Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Dust if You Must

My Mom is always telling me to slow down and treasure my time a little more.  I just laugh and run faster into the swirl of work and kids and the stuff that takes all of my time and energy.  She sent me this today and I can't help but notice how sweet and true this is. 

My family spent a lot of time living this past weekend and a lot less time dusting.  I liked it.


Dust if you must . . .

but wouldn't it be better to paint a picture or write a letter,
bake cookies or a cake and lick the spoon or plant a seed,
ponder the difference between want and need?

Dust if you must, but there's not much time . . .

with wine to drink, rivers to swim and mountains to climb,
music to hear and books to read, friends to cherish and life to lead.

Dust if you must . . .

but the world's out there with the sun in your eyes,
the wind in your hair, a flutter of snow, a shower of rain.
This day will not come around, again.

Dust if you must , but bear in mind,
old age will come and it's not kind....
And when you go - and go you must -
you, yourself will make more dust!

It's not what you gather , but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Pour Your Heart Out

This week will mark the 9th birthday of my son and I am not quite sure how I feel about this one.  It feels as if we are rapidly hurtling towards him selecting a college I am so not OK with that idea.  To lose my grasp on him terrifies me and makes me miss him.  Long before he'll actually be gone.  And then I think - what if we don't make it that far?

Please don't judge me and don't say I am crazy.  Shell's Pour Your Heart Out is part writing exercise and part therapy for me.  And there is no truer fear in my heart than losing my son.  I hope and pray that if I can "pour it out" I can move on from it.  Or at least stop fretting over it for a while.

There's something buried in me that absolutely, genuinely believes that if something looks too good be true then it probably is.  I don't believe in perfect.  I cherish those sweet, sunny days that have a ring of perfection to them but even then I almost expect to have a car accident on the way home.  Twisted, I know.

My son is perfect to me.  I am sure if you asked someone else they would say he's too small, or we should really address orthodontia sooner than later, or something that would point out a minor imperfection.  But I think he is perfect.  I remember sitting on the side of the bed in our sunny guest room the day I found out I was pregnant with him and sharing the good news with my Nanny.  I was over.the.moon.  That feeling for him has not changed even once in the last nine years.

God blessed us with the kindest, funniest, smartest, most considerate child in the world.  He is a wonderful student and a gifted athlete.  He works hard, listens eagerly and doesn't question authority.  He has slept all night in his own bed since he was 7 weeks old. He is kind to his sister and loves God and his family.

Is he somehow not human?  Of course not.  I do not love his "all boy" approach to housekeeping or hygiene.  I would like for him to spend less time bulding trains out of Legos and more time reading books that challenge him.  I am not impressed when he brings home a test that is below his ability because he wanted to finish and go to recess.  Our relationship is real, but my love for him is beyond anything I ever even knew was possible.

He seems to good to be true.

And if that's the case then surely I will be smacked in the face with the grim reality of the world any moment now.  The harsh unforgiving world that doesn't let perfection linger.  The world that knows I have done nothing to deserve something so pure and ideal.

A few years ago I was hysterical quite often because he was not well.  He complained constantly of terrible headaches and fatigue.  He wasn't eating and when he did he wasn't digesting well.  I was convinced that my exposure to perfection was done and he was terminally ill.  My fear was absolute.  We pursued some testing and counseling and came to the conclusion that his focus on the "right thing" really didn't permit him to accept anyone who was doing the "wrong thing".  His anxiety manifested in a very physical way.  There was a lot of the "wrong thing" going on in kindergarten and we learned how to help him work through that.

Crisis averted.

I've not had any real fear like that since then, but it's always there.  Always threatening me.  The more I love him the more I fear that his fate has been determined.  I think about all of the the beautiful children that are tragically taken from their families by illness, or meanness or tragedy.  You hear it over and over again.

"She was just the brightest star in  the universe."

"We were lucky to have him for even a minute."

"God had better plans for him."

