Thirty Days of Truth - Day Nine

Since I'm feeling a bit better today, and because I'm finding that I've lost quite a few followers throughout my away time which makes me terribly sad, I'm going to try to catch up here a little bit.  So to get the show on the road, here we go.  Day Nine.

Someone you didn't want to let go, but just drifted.

There have actually been quite a few of these, I think another side effect of my sleeping disorder.  In some ways it's a lot like depression, or maybe it's the depression that is a side effect of the disorder, I don't know.  It's hard to force myself to do things sometimes.  Well, a lot of times.  I don't call people like I should, I mean to send cards and keep in touch and time just keeps passing and then I feel like it's ridiculous to try to regain something that's slowly slipping away.  I'm actually in that place right now with one person even as we speak.

The first was one of my best friends.  We worked together at the grocery store, were literally inseparable, and then we got married.  Had kids and had disagreements about how to best be a Mom.  She didn't understand why I couldn't drive out the hour to her house and just let Kitty sleep on the way there and back.  I was a "When it's bedtime, Kitty gets her crib" kinda Mom.  No driving around all hours of the night with her sleeping in the car seat.  Go figure huh?  A narcoleptic obsessed over her infants sleeping habits.  Oh well.  I haven't spoken to or seen her in years and some day?  I wish I'd done things differently, wish I'd kept in touch.  Other days, I'm just thinking that it's a two way street and what's meant to be will always be.

The next, oddly enough was family.  My cousin.  We grew up almost six hours apart, but with parents who can't drive it seems a lot farther.  We visited during the summers and sometimes they spent time with us during the summer.  We were like sisters until boys came along.  I guess that's no surprise.  She didn't want to leave her boyfriend of the moment to come to Richmond for a week, so we spent less and less time together.  Then we got married, had kids six months apart.  Then she went through a series of divorces, moved around a lot, things got difficult and well, now I haven't talked to or seen her in probably 10 years.

The last one?  I'm halfway trying to keep it from happening, but I think it's at the stage that it's almost inevitable.  I've mentioned that I roleplay.  For two years, I roleplayed with this person, and for two years we created one of the most intense, most realistic relationships I think you can in writing.  I devoted so much time and energy in the writing it was like an extension of myself.  I know at the time that it was something I NEEDED.  To create something that was perfect because my life had fallen apart.  No job, health sucking, no money, seemingly no hope.  When we wrote, all that disappeared and this miraculous story unfolded.  Unfortunately, people do what the need to do when they need to do it, and sometimes, it's to fill a void.  I don't know if that was the case for her, but after two years, she found other things and stopped writing.  We tried to keep in touch on facebook, and we still talk, although it's rare.  I think I still feel hurt that she walked away the way she did, even though I can't blame her for it.  I don't know, I don't want us to ever NOT be friends, but right now it just feels so distant and I miss those days when we talked every day and shared so much together.

And that my friends, is the end for now.   Another day, another truth.

Yours truly,

Thirty Days of Truth - Day Seven

Since I'm still awake, this technically counts as today, as in not yesterday which technically happened about a half hour ago.  Yup.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Day Seven - Someone who has made your life worth living.

There are too many people I could say this about.

My Mom, who has always been an inspiration to me.

My Dad, who even after he was gone, always left me wanting to be more like he'd been.

My Husband who has never given up on me no matter how psycho I've gotten.

Honestly though, if I HAVE to pick one, it would have to be the one any mother would choose.

My daughter.

I've never been one to keep up with periods.  I figure they're bad enough when they come, they don't deserve to be scheduled.  The day I realized it had been a couple of months since I had one, I actually remembered the night that made me stop having them.  One of those "You're kidding me????  Really?" moments of clarity after the fact.

I had pretty much decided I didn't want to have kids.  I don't really do that well with them until they're into tattoos and piercings and talking about grown up stuff.  Not that I don't like them or anything, I've just never really been into hanging out with the wee ones.  I do okay with them when I am with them, but well, you know what I mean.

I'm not revealing anything my husband doesn't already know so don't feel bad for him.  My first thought was pure terror.  I was pregnant.

For three solid months I cried.  I was horrified.  I didn't really want to be pregnant at all.  That changed the very first time I felt that little life inside me move.  A single push against my stomach and I was in love.  My pregnancy (other than the tears) was picture perfect.  No morning sickness, no missed sleep, I only gained 19 pounds which I lost three of with the flu the week before she was born.  Eating was no problem because all I wanted was watermelon, popsicles and white grapes.  Perhaps that's WHY I only gained 19 pounds, or maybe it was because my german doctor threatened to not deliver the baby if I gained over 25, who knows.

Labor was a little bit of a different story, but I won't go into it here.

From the moment that little girl was born, she became my life.  I started striving to be a better person because I was HER mother, and I wanted to be everything that would make her proud.  What I didn't know then was that it didn't matter to her what I did for a living, what I looked like, or anything else.  She loved me for being me and that in itself was a lesson in love.

