Jsack's Mom's Blog

Welcome to my blog where I share my special needs parenting journey with my heart, truth, and love, one story at a time. ❤️

One Liner Wednesday

My son is four and very literal and impressionable. He had an outing with his Dad and after a tear fest insued. I went to see what was the matter and in his choked up sobs this is what he told me. 

Me-“what’s wrong love?”

Son-“I’m sad!

Me-“why?”

Son-“Daddy won’t take me to crazy town….,because we live there!”

*This is our response when asked where anyone is going in our house-to crazy town.* Oh my poor, misunderstood, literal, child it’s tough being four. ❤️

This has been my submission to http://lindaghill.com One liner Wednesday. Please check out her creativity and all the other talent who link up. Thank you. 💓

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These Eyes of Mine

I look at these eyes of mine ,bluer than blue staring back at me from the mirror. The crystal blueness takes me back as I see one tear slipping across my cheek. There’s a vast ocean of pain that these eyes of mine hide. I do my best to deal with it, hide it, and keep it all in until it’s pouring forth like a waterfall of emotion. I think to my past and wonder if I could’ve been better. A better daughter, sister, aunt, and friend. I think of all these roles I played from a young age. I became an aunt at the age of six, and I was quite used to being the youngest child in my family. 

I sat on my Dad’s lap and watched my big brother holding this tiny baby. I had a mixture of emotion as I looked at him. Curiosity, excitement, and yes even jealousy. My Dad had left when I was four I remember it all too well; the crying, shrieking, and red hot anger of my Mom as she chased him out of the house. He was running for his life as she brandished a knife, and I knew this was a women on the edge between sanity and survival. He had pushed her to a breaking point and she had pushed back. My Dad left, ran out of our house and didn’t look back. He took on a new family, responsibilities, and lived in their home. 

I visited every weekend and holidays and this never felt like my home.  I was a guest and nothing more, and I struggled to feel comfortable in my own skin. This wasn’t my Mom, bedroom, or backyard. This was too much newness for a little four year old girl to understand. I didn’t feel like I was special, wanted, or appreciated. I remember attending kindergarten in the fall. I was badly in need of a haircut and it was picture day on Monday. This would be my first and last haircut that my step Mom ever gave me. I couldn’t sit still the bowl on my head was heavy and cumbersome. The hairs tickled my nose and made me sneeze. It was an overstimulatmg sensory experience and everyone just thought I was misbehaving. I was called a brat and left on my own after that. 

I looked in the mirror and saw this ragamuffin hairdo and I cried bitterly the rest of the weekend. My first Kindergarten picture and I looked like I had cut my hair with a butterknife! My Mom was furious and tried to fix it but the damage was done. I couldn’t even smile for that Godforsaken picture. It tore me up inside to look so ridiculous. The taunts, jeers, and stares overwhelmed me. I spent more time hiding or throwing my fists around to avoid any confrontation. I was no stranger to it in fact I welcomed it, then someone knew I was there and mattered. After that hideous haircut I avoided going near a pair of scissors or that stool again. 

Then just like everything that floats around elementary schools and germ warfare I got lice at the age of six. I was horrified and scared about what was happening to me as I scratched my head until it bled. My Mom blamed my Dad, my Dad blamed my Mom and I was sent to stay with my Grandparents for a week. I remember sitting in the purple clawfoot tub as my Gram rubbed pink calamine lotion over my head, neck, and eyebrows. I felt that hot water pouring over me and watching those dead bugs lying in the tub. As they swirled down the drain my tears mixed with the pink liquid as it streamed down my face and into my eyes. It burned a lot, but not as much as my hot humiliation of having contracted the condition anyway. 

These eyes of mine have seen a lot of pain, hidden a lot of lies, and have yet continued to be my windows of truth. These are memories I’ve stored away in the tiny box that I’ve buried in my mind. Then something will trigger it and like Pandora’s ill fated box it will open up again. These emotional scars I wear on my heart threaten to overtake me at times. I watched something tonight about children and what their Father represented to them. Some said pride, confidence, anger, pain, love, and nothing but emptiness because he was gone. This struck a nerve with me. A jangling nerve trigger that was hanging in the balance. And my bluer than blue eyes welled up with tears while I struggled to gain my composure. My children will never know of my pain, they will never experience that uncertainty or need to doubt their existence. They will know only love, guidance, respect, and firmness when discipline is needed. They will know only of my joy and gratitude when they blessed me with their arrival.  They will know that they are and will always be, the key to my heart. ❤️

 

