[flickr id=”7598819772″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]*Showing off my new haircut. HUGE change here – took off 8-10 inches, people. Loving it!
Yesterday I turned 36. I’ve realized in recent months that I always demure “30-something” when referring to my age; and maybe it’s my new haircut, maybe it’s the events of the past year, or maybe I’m just growing up – but I realized I don’t like that I do that.
I need to own my age.
After all, my teenage years sucked. My 20’s were short-lived as I got pregnant right before my 21st birthday and had to become responsible for a young life that wasn’t my own. I became a mother three times in my twenties, a wife once. I bought a house, went into debt and started the isolation of a mom of very young special needs children.
Now I’m 36.
While we’ve had our struggles in our marriage (2 brief separations), Erik and I are finally reaching a new level of communication and cooperation. After 10 years my marriage is growing into a much stronger and powerful force.
My children’s needs and demands on my time have eased into a comfortable realm. While I still struggle with the demands on my time, and probably always will, there is now a level of relaxation in there. We’re “used to” the struggle and know how to power through it.
My 30’s have seen my return to my love of writing, I’ve found myself published, and I’ve written several novels that are either ready or almost ready to put out into the world to find a home.
While my 30’s have also seen me enter menopause (thanks to my emergency hysterectomy), and the failure of my body to maintain shape as I gave into the comfort of SAHM-hood…My later 30’s are seeing me return to exercise. My progress is slow and I fail, but I am working toward being strong & healthy again. Getting in shape is more important than the number on the scale, and I’m feeling the changes as they happen.
The best part of my 30’s has been the reintroduction of friendships – of a LIFE – into my life. My “fake” online friends have become real. I finally got to meet my BFF Jess in person a couple of years ago, and she’s returned the favor by coming here. Thanks to this blog (also started at the cusp of my 30’s) I’ve found a community of bloggers here in Indiana that are beyond comprehension in their awesomeness. We support each other, we help each other – and most importantly, we find ways to get together and develop that community in person. Girls nights, major events, smaller day trips. They are a real and present force in my life now.
[flickr id=”7034055449″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]On December 9th, 2006 I had a full hysterectomy of my remaining reproductive organs. This happened 7 years after a right ooferectomy (let’s loosely call it an ooferectomy as technically there wasn’t any ovary left).
This was not voluntary. It was classified ’emergency’ – and happened just 10 days after the ultrasound revealed what I suspected, I had another non-functioning cyst. It had happened before – to my right ovary. A non functioning cyst that had been discovered in April of 1997 grew into a 5lb mass that completely obliterated my ovary. So when this cyst first appeared we treated for it, but instead of shrinking it grew. The emergency hysterectomy was scheduled.
By that point I had my 3 children. All that I ever wanted. I was ready to stop being surprised by pregnancies – and to stop that other regular hassle that all women have. My regular visitor had always been a painful mess, even when in peak health. I sure wouldn’t miss that (or the expense of it).
I was fine with it. Menopause? Pshaw. I’m ready. Sign me up for that surgery.
I’m still okay with it.
I have random bouts of hating menopause. What it’s done to my body. The hot flashes, oh the hot flashes.
Still, I’m good with it.
But every once in a while.
On the days when I see how big my girls are now. On the days when I see how removed my teen has become. On days when I see a tiny baby, so small and sweet. Or I remember the feeling of being pregnant.
Then, in the quiet moments – that is when I mourn.
Not because we could have had more (we couldn’t – not financially feasible at all). Not because I wanted more.
Because the choice is gone. The days are passed. I miss the days when the possibility was there. I miss the wonder, the joy.
We are set, our family is complete. We’ve known it all along.
Yet in small, almost infinitesimal doses, I mourn.
I was having a miserable several years in teen land (as many of us did). In 6th grade I went from having a decent amount of friends to being tagged as the biggest nerd in the school. The sudden shift was shocking and painful. It was aided by braces, glasses and the world’s worst case of acne.
In essence my self esteem was in the toilet (and still suffers to this day).
Summer before my freshman year my bro and Dad went college visiting one weekend and my Mom thought it would be a great idea to take me to her friends campground.
I was less than thrilled.
I didn’t realize it would change so much.
That weekend I met Kathy. She was pretty, confident, popular…everything I wasn’t. In that weekend, in that place it seemed like what I was back home didn’t matter.
We became fast friends.
For the next several years Kathy and I talked almost every day for about an hour and a half, and every weekend hanging out with our campground buddies. When school started we were on the phone every day after school. Met up on holidays, spent weekends at each others house.
It was a sorely needed friendship for me. Probably more than she even realized.
