In the eye of the beholder...

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. I'm 30. I'm starting to get wrinkles and gray hair, gravity and child birth have had their tole too. I know that as the years go by it'll only increase. Daily I feel the pressure to look young and perfect. I have talked to or seen other female friends and family who  feel the same pressure of looking flawlessly perfect. It causes insecurity, anxiety, stress, eating disorders and inner pain among other negative effects. Something I have felt increase in the past few years personally is fear. I now fear of not being "woman" enough, beautiful enough, attractive enough to keep a man. I can tell myself daily, a hundred times over that I am beautiful. I can hear it a hundred times and yet, the doubt lingers. The what if is there- what if they're just saying that, what if they secretly wished I looked that way, what if it's just a lie and I'm not pretty...what if. Why? Well, you see, images such as these led my first husbands to the point of not being able to love and cherish me in anyway.My ex decided that he needed to leave and get himself freed from such images if he were ever to become a good father and husband. He was so very enslaved.Words cannot express or describe the anguish and turmoil of wanting to be loved and seen as beautiful in your natural state but feeling you'll never be seen that way by others, especially men, because of what the media pushes and says is the only way to be. It ended up dissolving my marriage of 7 years. I was happily married, had 3 beautiful boys and all of it gone because of woman being airbrushed, tucked, stuffed, dyed, and whatever else has been thought up to distort a womans image for someones ideal. 

MY questions is...who is that someone? Who in the world started saying that this is a way a woman should look or be and WHY in the world do we listen to them? Why do we let our men get away with thinking we should be that way. Why do we agree with them and practically kill ourselves in vain effort? Woman in other parts of the world such as Europe and even Hawaii  in older days were desired plump, full figured and natural. However, it seems that we as a whole were able to see the beauty at that time because we weren't fed such fake images since our childhood. We weren't "taught" by what we saw to want the impossible. 

 Well guess what Hollywood... I say NO MORE! It's back to the good old days for me. I'm not going to conform. I'm not going to cut myself into pieces, stuff myself to your ideal, dye, primp, nip, tuck, twist or pull into your fantasy. I have flaws and I REFUSE to hide any of them because they're NOT flaws! I've earned every wrinkle, gray hair and stretch mark. It makes me who I am and I AM beautiful! Why would I want to erase the beauty of every smile I've had, tear I've shed, worry or concern I've felt, dye away years of experience, cover the stretch marks that honor me with memories of motherhood and change how unique I am (my eye color, lip shape, etc) by trying to conform to another's idea of what they think is beautiful? There should be no ideal! So stop the guilt and pressure to twist my natural form into an impossible image so that you can make a profit.EVERY woman IS beautiful! She has every right to feel that way! 

You don't agree with me? Don't believe that you're beautiful? Go, look in the mirror. Can you see it? Maybe it's the way your eyes twinkle, or maybe it's your thick beautiful mane. Maybe it's the very wrinkles of time and wisdom and gray that make me look up to you knowing you've been there and may have great things to share. Maybe it's your smile that is so wonderfully contagious it makes others smile back. Maybe it's your hands and the talents that they have helped you develop. All of this beauty unseen even by ourselves because of an "ideal". Such a waste...

I knew a woman who didn't conform to those "ideals". Her name was Anna Jackson.  The pictures I saw of her told of her beauty in her youth...thick long curly hair, beautiful bright eyes, long smooth legs...I remember looking into this woman's eyes as I helped her dress because she was now past 90 and too frail to help herself. I remember seeing her eyes now hazy by cataracts, her face weathered and wrinkled, her once long thick mane now short and thin and her shoulders permanently bent.  Despite the "flaws" of age, all I really saw was such grace, wisdom, such humility and such regal beauty. Her eyes still sparkled and each wrinkle was a laugh or thought that she may of had. Her body and skin now stretched and marked, testifying of her sacrifice to birth 8 children and loosing 2 of them before their first birthday. Many many people from miles around would travel to see this woman at her now extreme age,bringing her gifts or flowers. Many were too poor and only had kisses and tears of gratitude to offer. I even witnessed a man, who's parents she had help many years earlier, drop to his knees before her and kiss her hands while thanking her, as tears flowed down his face. One would have thought she was royalty. She was, to them.They saw her beauty. They saw her lifes work. They honored her for it. When we walked into a restaurant or store, others would remark at how beautiful she was. She truly was beautiful.  Bent and with a walker, she still walked like a queen and looked like one because of who she was and believed herself to be. That woman was my grandmother.

