Every day

I apologize in advance for all the touchy, feely, philosophical posts as of late, but today I'm only going to add to them.  Today is weighing heavily on my heart.

As I travelled to work this morning, I was late.  Eloic had been up throwing up all night, and although I was sleeping in the bedroom and Reno was up with him, I didn't sleep well.  I hit the snooze 2 or 3 or 4 times - I don't really remember - until finally, I begrudgingly got off my sorry butt and had a wake up shower.  I felt terrible leaving Reno with the kids since the boys were sick, but I knew I didn't have much of a choice.  I had to go to work.

Already late, I sped off to work.  Rounding the corner near Waldheim, I notice a sprayer parked on one side of the road, and a black car parked directly across from it.  There wasn't enough room to fit two vehicles between them on the highway, so seeing an oncoming truck I stopped behind the black car.  I was annoyed that I had to stop.  I didn't understand why they didn't at least stagger themselves on the highway to avoid this problem.  Why couldn't they be considerate enough?  Why did they have to slow me down on my already long commute?

Angrily, I got right back on track.  As I approached Waldheim, a fire truck sped on down hwy 312.  I briefly wondered if the fire truck was headed to the sprayer and car, but quickly brushed it off.  After all, there was no fire.  I thought nothing of the fire if there was one.  Reno was on the volunteer fire department for Laird for a couple of years.  Most of the fires were grass fires.  Most of the fires were benign.

My big concern when I got to work was to get in contact with Reno so I could find out how the boys were doing.  Finally we made contact, and what I found out shook my whole day.  That sprayer and car parked on the side of the road... those people who put such a kink in my morning commute... those people whom I was so angry with... those people were trying to save a life.

Our neighbor; a husband, father and grandfather; a leader in the church; the mayor of our village died tragically as I drove on by.  Leaving the highway, crossing oncoming traffic, crossing a ditch and field, Gordon Nesdoly crashed his vehicle into a man made dugout and died minutes before I drove on by.  Oblivious, in my own world, I drove on by.

I have about a billion questions that will never be answered.  What if I had stopped?  Could I have helped?  What if I hadn't been in such a rush?  What if I had been just 5 minutes earlier?  Truth be told, these are selfish questions.  I'm asking them to sooth my own soul.  Gord is gone.  I can't bring him back... nobody can bring him back.  The events of today would have happened regardless of whether I was there or not.  It doesn't change the way I feel though, and it's most definitely made me more appreciative of what I do have.

I drive that commute nearly every day.  I kiss my husband, tell him I love him and walk out that door almost every day.  I pass farms and fields, familiar vehicles, landscapes and roadways, with music cranked to keep me awake every day. 

Now I'm going to take my time a little more in my driving.  I'm going to spend a couple more minutes with family before heading out on the road.  I'm going to marvel at the beautiful landscapes and sunrises, and note the subtle curves and imperfections in the roadways.  I'm going to engulf myself in the silence of the morning. 

...Every day.

The good parent

Denali gave me a poem for Mother's Day.  The poem read:

Sometimes you get discouraged
Because I am so small
And always leave my fingerprints

On furniture and walls.

But every day I'm growing
I'll be grown up some day
And all those tiny handprints

Will surely fade away.

So here's a special handprint
Just so you can recall
Exactly how my fingers looked
When I was very small. 

I bawled.

Not because I thought it was sweet or endearing.  Not because it was so absolutely adorable (it really is!).  I cried like a blubbering idiot because I look at those handprints and already see the time that has blown by.  They aren't tiny.  They aren't the squishy little pudgy baby hands of my 6 month old.  They are the long, lean strong hands of my 7 year old.  A respectable, fantastically well behaved boy who I am proud to call my son.  So, I ask, why am I so sad to recollect the last almost 8 years of my life?

I think it's a lot of factors - all rolled into one.   Reno and I met in college.  I quit in my second year of Animal Health Technology and became pregnant pretty quickly into our relationship.  We had no money to spare.  We lived in a small apartment, lived on $50/week for food.  Aurora and Denali were both born while Reno finished up a diploma and a certificate course, and I worked an office position at a pet store.  I knew what I wanted to do with my/our lives, and Reno supported me all along.  Together we toted our belongings and two small children through 3 different cities/towns, living on meager student loans, government funding, and minuscule wages.  In the end of our schooling journey, I had my career, we bought our first house in a fantastic community - things were really on track!

But WAIT - we were expecting another child!  We knew we wanted more children, and while the timing wasn't the best, he was still a welcomed blessing :)

You have to realize reading this that anything we did as a parent with Aurora and Denali was really born out of necessity.  We simply didn't have the money or the ability to make a lot of decisions that a parent usually gets to make.  A lot of things we did a certain way because financially, we didn't have another option.  Space wise, we didn't have another option.  Energy wise, we didn't have another option.  We lived the way we had to, and we took each day as it came.  I'm proud of what we went through to make it where we are today, but that doesn't mean I don't look back and WISH it could have been different.

With Eloic, we had the freedom to make choices.  One of the choices we made was for me to be the one working and providing wages, and Reno was to stay home with the kids.  It's not a traditional choice, by any stretch, but it's one that works for us.  Do I wish it was the other way around?  In some ways, yes - in most ways, no.

Why yes?  A large part of me feels like a failure.  Why do I feel that way?  Our children have everything they need... they have food on the table, a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs, parents in a healthy and loving relationship, parents who love them and take care of them,  a mom who would rather be at work than home with her kids.... WAIT... say what?  Well, no - that statement is not entirely true, but is that they way they are going to feel?

I love my children more than anything in the world... ANYTHING.  While I thought that working and doing whatever we had to do to keep the family going was because we HAD to, little did I know, it would actually be a choice.  The real problem is that I want to do it all.  I want to stay home and be with my family.  I want to be there to kiss boo boos and send them off to school.  I want to be there to show them how much I love and care for them.  I also want to develop a career.  I want to use my brain to solve complex programming problems.  I want to walk in to my place of work with my head held high and know that I do a good job.  Unfortunately, it just doesn't feel like there are enough hours in the day. 

I can't be there for it all, and I feel like a failure for it.

I look back on all those years and see missed moments.  I look at pictures and weep.  Those chubby little cheeks and infectious smiles are gone.  The hugs and kisses and endless cuddles are fading. 

My babies are growing up, and if feels like they are doing it without me.