I still believe in Santa Claus...

because she still believes in me.

I love you, Mommy.

Feeling the love & a very Merry Christmas!

Here we are in the season of giving. The season of sharing, of helping out your neighbors, of sending some love back to your family and into your community.

I’ve been feeling the love from my babies, who jump in my lap every time they catch me sitting down for more than just a second (even if I’m sitting on the toilet…LOL). They come over and give me hugs at completely random moments and they smile at me when I look at them. They run to me when I pick them up from day care every day and they are always so excited to see me that they can barely be understood from talking so fast. They tell me they love me and they demand more kisses before they will lay down and go to sleep at night. They hug my neck so tightly and tell me that I’m pretty and that they like my shirt or my shoes. They fill my heart so completely that I will never be left feeling empty.

I’ve been feeling the love from my Mom, who goes out of the way to make sure that I have the things I need to get by. She supports me in any way that she can and she’s my biggest cheerleader when it comes to needing that extra push to make me believe in myself. She points out on a daily basis all things that she’s so proud of me for doing or accomplishing. There’s nothing like having a parent in your life that brags about you (in front of you) to other people and makes you feel like you’re worth more than anything in the universe.

I’m feeling the love from my little brother, who normally doesn’t call much but who has been talking to me more lately and actually making sure that I’m being safe when I’m out on the roads and little stuff like that. He’s been taking a more active part in spending time with my kids when they’re around, too (he’s a little afraid of babies but now that my kids are bigger he’s deemed them safe to play with. LOL). He’s starting to grow up a little more and I’m proud of him for all that he’s done.

I’ve been feeling the love in the helping hands of my neighbors (also my landlords), who with the assistance of my lovely neighbors all around me, look out for me. They call and check on me when they notice my car home at any time out of the ordinary. They bring me food out of the blue that they’ve cooked. They bring gifts for my kids for no reason other than they saw the gift in the store and thought it would be perfect for my kids. They have been an absolute God-send and I am grateful every single day that I was chosen to meet these people at a time in my life when I would be needing a few extra caring people looking out for my well being.

I’m feeling the love in the stories of kindness I’ve been hearing on the radio on my way to work in the mornings. Strangers who band together to help others have a much better Christmas than the ones they would have been having otherwise. It warms my heart to hear of all the wonderful people out there that are helping others this time of year.

So to those that think the little things you do don’t really make a difference, there is someone out there that thinks the world of you for the kindness you’ve shown them. Don’t stop being kind to others just because you think it goes unnoticed because I promise you that there’s someone out there who has seen your small acts of kindness and is in return going to share it with someone else.Keep up the good work. It carries further than you think.

:)

Much love for the holidays,
Forgotten

Starting a new tradition...

I read a sad but beautiful post by The New Girl this morning that made me think about the traditions I am trying to foster for my children. It made me think about what pieces of myself that I would be leaving behind for them if I were to leave this earth today.

It made me realize that at this point in time, I have just been trying to survive. I haven't left a mark. I haven't created much that would give my children insight into the person that I am now. They wouldn't be able to look back at the minutiae that make up my life at this point and really know me if I left them this young.

It leaves me wondering what I should do to open myself up to them so that if they ever wondered what would Mom think if she was seeing this now or would Mom know what to do if she was faced with this problem, they would have my history to turn to as well as their own.

So here I am. I'm asking for suggestions. What would you do to immortalize yourself for your children? Would you start keeping a journal that is meant specifically for them to read? Would you write them letters on a day to day basis to tell them what you've seen them do and what you learned new that day? Would you take a million pictures and put them in dozens of albums knowing they will be seeing themselves through your eyes but not you yourself?

What would you do, my friends, to make sure your kids remember you when you're gone?

And the beat goes on...

I am a music lover.

Anything with a beat that makes me want to move. If it gives me the urge to shake what my mama gave me, I’m a new fan immediately. (Which is the reason why some of the music I love, my kids aren’t allowed to listen to; good beat, terrible lyrics.)

Anything with words that pull my heart straight out of my chest, put a smile on my face, or make me think hard are instant favorites.

Anything with instruments that I can practically feel in my hands. Piano keys cold and smooth beneath my fingers, violin strings that vibrate into the deepest parts of my soul, a bass drum that pounds out the beat of my heart, or a guitar that makes me want to thrash the hair I don’t have all around my head.

I never research an artist unless I want to know from the artist themselves what made them sing that particular song in that particular way (like Hate Me by Blue October, that song is so much more than what you hear). I don’t want to involve myself in the drama that is other’s personal lives, all I want is for their voice to wash over me and caress my body into places it’s never been. I want their instruments to crash into me and push me away from where I thought I was just a moment before.

The waver in their voices to pull a tear from my eye and the pain in their screams (oh, Chester from Linkin Park, how you can pull the pain from my soul with that scream of yours) to draw my hurt away like a star to a black hole.

I love the way they play with words and mould them into whatever they want them to mean at the moment (Eminem, you are so damn good at this it almost hurts!).

Music that makes me want to turn into an instrument just so someone would touch me with that much passion (Beethoven, the pain you must have felt at not being able to hear the beauty you brought to life must have been tremendous…).

Lyrics that put me there. Right there. Standing, laying, sitting, crying, smiling, laughing, soaring, exploding, hating, bursting, pulsing, moving…being.

Wrap me in a song, strum the strings of my heart, play me like a melody, fill me with sound, MOVE ME.

My First Night Alone

My baby girl is staying with her dad for the first time tonight.

I'm lost. I'm not handling it very well.

The main reason I'm not handling it very well is because my ex won't answer his phone. I told him I would be calling to see how she was doing. He turned his phone off.

He hasn't kept her for visitation in over 7 months. She has not spent a single night away from me since the day she was born (she'll be 2 years old in March). She's never been to the house he lives in now before.

And he won't answer his phone. I'm losing my mind. I'm worried.

I hate him so bad tonight. I don't hate anyone the way I hate him now.

Finding the words...

I write it all in my head. Beautiful lines of poetry about everything that touches my vision. The lines, the light, the love. I write it all but it all fails to manifest itself in my words.

Damn these cages.