I, like my grandmother, when it's all said and done at the end of my life know that my hair will be thin and gray, my soft skin gone with the wrinkles of time and by body frail and bent. I won't be the young "beauty" I once was.  I am now determined to strive for that lasting beauty my grandmother was able to develop and radiate in her old age. I say to the world...you want to see beauty? Then look at her. Look at those who have been through life and have come out shining. Look at those who are struggling and hurting but still smiling. Now, that is a beautiful thing to behold. Maybe beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder. We as woman could change that. First, by the way we see ourselves.

The video above is a great reminder as of why we are perfect they way we are naturally and why we have the right to believe so.

 

 

 

A Tale of 3 Little Boys

3 little boys all in a row. While one smiles, one starts to cry and the 3rd decides to be grumpy. If you put in some giggles, a few tickles and games... what wonderful laughter, hugs and kisses they give.
3 little boys in my house. One will be reading, the other singing and the 3rd likes to recite his ABC's. When you add in a friend and helper (Chelsey), a wonderful husband and the Savior...the house becomes a home.

 

My Daniel- 8 yrs.  One day littlest love, I will get to see the world you have created in that beautiful head of yours. I will take your hand and we will explore each others worlds together. I will finally get to talk with that sweet person,the one my spirit can feel, the one I catch glimpses of day to day. Until that day, keep on creating your glorious world and I will relish in the glimpses I can catch.Keep on blossoming and filling my heart with joy.I am so very proud of you son.

 

My James- 6 years. Bright eyes hungering to learn. Sweet smile and gentle arms waiting to love and comfort. So many talents within, my son, leaving me wondering what you will do with them, what greatness is in your future and why I was so blessed to be chosen as your mother. What an honor it is my sweet boy and oh how I love you.

 My Ben- 4 years. Little hands, little feet, big blue eyes and a smile. Little hands making messes, little feet never stopping, big blue eyes ever looking and a sweet sweet smile to get away with it all. One day, your hands will calm, your feet will slow and you will be grown. Till then dearest one, keep exploring and remember your smile,so that I may remember mine when I catch you in your mischief.

Mixed emotions

Right now my heart is in a twist and I have mixed emotions. I'm excited, tired, sad, anxious and worried. Not too uncommon for a typically woman but today is different.Why? Well, today my little boys will be staying overnight with their father. He used to only take them 4 days out of the month but I had asked him to start taking them for an evening during the week so that they could see him more often.
I wish I could say how excited I am to get a night off, because I am. My husband and I cherish the time alone we get. A nice dinner out, a stroll through the book store, a long soak in the hot tub, snuggling and staying in to watch a movie and snack on goodies. Sounds like a couples paradise. What any married woman with kids would wish for. It's the reason I'm excited ..and yet. I will miss them.I will wonder if they will be played with, laughed with. I will worry they won't receive comfort after a scrape on the knee, be held or talked to. I will ache during their bedtime to tuck them in, kiss them goodnight and make sure they know I love them. You see it's awfully hard to trust the one who'll be doing the caring for and watching over since he's broken that trust. It's a scary thing for a mommy. So despite my time to play, relax and enjoy, I will worry.
It's not so bad on the one nighters though. I can usually suck it up for one night and just enjoy my time alone knowing I'll see them the next day.  It's much worst however, when he takes them for a week at a time or for the holidays.Even though I'll be loving every second I have alone to focus on my wonderful husband, deep in a part of me I will be aching, wondering what I am missing. Am I missing their excitement for a trip to the zoo, a new movie watched, a new food tasted and the laughter that will follow at the silly faces made. Will it be their bright eyes filled with wonder at a new discovery, the beauty of a new drawing or craft made,a hug for Santa, a Christmas song sung with the wrong words, sweet faces covered in gravy and pumpkin pie, a prayer of Thanksgiving said by their sweet voices. I will be missing these special moments in their lives. Moments that should have been shared together as a family, will be hard to come by now, making every second I do have with them that much more precious, more than I had ever imagined.
Mixed emotions, bitter with the sweet. Teaching me just how good the sweet can be. I will enjoy every moment whether I'm alone or with them. Whatever it may be. I'll take comfort that my children are still here on earth with me. I will see them again tomorrow,to build and make up for some of the moments I may have missed. I am blessed and tonight? Well... Bring on the Mexican Food!!!