Watching her grow, seeing her mature into the beautiful young woman she is today has been worth anything to me.  She's my best friend, the coolest person I know.  Through a bout of depression that had me thinking of suicide, even though I'm pretty sure I'd never go through with it, thinking about her would draw my thoughts to better things.  Every day with her has been my own miracle.  She inspires me, motivates me, makes me laugh, makes me cry, makes every day a new adventure and I love her so damn much I can't imagine now having never had her.  Never experiencing the "uppy, uppy" or "do it again, do it again!" or "little bear's over, nappy time", never fighting with her to get rid of her pacifiers, it's all just unfathomable now.  I'm a mother.  I made a beautiful little person (with some help of course!) and in turn that little person has made me a better person.

Now with her being an adult, getting ready to graduate and start college, there's just as much to look forward to, even if it's different than the pretty little smiles over the sides of her crib.  It just goes to show that being a mother never changes, just the experiences that go along with it.  Once a mother, always a mother, and that my friends, makes every single day of my life worth living.

And now, the mandatory Mommy Pride option.  Pictures.  The Kitty Princess.

With my Grandfather, 1995

Horse Show, 1999

One of my fave pics of her ever.

And now I'm done.  Thanks for ooooh'ing and aaaaaah'ing appropriately.  :)

Believing - Trust and of course, Santa

Once upon a time I was a prolific writer of poetry, it's been years since I wrote any, but it's possible I'll get back into it since I'm finding some of my older poems and getting that itch again.  Thought this one would be perfect for the season and of course to show off a picture of my kitty princess back when she was a kitten princess!

Seeing is believing
I imagine

a world torn by
an absence of the

elemental faith
of innocence

"Don't tell me you believe in Santa?"

she looks at me
as if asking reassurance

only five and already
she is tainted -
confronted by skepticism

more and more I'm finding
that seeing?

is not believing,
but believing bring seeing

yes, she believes in Santa
because she sees him

in my eyes.

©Donna J. P. Riley

A Search for Christmas (Getting into the Spirit)

My husband still thinks I'm crazy. You see, when my daughter was two months old, I decided she needed a Christmas tree in her room. Not one of those table top versions but a REAL tree, floor to ceiling version. Reluctantly, my significant other agreed, the only concession being that I get one of the slender ones. 

Well, little did I know at the time that there was not a single one of them left in the entire city of Richmond. After spending three days calling every retailer in the city, and about 1,000 miles of travel across town and back again and again, I made an offer. 


One local craft store had a display set up with twelve of the trees that I wanted, all decorated and everything. So....I suggested to the manager that they take everything off one of the trees and sell it to me. I even offered to pay for the labor to remove the ornaments. Seemed reasonable enough to me at the time right? After all this was the very same store that had promised they would have 500 trees come in that day which was why I was there in the first place. 


Well the manager informed me that the only way they could sell it off the floor was exactly how I saw it. The price? $400.00. The truly frightening thing is that I actually considered doing it. Paying $400.00 for a $50.00 tree. Amazing what desperation will do to you. I stood thinking that I could take some of the ornaments and use them on the family tree, use some as gifts to the mailman, the baby-sitter, etc., and could use the rest as gift toppers. Thankfully though, sanity returned and I made sure that the manager would retreat to his office and pencil my name in directly below that of Zsa Zsa Gabor's on his "customers to be avoided at any and all costs" list. 

So it was back to the drawing board for me. More trips across town, more phone calls and finally, a payoff! I called the above referenced store since they had promised me faithfully they'd have more coming in later in the week. They told me that those trees had still not come in, but that one tree had been returned and thankfully for us all, it wasn't the manager who answered the phone. 

Guaranteed that it had a sweet yellow HOLD tag on it with my name in big bold black letters, I rushed out on a wing and a prayer, determined that my only child would have this tree in her room before she reached puberty. 

It was there, just like they promised and exactly as I had pictured it in my Christmas spirit clouded mind. I rushed it home and barely had the box in the house before I was assembling this icon of Christmas perfection. I spent three hours shaping every single little branch and twig to assure absolute perfection before it dawned on me -- I had nothing to put on the tree after I finished making it perfect. All the heartache and effort to get the tree, and standing before me was the perfect synthetic evergreen without a single ribbon, bell or bow to adorn it. 

Exhausted from the search, I decided to sleep on the matter, although truth be known, it was already too late to even attempt to go out and get the job done. I'm sure you've got a pretty good guess what I dreamed about that night. Talk about "visions of sugarplums". After a very busy night of sleep, it came to me. I remembered those construction paper garlands we used to make thousands and thousands of feet of as kids. It was perfect! While I was out getting the construction paper, I could pick up the lights and some ornaments too. 

After two to twelve hours of frenzied shopping and a wallet $200 lighter, I cam home bearing the fulfillment of my wish in about a zillion of those little white plastic shopping bags. A tablet of construction paper to make the garlands, 600 bright colored lights, about 50 ornaments and a little angel for the top of the tree with lights in her skirt. I spent another three hours making sure the lights were as perfect as the tree, then three more cutting and glueing construction paper and finally, ornamentation begins! 

