Mother's Day

I've really been bad at keeping this updated. I think I have a new incentive though. I recently purchased my own book binding machine. I'm so excited to try and put this blog together and get it printed for the girls. I want to try and archive certain years of our travels and life together for them. I had actually started a "autobiography" at the beginning of the whole adoption process and I quit writing it only because I was overwhelmed with emotion and hadn't a sense of direction. A person is so very complex and three dimensional that it's hard to put words down on paper. Starting from a single point and trying to jot your life down somehow makes the pages seem very flat indeed if not constructed properly. I bought a book several years ago at a book discount warehouse to help me with direction. But there were so many questions I froze up wondering where to begin and how to make it all flow together.
I found it difficult as well to write about my past. Lots of buried emotion and things long left behind that I don't need to remember or feel anymore. Writing about that stuff, looking for just the right words, puts you back in the moment so that you have to accurately paint a picture to convey a message left my heart heavy and my mind drained. Most painfully are the memories of my mom that are beginning to fade. Having children of my own now I wonder how mom was with my brother and I when we were three years old? Do I parent more like my mother or father? Was mom patient? Did dad discipline us or did mom? I know without a doubt mom hollered a lot, probably where I get my volume from I'm sure. Did she feel like I do, wondering how she acquired her skills since she lost her mother at such an early age too? I only got four more short years with mine than she got with hers. Even now the loss is still very real and there's a great sorrow that overcomes me. I miss her.
I'm so grateful for my own two beautiful daughters. I can relate now how my mother must have felt when she had only me and my dad talked her into having another child. Mom told me many times she didn't want any more children because she was afraid she wouldn't love the second child enough. Thank God she conceded to my father's request. She said she loved me enough to give me a sibling. A brother that I was lucky enough to grow up with. My mother grew up and only child until the age of twelve, then she too had a sibling, a sister. So she got to experience both sides of the fence and that's probably the only thing that saved me from being an only child.
So what's my point here? Frankly not sure, just rambling on. I want my children to know one of these days just how much I love them. I hope their memories of me don't fade as fast especially if I can give them something tangible to hold on to. Some small tattered book that they can put on a shelf and get down when they're feeling a little lost or because perhaps they are curious about how I must have felt. Was I happy on May 11, 2009? (Guam time!hahahaha)
I'm happy today stinker pinkers because I have a family that I cherish, friends that I hold dear and a faith in God that I know He's blessed me abundantly. Hopefully I can get my thoughts together and turn this vision of an historical account into something you'll have for a lifetime.
If you have a mother that's still here, healthy and breathing, make her write stuff down. Cherish your time spent together and love one another whatever the difficulties between you may be. Life goes by way too fast.