Haunted

Confession- ...I believe in Ghosts. Ok, not really Ghosts so much as the Paranormal. I know I might as well whisper softly, " I see dead people" but I'm not as cute as Haley Joel Osment and chances are that the nice people in white coats would be called to pay me a visit shortly after if I did start saying it. But I have to ask, " Have you EVER had anything weird happen to you that you just can't explain? Like a door closing when there is no breeze, or perhaps a distinct knocking so you go to the door and no one is there or you feel someone touch you but again, no one is there after you turn to ask that person what it is they want. I've talked to people that have...a loving aunt, a good friend, even my dear husband says he has. There was a time that I would listen to these stories and think to myself that they were great stories, lots of fun to hear and that the person telling me the story had a great imagination and that they're brains must have played a few tricks on them making more of the experience then what was really there. Although I believed in spirits and LOVED ghost stories as a young girl, I never actually believed that we would see things, or have weird things happen to us out of the blue. Come on that's just crazy talk right? Well whatever the theory out there is and there are a lot of them- ghosts, menacing evil spirits or evil spirits messing with you perhaps to just kill some time cause they have nothing better to do, some weird warp zone caused by the metals in the earth, history stuck in repeat or maybe aliens just messing with us like rats in a lab to see what we'll do...whatever the theory, whatever it is, all I know is that there are things that really do happen that no one can explain, leaving you scratching your head or just really really creeped out. I personally have had experiences. NO, no ghosts, apperations or whatever ya call it...no shadow people. Just,really really weird experiences and um, voices. Now, before ya call the people in the white coats to come get me, please realize that I'm right there with you when it comes to thinking that it's crazy and maybe all in my head. Also, I can't be crazy cause I at least don't "see dead people", remember? SO, even though it sounds completely nuts...I know what I heard and experienced and it's left me thinking, "Hmmm, ok, cool" or " well that was weird". Over the past few years I have started to experience strange stuff, but I'm going to share the most recent of my experiences. I figure it'll be fun to share a ghost story or two since it's Halloween season and what's more fun then a ghost story, right?Read, enjoy and judge for yourself:

Experience #1.
I had recently moved into a nice little 2 bedroom apartment. I'm sorry to say that the setting isn't quite right for a ghost tale. Nothing spooky, haunting or even old about this place. Which makes these experiences even weirder because according to the "experts", spooky stuff should only happen in older places where the... whatever you call it or them-I'll call them ghosts for now- ok, ghosts are attached to something cause they used to live there. Sadly no, it's just a modern apartment. It was late at night. I had finished bedding my 3 boys down and was settling in my bedroom at my computer for some  reading and net browsing. As I sat staring at the screen, wondering whether to play a game on Facebook or to look up a movie, I heard laughter. Little children laughing and giggling. I honestly thought that my 3 boys had gotten out of their room,tip toed across the living room and were peeking into my room, giggling at their bravery for sneaking out of bed. I immediately turned to tell them to get back into bed. However,no one was there. I immediately stood and began walking to their room, making my way out into the living room, then across it expecting to catch my kids in the act every step of the way. I reached their door and it was shut. I thought, " How could they have closed the door without me hearing it? My room is only a few feet away. Man they were fast".  I opened their bedroom door. There were my 3 boys, sound asleep. One was even slightly snoring. It couldn't have been them.

Experience #2:
I have a rug underneath the dining table to catch the crumbs from my messy little guys as they eat. Since they're so messy, I keep my vacuum plugged in and ready for my 2-3 times a day vacuuming. I had just sent my boys to their room to play after they had finished a meal. I grabbed the handle to my vacuum. I started to kneel down to gather the cords when my vacuum turned on. It takes not one but two clicks of the button to turn it on. I was no where near the button. I have tried sitting on, sliding on, bumping, pushing it on and it's impossible to do so because there is a rise of a plastic ledge to prevent such a thing happening. I kinda shifted my eyes around thinking, "Oooo-kay, um thanks for the help?" and started vacuuming with a slightly creeped out feeling.