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Writer’s Quotes Wednesday

Inspiration from Starbucks 

  

My inspiration from Starbucks

 

This has been my submission to https://silverthreading.com. It’s amazing what some free time and a cup of chai will do! Please check out her wonderfulness and all the other talent who link up. Thank you.  💓

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One Liner Wednesday 

I’ve been enjoying some spring weather in my part of Canada and on Monday I went out geocaching with my husband and our youngest son. We had a set of stairs to climb and he eagerly conquered the challenge. His Dad and I were following closely behind when he reached the top stair. He turned around and yelled at the top of his lungs

“I’m king of the world !”
This has been my submission to https://Lindaghill.com One Liner Wednesday. Please check out her contribution, as well as all the other talent who link up. Thank you. 💓

  

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Safe

My favourite place at the end of my day is in my husband’s arms. He makes me feel safe, loved, and cherished. We’ve been together a long time it’s hard for me to imagine life before him. There was a time when I didn’t feel safe to give my heart to anyone. I had countless boyfriends cheat on me and still want a relationship with me. That’s not how I operate its loyalty, monogamy, or nothing. I had a very verbally abusive ex who I began to not feel safe with. At first when we were dating everything was great, than that nagging feeling in the back of my thoughts will plague me. As the relationship progressed I thought I could change things when I he became sullen and moody. I wouldn’t talk when he wanted quiet, I wouldn’t talk to anyone when he wanted me by his side. We had one class together in high school and I was intrigued by him. He was a two  years older than me and I wasn’t shy and made friends easily. He liked what he saw in me so we began dating. At first it was new, fun, and exciting then like everything in life the bloom was fading from the rose. He started to show his true colors through his jealousy. I thought that I could change him by changing myself. This became a pattern of my obsession to improve myself. Better hair, makeup, clothes, and becoming fitter. I began to not recognize that person in the mirror as I slept less, ate more, and worked out religiously. In his kind moments that were fleeting, he’d tell me I looked so good I was good enough to eat. I didn’t really know what to think of that, I was 16 years old and never thought of myself as I prey before… It was really bizarre I remember one time hanging out with him and we were in his car. He was kissing and cuddling and watching the luminescent moon over the water. It was beautiful and romantic but it escalated quickly to tugging, pulling, and pinning me down. He wanted much more than I was willing to give. I of course said no loud and clear and he continued to press me further. I felt cornered and I came out fighting and punched him in the face and got out of the car. I started to run but he had my leg and my shoe came off in his hand. It was dark, scary, rocky, and I felt very unsafe. I didn’t know where I was as this was the first time I had been to this area.  I managed to climb up on some rocks while he tried to talk me down. I could smell him and see his thick, shrouded, aura emanating from him as he walked away. He got in his car and he left, roared out of there while I was huddled up on a rock in a skirt and sandals. I stayed up there and prayed for some resolution. These were the days before everyone had cell phones to capture their every move. I knew I couldn’t spend the night there and I was going to be in a lot of trouble because it was way past my curfew. I started to climb down and make my way across the rocks to the road. My feet were so sore and I had developed a blister. I was so scared and longed for the safety of my home and my bed. I trudged on and tried to shield myself from the icy cold wind blowing off the water. All I had to cover myself was my jean jacket. I was dressed to attend a dance which I did that my boyfriend was working at. I continued walking along the road praying that someone safe would find me. Suddenly there was bright lights heading towards me and I continued walking, then the car drove past me and I could hear tires squealing as it headed towards me. I ran as fast as I could and I heard music blaring then dead silence. I wasn’t safe but I knew I needed help. Then I heard my name being called it was my boyfriends friend and he told me he was looking all over for me. He was told I had a bitch fit and ran away. He drove me back home and I talked less and listened more. I felt relieved to be able to escape that debacle. I knew my ex was moody, was used to getting his own way, and every intuitive thought screamed at me to run not walk, away from him. As soon as I arrived home and thanked my ride for rescuing me I sat down and took a hard look at my life. I wrote down five things that I wanted for myself. 

  • 1. I wanted to feel safe. 
  • 2. I wanted to be with someone who loved, respected, and cared about my well being. 
  • 3. I wanted to feel comfortable in my own skin. 
  • 4. I needed to take care of myself mentally, emotionally, and physically. 
  • 5. I would never try to change a person again, and pay more attention to my empathic feelings. 