As time often does, it moved on. Life pulled us apart. I moved to Indiana (the first time). Then I moved to North Carolina, and when I moved to Virginia she went to Florida. We lost phone numbers and contact info. We drifted apart.
She found me 9 years ago and we managed to reconnect briefly. But it was one, maybe 2 phone calls and life got in the way again. We both had kids and husbands and jobs and were living life.
Just a couple of days ago after an exchange of a few facebook messages my phone rang.
It was Kathy.
9 years after our last conversation. 13 years after the last time we met face to face.
We talked for an hour and a half, just like old times. We talked about everything. Big and small.
Our conversation was about budgets and babysitting, home and family, jobs and mothering. A far cry from our conversations about boys, homework and school.
Yet, it was exactly the same.
We ended the conversation in smiles, promising to do it again soon and proclaiming each how it felt like absolutely no time had passed at all. That while life had led us in different directions that core of our friendship still held on strong. A chain as solid as steel, forged in the difficulty of teen years.
True friendship lingers even when life pulls us apart.
Traditions can make or break a holiday. The traditions we grew up with as a child are translated into something we try to do with our kids. Every year we add traditions or drop them, but if we don’t have any…our holiday can be only ho-hum. In my family there are several traditions that I continue to follow to this day. Christmas is not Christmas without them.
The first thing that makes it Christmas is listening to the The Oak Ridge Boys Christmas Album. How can you not hear Thank God for Kids with lyrics like “When you look down in those trusting eyes; That look to you, you realize; There’s a love that you can’t buy; Thank God for kids…” and not melt? There’s just something about this album that brings Christmas to our family. We ALWAYS listen to it on Christmas eve (there’s a song for that, too!!)
There are two movies that we must watch, too! First is Scrooge. It’s the musical version of a Christmas Carol and it’s just bright and cheery and perfect for decorating the tree with! And we canNOT live without Alastair Sim, the original Black and White version of A Christmas Carol. His pure joy when he wakes up on Christmas morning cannot be beat…even by the drool-worthy Patrick Stewart.
Beyond media, though…there is one specific tradition that has meant very much to me for the past 9 years. Christmas Eve.
When I was growing up as a child every Christmas Eve my brother and I would climb into one or the other’s bed (alternating every year) and my Mother would read The Night Before Christmas. The linked version is the one she read. The pictures were so magical to me. The way she read it brought life to the pages and made me so eager for Santa’s arrival. I can still remember the giddy joy of clamoring into bed, me on one side of her, my brother on the other.
When my oldest was born the tradition was passed on. My dad took up the tradition with his grandson, who meant so much to him. I bought myself the exact same version I’d grown up with, and my dad would read that – and then the bible story of Jesus’ birth (Luke 2:1-20).
Now my oldest is almost 10. I have two very young girls at home. The torch has been passed again – onto me. Now on Christmas Eve, I gather my babies close to me on the couch and we read The Night Before Christmas . I quote the bible scripture, having memorized it years ago. We play our Oak Ridge Boys and set out Cookies and milk for Santa…and if I’m thoughtful enough to remember, carrots for the reindeer.
I don’t know for a fact that my brother also carries on these same traditions, but I like to think that he does. They meant a lot to us growing up…and I’m so happy to pass them on. I only hope they mean as much to my children as they did to me.
******
This post was made in honor of a contest over at Sue’s Navel Gazing…but I probably would have made it anyway 😀 I love the holiday! Thank you, Sue for the prompt!!
And I did theatre too. Here I am as Laura Ingalls in Plum Creek…a play I wrote myself as well as starred in. Yeah…I’d almost forgotten about that. It was…sixth grade, I believe. The year before I was in a Lewis & Clark play as Lewis…
Then I became gawky….
And Geeky…
*******
And then I moved to Indiana. I had high hopes for a ‘new life’…but I’m afraid I remained in the geek realm. I was a flaggot…flag hag…I was in color guard. I started dating one boyfriend at a Star Trek Convention my junior year (Yes. I’m serious.) In fact, here we are a month later going out to a party…
But by just before my senior year I was not so much a geek anymore, at least I don’t think so, in appearance. I still didn’t have a ton of confidence…despite the fact that I did pageants (and did WELL in them), and was in dance, my self-confidence was shot. Here I am, slouching but pleasant enough, taking pictures for pageant stuffs…my hair was long, but not its longest…
I started dating Bryan. He was my first long term boyfriend…like we dated for three years, I think. We got ‘engaged’ *rolls eyes*…he was my first. He was also abusive. Emotionally and on rare occassion physically (I got slammed into a wall for saying ‘no’ one night). In my mind I thought I was happy. I thought I deserved a relationship like that. I was still the ‘nerd’ the ‘geek’. It wasn’t until years later that I learned the guys I crushed on in high school actually liked me back…and of course, it was too late then. Instead, I was with Bryan. By this time, looking back, I think I was pretty damn attractive, actually…totally not so geek like (although my love of STar Trek was still strong *lol*). As my prom picture displays, I was s’okay…but still with him.
