lovelygirl and me

lovelygirl and me

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

freshcleanpalette

My mother-in-law came over today, and together we painted the walls "Ultra White" in the room that will be our girl's room.

A fresh palette. When we bring her home, she can help decide what colors she wants on her walls, and what she wants painted. She will have an artist for a mom, so she can pretty much pick anything!

"Grandma" brought some things she had to dress up the room. Cute little music boxes, butterfly shaped glass dish with a lid and other girlie-girl things. She is excited too. Since she has no grandaughters, she has only been able to buy things for boys. Now she will have a grandaughter.

It's okay to spoil some. There is some making up to do in my way of thinking. Over due. In moderation. *Smile.* Can I really resist? I think not!

We dragged the bed in and set it up. Wish the room was bigger. What can I do? It is cute though. I think she will like it.

Starting over in a new home provides the chance to "wipe the slate clean" and "start over." You can't leave the past behind, but you can put it in a safe place and move on. It's our job to show her how.

A fresh, clean room. A new start. A fresh clean palette.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

onelesslonelygirl

Trying to look at the world through 10 year old "tween" eyes. Normal school girl crushes, fights with girl friends and all those things that have long since collected dust and cobwebs in the far recesses of my mind.

Now slash those. Contort them with pain and loss. Twist them with abuse and neglect. How does the world look now? How can one lonely girl see the world when all she knows is sorrow?

She wants to belong. To fit in. To be loved, unconditionally. No more bags packed. No more starting over. No more trying to be the perfect child so you won't be given back.

I can feel the longing in her heart. It stretches out across the vast mountains and valleys in the distance that separates us. Clinging desperately to my bleeding heart.

"If you let me inside your world, there'll be one less lonely girl."

Just a few lines from a song sung by the tween heart throb, Justin Beiber. Powerful words.

"I'm comin' for you, comin' for you."

Mother~someone who understands your past, believes in your future, and accepts you today just for who you are.

One less lonely girl.

"A Grandma's Love"

I decided to put this story I wrote on my blog. It was published in a book called, "Relationships And Other Stuff." Hope you enjoy:

Standing guard upon the top of my old blue pie cabinet is a pair of chickens. Front and center, surrounded by an array of antique kitchen gadgets, they have quietly watched over my kitchen for a number of years now. A rooster and his hen nestle together in faded reds, greens and yellows.
My grandma gave them to me before she passed on. It was a hand-selected gift. Not from a fancy department store, but rather from the top of her refrigerator in her own kitchen. I accepted them with great humbleness as she told me how Grandpa had given them to her on one of their earliest anniversaries.
After my Grandpa’s death, many of the family members squabbled over Grandpa’s cherished items. It hurt Grandma greatly. So, she took it upon her self to hand out her own gifts before she, herself, died. She wanted to make sure each of us had something precious to remember her by.
I knew that each item meant something special to her, and that each represented memories she had that were attached to the item itself. So, when she handed me the rooster and hen, I searched her face for answers. I could not recall any particular moment with them. I knew they were a constant in the Schwilke household. Every family get- together that I could remember, the rooster and hen had presided over all.
She smiled, and then gently turned the rooster in the light, and there I could see small lines appearing at the base of the tail, wrapping around to the other side. Cracks. Faint as they were, they were there. It had been broken and glued back together.
“Your Grandpa fixed them,” she said simply. And I knew in my heart that I had been the culprit of the rooster losing his tail. I had broken it. She handed the hen to me.
I examined the hen, and could see that she too, had been broken--- more than the rooster had, for there were actual chips missing along the base of her head. Poor hen, I must have broken her entire head off. I couldn’t remember doing it, but I had.
Tears filled my eyes as I thought of Grandpa, painstakingly gluing this treasure back together. I don’t recall being spanked for the crime, or even hollered at. It was out of pure love for his wife that my Grandpa repaired this precious gift, a memento of their cherished day.
They had the best kind of love. Unconditional love. Through the years, when my grandma slowly gained weight, he used to say with a wink, “I don’t mind at all, it keeps all the other men away from my beautiful bride.” He always had a twinkle in his eye just for her. He often patted her backside, and she would giggle and say, “Oh, Harold!” and then she would go on singing the words to an old song, Beautiful Dreamer. I can still hear her singing or whistling that tune and smell the venison steaks sizzling in the frying pan.
As I stood with Grandma that day, I realized how deeply she loved me. Even though I had broken something very precious to her, she didn’t hold any anger towards me, and neither had Grandpa. They had continued loving me unconditionally, their clumsy granddaughter, as I grew into adulthood. She held me tight to her bosom after giving me her gifts, a long cherished hug told me of her love for me. It was to be the last hug she shared with me. My grandma passed away not long after.
Even now, after many years passed, the lesson keeps coming back to me. The proud rooster and his hen stand as a lesson in love. They remain a testament of the unconditional love that we all must have for each other. No earthly possession is so valuable that if broken accidentally by tiny hands should cause that love to waver.
I do not have any grandchildren yet, but hope someday I will. The rooster and the hen will make sure that I am reminded of how to love my little ones unconditionally. If tiny hands accidentally break them, I will remember my Grandma, and not be angry. A little glue and they will be as good as new. Ready to stand guard over the next generation: a Grandma’s gift of unconditional love.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

tappingoffingers

Waiting is so hard! I am one of those people who try and respond right away to people's emails, texts or voice mails. When other's don't, I get a little frustrated.

I was supposed to let "A"'s caseworker know if that weekend works for us to go meet "A." Can I reach anyone??? Not even my own adoption worker answers my emails. sigh.

Impatience. I have waited a very long time to adopt. First one was foiled by my ex-husband cheating on me. So, over 10 years. Of waiting. Impatiently at times.

Seems funny, that not all people can understand that wait. They haven't experienced life yet. Haven't experienced loss. They take it for granted that if you want a child, just have one when you feel like it.

So, I sit. Tapping my fingers impatiently. Waiting.