Recently I was ordering something from an acquaintance, who was referenced on her sister in law's blog, who referenced her friend who had a perfect son, with a perfect name who was in perfect health.  Before he tragically died at the age of 9.  Her first born bundle of vibrant perfection is gone forever. Be still my heart.

There is absolutely no reason that I should have been connected to this woman who I don't know.  None.  I was buying a gift for my brand new niece and there she was talking about "her Max" and how they had to fly home from vacation without him.  My heart shattered in a million pieces for her family and makes my hands tremble when I think about my own perfect son.

But I felt a little bit like it was a reminder.  A reminder that even if something is too good to be true it should be cherished all the more.  To celebrate clean laundry and fish sticks.  To stop digging for perfection and linger over bedtime prayers.  to be sure and tell everyone you love how much you mean it whenever you get the chance.

If our life is too good to be true I want it to end knowing that we took full advantage while it was here.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011


My boys melt me.  I am smitten with my husband for a variety of reasons and my son has ALL of those qualities and then some.

They look alike and I love their liquid brown eyes

They think alike and both overanalyze everything

They talk alike and they are flippin' hee-larious

Yin & Yang

Two peas in a pod

You get it?

So all four of us are in the car and we're driving down the road on Sunday going to The Athlete's baseball practice.  Everyone is yammering about something and nothing simultaneously.  And then E says something to The Athlete that requires a response and says

"Right Big Guy?"

And IMMEDIATELY The Athlete says

"Right Little Jacket!"

If you don't know what El oh El (LOL) means it means LAUGH OUT LOUD.  And just that I did.  Chris Farley died five years before my son was ever born, but even he never made me laugh the way those two clowns did in my own car on Sunday.  Thank the good lord for my boys and belly laughs.  May you Rest in Peace Chris Farley.  Your legacy lives on  . . .

Monday, February 14, 2011

Love to Love

There's nothing I love more than love.  And there's nothing to love that's any greater than the loves in my life.

Our newest love, Charlotte Brooke, was born on Februrary 10.

I love my sweet girlfriends and how much they love me back
even when they have their own loves to love

And I just love, love, love to love my loves in all their sassy sweetness

And it's so lovely to still be IN love with the love of my life
even after 15 years of Valentine's Days

Much Love to you and your Loves
~ xoxo~
Mrs. Montoya

Friday, February 11, 2011

Friday Confessional

I Confess
It's been another helluva week.  I keep waiting for things to get better and I am sort of realizing that I might need to make that happen for myself.  And then I think great. Something else that I have to do.

I Confess
Something happened at our house last night that makes me think we are candidates for the Jerry Springer Show.  I do not think that's cool.

The Princess was crying, whining, whimpering (or something) in her bed for a long time.  I was pissed because I was tired and didn't want to get up.  But it was a long time and I thought  "must be the real deal".

I put on my Mom pants and went in and gently rubbed her on the back and asked what was the matter.  Her head spun around and she hissed at me -
"I'm not telling you"
and then she kicked me.  And I said
"eff off.  This is ridiculous."

What makes a mother say that to her child?!??! I am horrified. I think I need medication.

I Confess
I have no idea how we will survive adolescence with that girl and me in the house together. 

I Confess
I considered calling in sick today so I could get a mani/pedi.  I need one that bad.  And I am dying to go to the hospital and hold my brand new niece for a long time.  Those seemed like perfectly reasonable excuses not to show up for work. I'm sure it's better that I changed my mind.

This weekend will be filled with my family and some good stuff.  We need it in the worst way.  And I WILL go hold my sweet niece.  Happy Friday!!!


Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Pour Your Heart Out

We don't fight at my house.  I mean fight for real.  My kids pile on each other and express themselves too loudly and I have been known to tell my husband he's an idiot.  That's not a fight.  It's just life.

But last weekend I think we had a fight.  And I didn't like it.  At all.

I left without saying goodbye {I never do that}

He slept on the couch {He never does that}

We are both completely worn from the struggles of business and the pressure filled cycle of competitive sports and parenting sick kids who need more than we can easily give. And we took it out on each other.  That was a bad choice.

