Cherish the moments

I can still feel the cloth cover of my first diary. The blue cloth was printed with teddy bears and hearts. I was so proud to have it for Christmas at the old age of 5 years. I wrote in my "dairy" religiously for a few days, then lost it for a little while. I continued to write in it, until at the age of 8, it was full and I was ready for a new one. I was sure that this pocket sized diary would be with me forever. I wanted to hand it down to my children to read. I wanted to give them the memories that I grew up with. Now as a mom, I am rethinking that one, especially the ones I wrote in as a teenager. Scary!
Today I thought of my little diary when my daughter at the age of 8 decided she needed a notebook to write her own story in. She had money burning a hole in her little pocket and wanted to spend it on something. What did she do? She picked up some chapstick and a notebook. On the way home she told me how to write a story. It has to start out happy, then drama, then sad, then happy again. All the stories have a happy ending. She has learned this from all the movies she has watched.
I can say that I am proud of my daughter. She is finding her place in life and doing what she loves. She is more of an artist than I am. She can draw and paint and create, more than I ever could. While she may not want to be a writer like her mom, she likes to write and draw.
It's moments like these that I think life is too short. The children grow up too fast. It wasn't long ago when she was singing like a rock star and not making any sense at all. It was no time at all ago that I was changing her diapers. Her brother is closer to college than he is to kindergarten. I have to remember to cherish these moments. To remember the times that will too quickly pass. Memories are all I have to hold onto.

I'm only human

It's been a hard couple of weeks, there are days when I realize why not just anybody can do my job. To hear what I hear on a daily basis is something that could take your breath away, and not in a good way. There are so many things that go on in the world that you don't hear about. When I started my job I believed the best in everyone, I still do. Why or how is that even possible? I can tell you that there are bad things that happen in this world, people make bad decisions every day, some worse than others. We have all made bad decisions, the moment of a rash decision that got away from you. Once you've made that decision you have another to continue on the same path or change.
There are some things that we do out of habit, out of just getting by. I found myself just trying to get by after an extremely difficult night. It wasn't something that I broke down and cried over, I tried. I just wanted to sit and cry but the tears wouldn't come. There is no quick fix for this, it's not something that will be all better the next day. It's part of the job, and it requires more than just a strong willed person. There are times that no matter how tough you are it will get to you. What does that say? It says that I'm still human. That the pain is real, I haven't lost all touch with reality and I care.
I wonder sometimes if my job doesn't make me too tough, take away my compassion. Then I look at all that I am grateful for because of my job, because of the things I hear. For one, I am here and I'm okay, my kids are wonderful and healthy, I have a family that loves me, and a roof over my head. Some may say, of course you are grateful for that, isn't everybody? Yes, but we often lose sight of how precious it really is, how quickly it can be gone.
I took my kids out to run errands, they behaved well enough for most of the day, except when we ran into people we knew. It not only happened once but three times, and as much as I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide, I am grateful to be seen as I am. I'm only human and my kids are not perfect, so a trip to the store is an ordeal. I can't leave them at home because there is no one to leave them with. I'm exhausted after fighting all morning for my son just to clean his room, and preventing my daughter from getting makeup, nail polish, or marker on something. Some days work seems like a welcome reprieve.
These are the days that keep me going, they remind me what life is really about. It's the sibling rivalry, the cries for a bandaid on a non-existent boo-boo, and tucking in at bed time that keeps me grounded. When I have a bad day at work the first thing I want to do is go home and hug my children. So when I'm embarrassed at the store, or when they are working my last nerve I remember, life is so much more than this.