Experience #3.
It was craft time and we were making paper tombstones to add to our Halloween scene on our patio. The boys had just finished helping and had gone to their room with Chelsey (our worker for Daniel) to read their daily book out loud. I was happily listening to each of their voices while I stayed at the table chalking in the finishing details. As I sat there, I could have sworn that someone was right behind me watching. Knowing I was being silly, I ignored the feeling and kept on writing. The feeling however, grew stronger and there was an added feeling as if the person was discontent with my artwork. "Come on Catherine" I said in my head," you're just being silly cause you're making Halloween decorations". Then, as I moved my hand upwards to fill in a few cracks, I heard a voice, low , manlike mumble to me. I wasn't able to understand what it said but I did turn around. I had thought that maybe it was Chelsey trying to talk to me from my childrens room and because she wasn't close enough to me yet and because they were all reading out loud, her voice just happened to be distorted. However, after turning around, she wasn't anywhere insight. I stood up and went to the boys' room. There they all sat, on their beds, reading. Embarrassed but determined that it had to be her, I asked Chelsey if she had called to me or had tried to say something to me. She hadn't said a thing for a while because she had been listening to Daniel read to her. Well, dang it then...who was talking to me? Hmm...maybe I don't really want to know. Right?

Happy Halloween!

When I grow up

"When I grow up, I want to be a mother and raise a family. One little, two little, three little babies of my own. And I will love them ALLLL day long and give them candy and cookies and yellow balloons." My little sister sang this song when she was only 3. I can still hear her sweet little voice singing the words.

 I've always wanted to be a mother. As far back as I can remember, I've wanted nothing else. I have memories of when I could not have been more than 3 or 4 years of age,  I had gotten a doll for Christmas. She was a beautiful doll. Her head full of dark auburn hair that came to a perfect widows peak on her forehead, perfect blue eyes that would blink with long eyelashes and a perfect mauve pout.In my little girls head she could not have been prettier. I had a pink Strawberry Shortcake blanket I would carefully wrap her in, rocking her, singing to her. I remember even trying to nurse her as I had seen my mother do with my younger siblings. I didn't fully understand what it was I was doing of course, but the instinct of being a mommy was even still, very strong in my little girl heart.

As I grew and became a teenager, the instinct was still very strong, still there. Thoughts of boys, prom or college to pursue a career never lasted long or really crossed my mind. Some of those things were important yes, but nothing had as strong of a pull.It's something that was deep in me, my flesh and bone, something I can't describe.My calling was to become a mother and I knew it.

I thrived on playing with and caring for my many nieces and nephews. It was a fun way of practicing to be a mom. Parents in the neighborhood had to book me in advance if they wanted me to babysit. I LOVED that their kids would request me,beg for me to be the sitter. It was wonderful to know that they loved me as much as I loved them and that they were having as much fun as I was while I was there caring for them.

So being a mom? I had this one in the bag right? What fun I would have, telling or making up stories for my kids, reading to them, the trips we'd go on and places we'd visit, the things I would joke with and tease them about, the conversations we would have...

Well, the Lord would have different plans for me. I know it was God. Again, something that can't be described or that you can apply logic to. It's just something I know.He blessed me with 3 beautiful boys that would however, have physical and mental challenges. They wouldn't talk to me like they should or how they should at their age. They wouldn't understand Christmas or get excited over Disneyland. They would be too innocent to even understand mommy's teasing sarcasm. Learning how to communicate needs let alone thoughts would be a monumental challenge, making friends an almost impossible task, showing love or emotions to others were to never happen.
I like to joke that the Lord thought motherhood was going to be too easy for me so he thought he'd throw in an extra challenge or two to go with it. I actually wonder if he really did and when I die, I can't wait to have that conversation with him to see what he says and to share what I've learned with him. I'm pretty sure however, that I already know what He would say to me because He's already whispered it to me the second I held my first born. He echoed it to my mind and heart when I took my oldest to be tested for Autism and He reassured me as the diagnoses was announced. "I have entrusted these special, special spirits to you. You will be their voice, their keeper, their guardian. You will not be able to mother them they way you thought you would. It will by trying and yes, you at times will cry. Are you up for the challenge?"

My answer?...Yes, Lord.  I understand and know that they are mine to guard, to speak for, to guide and teach. I had felt their special presence even before I carried and birthed them. I know I will cry, for I have already shed many tears, but I understand that a lot of those tears will be tears of joy too. Thank you dear Father for sending me children with Autism. If I could have picked a special needs, that would have been it.

See father?! Look! See how they have blossomed! Look at how they have grown! They now talk to me, laugh with me. They're starting to understand social cues and make friends. They now understand the joy of holidays and we can now celebrate them together! I can't wait to show them this world that has been created by Thee! I can't wait to push and see how far they will come, how much more they will grow. It has been a lot of hard work already but worth every second...and Father?...I thank thee for thy warmth and guidance every step of the way.