When there's a need for a truce I always back down first.  Harmony in my home means a lot more to me than proving whatever point I am hung up on at the moment.  Saying I'm sorry is never an issue for me.  But this time it was a little different somehow.  Sorry didn't come, because I wasn't.

I left home on Sunday before he woke up because I had already planned to spend a quiet day in the office to catch up.  I worked all day and missed my family.  When I called home to say goodnight The Princess had a fever again and I was just so deflated.  I wrapped up my last pass at a project and headed home with a cloudy mind and a heavy heart.

As I walked through a very quiet and still house a little blonde streak came running down the hall.  I kissed her hard and carried her the rest of the way back to where she came from.  The master bedroom was spotless and filled with the smell of baby girl shampoo.  Her Daddy had given her a tepid bath in the big tub to help quell her fever and washed her hair for her.

::: big sigh :::

There was no grand gesture or a giant "I'm sorry".  But there was a little girl who was getting all the love and care she needed from someone who was just as hurt as me.  And that may have been enough.  Little girl shampoo and clean sheets is all I need sometimes. 

Love you, E <3

In the end, who among us does not choose to be a little less right to be a little less lonely. ~ Robert Brault

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Friday Confessional


My life feels a lot like it's spinning out of control right now even though I know in my heart it's not so bad.

Two sick kids and a home that looks like squatters have invaded it does not make me a happy camper.

I even told E that I think we should start looking at new houses.

The truth is, if I could actually get this one squeaky clean and organized again I might consider staying.


There is no such thing as work life balance. Whoever coined that phrase didn't have both. One will always get more attention and the other will suffer in the interim.

My career and my projects mean a lot to me but I could care less about any of it when one of my sweet angels needs their Mama. When something bad happens to them I am immediately consumed with guilt for taking my focus off of them for even a minute.

I know that it's not REALLY my fault that The Athlete has a sinus infection and The Princess is on the couch with a fever of 101*, but it really does feel like my fault when my babies are hurting.


When I buy Girl Scout cookies I say it's because I am supporting a great organization that I loved when I was a little girl.

The real reason I buy them is because I daydream all year long about the dark chocolate, caramel, coconut ones. Mmmmmm ridiculous, rich goodness.


I am a disgusted with myself for being such a cranky hag. But I don't even have the weekend to look forward to as redemption for my week.

A baseball meeting, a basketball game and a birthday party (all for 9 years olds, BTW!!) doesn't make much for a leisurely Saturday.

Oh,and the 8 AM meeting on Sunday. Yea, that's really the icing on my pity cake.

What's the truth about you? You can link up with Mamarazzi and Glamazon too and get it all off your chest!! That and some Girl Scout cookies could change your life ;)


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Ten Things - January 2011

The New Year always brings a sense of anticipation and a little bit of wistful {from me} about another year passing us by.  I am certain that we just had teeny tiny babies in our teeny tiny house and none of that is true anymore.  We're about to celebrate a 9th birthday and 6 is quickly morphing into sixteen.  I don't know what 2011 will bring, but there is always something to smile about around here.

Ten Things to love about January

Fresh starts

Sunny Sundays that felt more like July than January

Quiet moments where I find my two being sweet
without being asked

An unexpected chance to spend time with far away family

Cousins who are growing up together

Getting some serious girlfriend time
More than once

Finally turning in The Athlete's Indian diorama after begging him to stay focused working with him on it

Helping them stay close to their Grandparents - even 3,000 miles away

Reading bedtime stories to Nana

So proud of his Granddaddy's USMC uniform
ca. 1968

Getting a glowing report from The Princess' teacher on her reading, her writing, her eager class participation . . .
I guess if she's going to show off somewhere it might as well be school!!!

Cozy nights at home when even the dogs look happy

Today is the day that EmmyMom links us all up for Ten Things.  You do it, too!


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