to him so I said, “stop hugging me. I don’t even know you.” You probably think I’m a brat, but if you haven’t figured it out by now I’m that person with the foul mouth who says anything and everything as if I’m not aware of what social filter is. He went on to say, “I’m your dad. I’m the one in the pictures.” Well, that statement never did sit well with me.
Moving forward, the first few months were probably the most awkward in our relationship. Here’s an image of my father. Don’t worry you won’t need to close your eyes to imagine.
He’s about 5’8 / 5’9 probably the tallest in his siblings. He’s got a steep nose, with dark hair..wait there’s a photo up there already. He’s literally a spitting image of Antonio Banderas, mixed with a dash of Marc Anthony. The thing is he looks very Spanish. His features are from his uncle. His family is part Spanish, on his dad’s side. Moving on..
We never really had those first six years you’re supposed to have when you have a child. Those years are the most critical in a child’s development. So when you have nothing that you started with or built a foundation from, you’re starting at something half-way completed. It was only a matter of a few years before my next milestone. He had missed the character I’ve become, the mannerisms I had, the person that I was becoming, the toys that I liked, the TV shows that I liked, the kind of friends I liked, the type of clothes I liked, the kid I had become.
He had slowly began to understand my personality. A good kid with a bad temper. Countless troubles at school began, not academically but socially. Being in his mid forties already, he had no clue how to help me socially adjust. This caused chaos in my mind that then transfered into our relationship. I began to grow as a person, and eventually made friends. Having friends who were boys were an issue. Wanting to hang out with friends was an issue. So because we couldn’t find common ground and he refused to find it in him to understand what I was going through; normal stages at that it really became a struggle for the two of us.
My father worked as an accountant, and this means I’d spend the time he was away at work with my aunt who lived near us. In the summer time, during off days from school, I’d bounce around between his family members and his friends. Never finding consistency and balance.
Finally at the end of grade school, I had started a fling with a boy that would eventually become my first puppy love. That lasted till I was sixteen. Those three years would prove to be more trouble between my dad and me. It lead to me going into foster care.
I spent a year in foster care, with an Italian family. It was one of the toughest and confusing time in my life. I wondered why my dad had bothered uprooting me from where I was from to half raising me here. I couldn’t understand why he couldn’t get me. Why our relationship was so complicated. After turning sixteen, I was able to make decisions for myself and what would happen with my status in foster care. A child of the government. I chose to live on my own from then on. And I fend for myself, figuring out life on my own, in my own terms. I would eventually be in and out of his house, because a part of me still cared for him. But it wouldn’t last. And we lost contact.
At eighteen my first serious relationship began. J and I hung out, and didn’t become an item until a year after. Eventually at twenty, J and I became parents. Two people trying to figure out adult life was complicated. Relationship in its own was complicated, but we got through it. A few months before I was due to have Apollo, I e-mailed my dad and figured this thing between us will have to quit. He was becoming a grandpa for the first time ever. I was becoming a mom and it was time to mend the pieces in the aspect of family. I wanted him to be there. I wanted him to know my son. I wanted him to be a part of his life. And with that, things were like nothing happened. My dad would eventually become a part of my life again; a part of Apollo’s life.
My father would be a part of my life for the next several years, helping me while I worked and eventually deciding to take on post-secondary academics. We would still bicker about the petty things of life, from his disapproval of my tendencies of caring for my home, to my way of parenting. This would lose us a few weeks here and there, but my apologies for things even when I wasn’t at fault, would mend these breaks.
A few Christmases ago, he had began his trips to The Philippines where he would spend six months a time. It was the first time he had ever gone for that long. He’s made trips there before but a month at most. Our relationship would become second to his new life after that. He had find no relevance to be around, as I had began my own life, had a child, had a family of my own and would eventually feel as if he was no longer a part of, even with my reassurance that I still needed him. It appears that the chaos of life is all the time when I needed him, but it wasn’t like that. I wanted him to be a part of my life, I wanted us to be better. I wanted us to figure out what this thing was between us that we couldn’t sort through. But his way was way beyond what I was willing to compromise, and I couldn’t find it in me to make mends.
The last month he was in The Philippines, I had informed him that I was due to have a second baby. That J and I were ecstatic to be having another. From his end, this wasn’t a good thing. He had left me with, “Why would you have another one? It’s not cheap to have more kids. You aren’t financially stable, you are just ruining the lives of your kids.” I thought differently. While we did struggle financially, we acquired help from J’s family when were really needed it. And perhaps, they did better in the true definition of what it means to be there for your kids. My dad was no where. But we made it the best we can. It wasn’t easy, it never is, but it was all worth it for the sake of our son. Two years would pass, and we’ve lost everything between my father and I.
Last Christmas was the first time I seen him in over three years. Apollo would still know him as his grandfather, like things never changed, but it would be different for Artemis.
It would also be the last time I’d seen him, except for the brief five minutes he gave me and refused to see me during Easter. I would spend countless times calling him, and he wouldn’t pick-up or return my call. The last I spoken to him was a few weeks back, over facebook video chat. I had shown him our new house, and intended to talk longer to update him on my life and the kids. But this call wouldn’t last longer than ten minutes before he had shoo me away for another incoming call.
At this point, I’m uncertain, as I always have been. That relationship you’re to have with your parents is said to get better as you get older. Well, we’ve been stuck in this ever since I can remember. It hasn’t changed, it wont change and it’ll have to do.
So please be a little more understanding when I say, I do not relate with most child-parent relationships. I do not relate with most emotional attachments between child and parent. It isn’t a thing for me to know or begin to understand how these types of co-existing works. While it sucks that this is the way that part of my life has waved about, I do not regret the efforst I’ve made or in whichever way he figured I haven’t.
There will come a time, when I’ll have to figure all this stuff out. Until then, when I have found it somewhere deep down to understand why this is all acceptable in defence to our differences, then that’ll be the day I find closure. Until then, like most things in my past which I’ve no control of in trying even a tiny bit to fix, it’ll have to sit somewhere between I halfly cared to none.
The good of all this? I’ve my own family now, and my family is the best thing that has ever happened to me. It’s what I have always wanted, it’s what I have always needed.
It’s that time again.. I’ve spent a couple of hours trying to get this out. It was that hard for me to dig in there and find it in me to share. So please be kind.