My daughter was asleep in her crib right beside the tree oblivious to all but her own little sugarplums. She woke before I finished up, so her Daddy took her in the den so I could finish up and she wouldn't see the tree before it was finished. After finally making sure that the tree would meet the very highest standards, it was almost time for the "grand illumination". I got Meaghan aka Kitty, dressed in a little velvet Christmas outfit and put bows in the little hair she had at the time, all the while ignoring my husband's eyes rolling around in his head like marbles at a "He Man Woman Hater's Club" marble tournament. I was actually beginning to wonder myself if all the energy and effort I had expended had been worth it. 

I still carry the picture of her face when she saw that tree and I've never questioned the effort since. Another concession was the angel, seems she just couldn't sleep with an angel blinking her skirt in the dark. (Who knew the lights BLINKED????). All in all though, that tree was the wisest investment in joy I've ever made. 

Meaghan is three now and we pick out new ornaments together each year, which is more fun than I had that first year, although it did cross my mind this year that one of these days, her idea of the perfect ornament will leave Miss Piggy in the barnyard and Raggedy Ann in the rag bin under the sink, but I've decided to worry about that a little bit later. 

She helped me decorate the tree this year, this being the first year she's been old enough to actually help, and it was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. To see the smiles, and hear that innocent laughter was to me, the spirit of Christmas in it's truest form. Whenever anyone comes to the house, she immediately regales them with tales of her tree and takes their hand to lead them upstairs to her bedroom. Of course she also tells them that she did it all by herself. This year I added lights to her changing table, which is now being used as a refuge for endangered animals of the stuffed variety. I also found some of those static cling ornaments and put those up all over her four sliding glass closet doors. It was really quite beautiful, and you can imagine my surprise when I came into her room the next morning to find all of them from about three feet down stacked atop each other resting peacefully in bed with her! 

I think at some point in your adulthood, Christmas loses a lot of it's "magic". I didn't even realize this had happened to me until my daughter was born. Actually, it was only this year while I was wrapped up in finding the perfect gift for everyone on my list, cleaning the house like a fanatic, just in case someone stopped by and making enough sugar cookies to feed the Foreign Legion. I realized that Christmas for us grown ups just isn't what it used to be. As with everything else, responsibility seems to take a little something away from us. 

I decided to take a break for a minute, to actually exhale for a little while, when I saw my daughter sitting in front of the television watching Frosty the Snowman. I bought this tape for her the year before last and I can actually mind-block Frosty now having seen the tape around 70,000 times. 


But this time, something happened. 


I heard her singing the little Frosty theme song and for her it goes something like this....."Frosty the snowman was a jolly happy snow, with a corn pipe and a butt nose and two eyes made out of hole".... I looked at her face and what I saw there brought back so many childhood memories, I found my eyes welling up. I remembered all of those Christmases, and all of a sudden, the magic was back. It was only for a little while, but nevertheless, it was there. I saw finally, what she had been seeing since we'd started decorating. The innocence of a child's simple amazement. That sounds so simple, but I look back at the typed words and think that perhaps that one phrase could capture the essence of the entire holiday season. It was a revelation to me and I enjoyed Christmas more this year than I have in a very long time. 

This year, I informed my husband that I'm going to keep Meaghan's tree up all year and decorate it for each holiday. You're right, he thought I was crazy but he loves me, so he humors me every once in a while, and besides he gets the added pleasure of looking on while I go nuts trying to find the perfect ornaments for St. Patricks Day. It's going to be a lot of fun I think, although I do have one question.....Does anyone know where I can find little hanging shamrocks? Or maybe some green lights? OH OH OH I know! Wooden leprechauns.....ooooooh even better, four leaf clovers???? 

Why do I have a feeling this is not going to be as easy as I thought it might be. 

Donna J. P. Riley 
December 29, 1995 

________________________


A little thing I wrote many many years ago, but oddly enough, reading it again, it seems like just yesterday.  She doesn't have room for that tree in her room anymore.  Clothes and books and cd players and dvd players and playstations and posters of musicians have taken up all that room, but she still loves helping me decorate the downstairs.  The village is her favorite part and every year, no matter how broke we are, we manage a trip to the Dollar Tree to pick up a few more things to add.  


She just turned 18, and the past four years have been rather hellish.  As a parent, we always want to do things for our kids, and well, it just hasn't happened lately.  For her 18th birthday, we managed to scrape together the extra 20 bucks to get a necklace she'd had in layaway out for her.  I cried for weeks prior to her birthday about letting her down. 


It seems though that maybe the magic isn't just Christmas, it's the people we love.


Kitty has never cared about "things".  She's a miracle teenager I think.  She's happy shopping at Goodwill although she'd rather shop at American Apparel.  She's fine with WalMart when she loves Bygones (a vintage clothing shop here in Carytown with pricetags to make you weep).  Maybe we really CAN have that spirit of Christmas year round if we let go of the material and just rejoice in the blessings in our lives every single day.