During my shower tonight, I was having an imaginary conversation in my head. I was imagining a situation in which I had to defend myself in front of "prestigous" people and in my mind my excuse was, "What do you expect? I came from nothing!"
Nothing. Really? That was the first excuse that came to my mind? How absurd. The imaginary situation faded from my head and I was then thinking to myself, "Why do I think I came from nothing? Just because we weren't rich growing up?"
I think back to my childhood and I feel so blessed. My parents were together, and still are, and I never once doubted their love for me. My brothers, although we had our issues (ha!), clearly loved me. I never once went to bed hungry and I never lacked for clothes, warmth, education, or love. How lucky was I! I have such warm, fond memories of running to the house from getting off the bus after school and racing my brothers to the house so that I could be the first to sit at the table and enjoy a freshly made bun or chocolate chip cookie and be the first to tell mom about my day. It was always a race to get our stories out because less than an hour later, Dad got home and had stories for Mom. Everyone was clamoring for Mom's attention and she was busy preparing supper, us kids had our chores and homework and needed the time to unwind and play (and sometimes fight). Supper time was a family event, all of us at the table, tv off (no books for me), and conversation. Mom's delicious supper always hot and plentiful... Bedtime was a relief from a busy day, often with books before bed, hugs and kisses from Mom and Dad, and being tucked in tight. I can still feel the heavy, comforting exhaustion of laying in bed, smelling fresh from my bath, with clean tight sheets and soft jammies, raising my arms to hug my parents. I loved how Dad would tuck me in tight - so tight I couldn't move and if I thought about it too much I would get claustrophobic, but mostly I would just fall asleep with the blankets snug around me, wrapping me in a lingering hug. Mom would brush my bangs from my forehead and I would sleep peacefully.
Of course, it wasn't all sunshine and roses, but the issues we had as a family are common and minor compared to those issues of many families. Those issues cultivated the people my brothers and I have become, how we deal with our issues, how we lean on each other and God when things get tough. Love, forgiveness, hope, and God... those are the things my family believes in. How is that "nothing"?
I realize now that I don't truly believe I came from nothing; it was just a convenient knee-jerk reaction when my guard and all defenses were up (granted, in an imaginary conversation. uff. I must be a nut.). And having analyzed myself and my reason for thinking all this the last 2 hours, I turn my thinking, as I always do, to Ruby.
How can I raise her to feel that she grew up with "everything"? We don't have everything as far as material things go, that's for certain. But we do have a nice, warm home. We have plenty to eat. I have a running vehicle and a great job. I have a wonderful, loving family and super friends. And we have each other.
The last 2 days, Ruby has been sick with the stomach flu. Her first flu. I have been home from work the past 2 days with Ruby, changing diapers, changing clothes, holding her, rocking her, feeding her, playing when she feels up to it... just loving her. It's certainly not fun to see her feeling unwell, but it gives me the opportunity to comfort her and love her in ways that her 10-month old independence sometimes refuses these days. I am so grateful for that. The other night, she was sick and I was holding her over the puke bucket and her tiny body was tense and she was fevering and sweaty and just so miserable. When she was through, I wiped her face with a cool wet washcloth and then laid her on my chest and rocked her in the rocking chair. She did not cry nor did she fall asleep. She just laid there, so exhausted. I didn't want to talk or sing to her in case she wanted to sleep. We just silently rocked together. After a few minutes, she raised her head to look into my face. She looked into my eyes for a long moment, then laid her head back on my chest. I continued to rock her as my tears fell into her hair. It was like she was thanking me. I could feel it.
There are so many things I have done wrong already in her short life. But I know that I am doing some things right, too. I love her with a fierceness that no one can match. I want the best for her more than I want anything else in this life. At the start of each day, I tell myself that I am going to love Ruby my best today. At the end of each day, I ask myself, "Were you a good mama today?" More often than not, I go to bed satisfied with knowing that I met Ruby's needs and she knows that I love her. In the grand scheme of things, I think that's everything a child needs.