Can you tell I regret being with him? I chose my college because of him. I got accepted to many schools, got a scholarship (small one that barely covered books, but a scholarship) to one…out of state schools, state schools…but I chose my school based on him.
Remember, I warned you before this all started…I was STUPID!!!! STOOOOPID!!!
So, I went to IU. One semester is all I lasted. I continued to date Bryan. I skipped class for Bryan…I only went to three days of classes. I don’t COMPLETELY blame this on me dating Bryan. I also blame it on the fact that I went to college for something I did NOT want to do. That was NOT related to dance in any way…and I hated every minute of it. Of course, adding to my stupidity is the fact that I continued to date Bryan when I could have had the hottie in that pic. *sigh* Yeah, he turned frat guy…but damn was he cute!!!
So, a semester at IU and I flunk out. I continue to date Bryan for another year and a half. I’m ashamed to admit that I begged him to stay with me when we broke up…but I was moving out of state anyway…so it’s all for the best. It’s an embarrassing part of my past…but it’s one I learned from. ********
Tomorrow I move on to North Carolina. Many things there…good school and birth of the DC.
Before I get to the part of my life where I bring in my DH, there’s a lot of backstory to go through…well, quite a bit. I’m short on pics right now (especially decent ones of me once I improved from geekdom)…but I’ll post those tomorrow once I have access to my bedroom (DH is snoozing now). ******
In the beginning there was me. And I was cute (seriously, check me out with my brother at 10). I was little and cute and very much what K is probably going to look like in about 7 years. I was happy, popular, and relatively outgoing – but a bit of a crybaby. I danced all the time, took many classes and by the age of this picture I was teaching little ones to dance (yes, seriously). P.S. Not the JELLIES on my feet! Yay for the 80’s!!
Then in sixth grade something very strange happened. The most popular girl in school decided I was a nerd. She told everyone…and that was the end of me. I was picked on constantly, and I wasn’t even truly geeky yet. But within the next two years I did it all. I got braces, glasses and zits like mad. Janet must have been psychic…or it’s true that you come as you believe.
Shortly thereafter I met Kathy. She was my bestest best friend. She was REALLY cute and VERY popular…but she didn’t go to my school. I met her at a campground – she was the cousin of my parents best-friends kid (you got all that?). After I met her I did something very very stupid in an attempt to be like her…I had my hair cut really short and permed…just like Kathy. Oy, you can see the sad sad results in this other picture (LOVE the HUGE glasses…don’t you?). This was a very bad point for me…ALTHOUGH I was happier than I had been for 3 years because of Kathy. She was genuinely nice and genuinely liked me. Our friendship lasted for YEARS.
The next year the hair grew out and I started to come out of the zit zone, and was actually looking halfway decent. This was me, Kathy…and my cousin, obviously:
That same year I fell in love with Mark. He was fi-ine…but he was dating my BFF (of course, the cute one) Kathy. I got his BFF Eric…who had a big nose and wasn’t a good kisser. Mark and I developed a close friendship, close enough that he used to write me from boot camp. We never dated, and I’ve since learned that he got married and had 6 kids and got fat…but back then he was fine and I SOOO Crushed on him!!!
And we moved to Indiana my freshman year of high school. New school = new hope? But does the hope pan out? Possibly…but you’ll see tomorrow 😀
Album. How can you not hear Thank God for Kids with lyrics like “When you look down in those trusting eyes; That look to you, you realize; There’s a love that you can’t buy; Thank God for kids…” and not melt? There’s just something about this album that brings Christmas to our family. We ALWAYS listen to it on Christmas eve (there’s a song for that, too!!)
. It’s the musical version of a Christmas Carol and it’s just bright and cheery and perfect for decorating the tree with! And we canNOT live without Alastair Sim, the original Black and White version of 
. His pure joy when he wakes up on Christmas morning cannot be beat…even by the drool-worthy Patrick Stewart. 
. The linked version is the one she read. The pictures were so magical to me. The way she read it brought life to the pages and made me so eager for Santa’s arrival. I can still remember the giddy joy of clamoring into bed, me on one side of her, my brother on the other. 