Nothing. Really? That was the first excuse that came to my mind? How absurd. The imaginary situation faded from my head and I was then thinking to myself, "Why do I think I came from nothing? Just because we weren't rich growing up?"
I think back to my childhood and I feel so blessed. My parents were together, and still are, and I never once doubted their love for me. My brothers, although we had our issues (ha!), clearly loved me. I never once went to bed hungry and I never lacked for clothes, warmth, education, or love. How lucky was I! I have such warm, fond memories of running to the house from getting off the bus after school and racing my brothers to the house so that I could be the first to sit at the table and enjoy a freshly made bun or chocolate chip cookie and be the first to tell mom about my day. It was always a race to get our stories out because less than an hour later, Dad got home and had stories for Mom. Everyone was clamoring for Mom's attention and she was busy preparing supper, us kids had our chores and homework and needed the time to unwind and play (and sometimes fight). Supper time was a family event, all of us at the table, tv off (no books for me), and conversation. Mom's delicious supper always hot and plentiful... Bedtime was a relief from a busy day, often with books before bed, hugs and kisses from Mom and Dad, and being tucked in tight. I can still feel the heavy, comforting exhaustion of laying in bed, smelling fresh from my bath, with clean tight sheets and soft jammies, raising my arms to hug my parents. I loved how Dad would tuck me in tight - so tight I couldn't move and if I thought about it too much I would get claustrophobic, but mostly I would just fall asleep with the blankets snug around me, wrapping me in a lingering hug. Mom would brush my bangs from my forehead and I would sleep peacefully.
Of course, it wasn't all sunshine and roses, but the issues we had as a family are common and minor compared to those issues of many families. Those issues cultivated the people my brothers and I have become, how we deal with our issues, how we lean on each other and God when things get tough. Love, forgiveness, hope, and God... those are the things my family believes in. How is that "nothing"?
I realize now that I don't truly believe I came from nothing; it was just a convenient knee-jerk reaction when my guard and all defenses were up (granted, in an imaginary conversation. uff. I must be a nut.). And having analyzed myself and my reason for thinking all this the last 2 hours, I turn my thinking, as I always do, to Ruby.
How can I raise her to feel that she grew up with "everything"? We don't have everything as far as material things go, that's for certain. But we do have a nice, warm home. We have plenty to eat. I have a running vehicle and a great job. I have a wonderful, loving family and super friends. And we have each other.
The last 2 days, Ruby has been sick with the stomach flu. Her first flu. I have been home from work the past 2 days with Ruby, changing diapers, changing clothes, holding her, rocking her, feeding her, playing when she feels up to it... just loving her. It's certainly not fun to see her feeling unwell, but it gives me the opportunity to comfort her and love her in ways that her 10-month old independence sometimes refuses these days. I am so grateful for that. The other night, she was sick and I was holding her over the puke bucket and her tiny body was tense and she was fevering and sweaty and just so miserable. When she was through, I wiped her face with a cool wet washcloth and then laid her on my chest and rocked her in the rocking chair. She did not cry nor did she fall asleep. She just laid there, so exhausted. I didn't want to talk or sing to her in case she wanted to sleep. We just silently rocked together. After a few minutes, she raised her head to look into my face. She looked into my eyes for a long moment, then laid her head back on my chest. I continued to rock her as my tears fell into her hair. It was like she was thanking me. I could feel it.
There are so many things I have done wrong already in her short life. But I know that I am doing some things right, too. I love her with a fierceness that no one can match. I want the best for her more than I want anything else in this life. At the start of each day, I tell myself that I am going to love Ruby my best today. At the end of each day, I ask myself, "Were you a good mama today?" More often than not, I go to bed satisfied with knowing that I met Ruby's needs and she knows that I love her. In the grand scheme of things, I think that's everything a child needs.
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