I took this list and then wrote a letter goodbye. I read it to my ex and we parted ways. There was apologies and attempts to win me over with charm and gifts. I looked at the list I had made and stuck to my guns, and didn’t give in. Fast forward twenty-five years in time and I’ve met, fallen in love, and created a life with a wonderful man who is on my list. He’s my soft, safe, place to fall when my world is scary. He loves, respects, and cares about my well being as well as our children. My husband makes me feel comfortable in my skin by showing me he’s comfortable in his. He gives me outlets to take care of myself mentally, emotionally, and physically. And when I’m not he makes sure I get more sleep, flowers, chocolate, dessert, and movie nights for just the two of us. I never try to change him, I just love him for who he is. Sure there are times I wish he’d fold some laundry, but that’s  minor in the long term view of our relationship. He helps me be a better, woman, wife, Mom, and friend. And knowing that he loves all of me, even the scary parts of my personality is a gift. I feel safe in knowing I’m loved and safe with him. 💗

This has been my submission to http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com Sunday confessions. Which I know it’s Thursday now. I wrote and saved it but couldn’t find it till now. Please check out the anonymous confession on Ash’s Facebook page and all the other talent that link up. Thank you. 💕 


 

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I got my eye on you

I peek out from behind my pillow and I say I can see you peekaboo. And I’m met with the most beautiful smile and infectious laughter. We’ve been playing this game since my son was a baby. It never gets old as I add in puppets, different voices, and stuffed animals to join the party. His favourite thing to do now is put on a puppet show for our family. We sit down on the couch eagerly awaiting whatever joyful exuberance he has woven together. “Ladies and gentleman today we’re here for Mickey’s play house puppet show!” 

 
The happiness I see on his face as he jumps wildly in the air from his mini trampoline fill my heart to the brim. He uses different characters and voices to entertain. How he plays, acts, and draws you in with his cute little voice sounding like a soprano when female, and then low and guttural when he switches characters to masculine. He is living in themoment and you can’t help but get swept up in his love of drama and all things Disney. One moment he’s singing the Hot Dog, hot diggity dog song next he’s singing Let it go at the top of his lungs! My son’s joy is music he lets it fill him up with the tones, lyrics, and rhythm. 

  

   Having fun trying on Dad’s goalie helmet. 😃💛 

He picks out music patterns quicker than any other child his age. Something that his former music teacher was astounded by. It didn’t surprise me though music is a beautiful sensory experience. And one thing my son knows how to do is enjoy any positive sensory experience he can. So peekaboo never gets old as I pop around corners and say “I’ve got my eye on you, peekaboo.” He will pop out the pantry, underneath a blanket, or from behind a couch cushion. He lives for the surprise, joy, and play. He will curl up in my lap and will ask me to sing him a song. I’ll start the first few bars of Twinkle, twinkle and he’ll finish it. I love hearing his sweet gentle voice, that rises and falls, with the flow of the music. 
  

My son will ask me for his favourite tune which he calls the “Yes song.” Most of you know it by Meatloaf’s You took the words right out of my moth. He will sing right along with me, and answer affirmatively when I ask him if he he would offer his throat to the wolf with the red roses. He adores this song and when we go out to do errands he yell “yes song please Mommy!” My son’s love of life and keeping his eye on the wonderful things like puffy clouds that look like dinosaurs, sparkles that act like fairy dust, and whip cream that tickles his nose, when he drinks his hot chocolate. He makes me catch my breath with love and wonder when I see the magic of life through his eyes. 

  
  He constantly teaches me new things when we take a walk and play eye spy with my little eye. He see things that others don’t see eagles nests high up in the trees, and a fish flopping on the rocks trying to make it back into the water. How he can dance circles around the room when he hears a beat that just makes him move and groove fills my heart. He teaches me as much as I teach him at the tender age of almost four. I look into his eyes and see love there and it makes me want to be a better person than I was yesterday. I love him so, and if you’ll excuse me it’s time to play another rousing game of Peek-a-boo I see you.

   
This has been my submission for https://lindaghill.com SOCS please see what she wrote and all the other talent that link up. Thank you. 💕 
 

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Writer’s Quotes Wednesday 

  

This has been my submission to https://silverthreading.com Writer’s quotes Wednesday. Please check out her inspiration and all the other talent that link up. Thank you. 💌

 

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Writer’s Quote Wednesday’s 



Amazing Grace came into the world so precious and sweet. 

Loved already with great devotion and adoration. 

With these beautiful curls and teeny, tiny, little, feet. 

I witnessed a Mother’s love, a Father’s pride as they held her skin to skin. 

And family was to be wrapped up in joy with this little gift. 

Not knowing how long she’d be earth side, each day is a win. 

I look at these beautiful images, and they give my heart a lift.  

I play them over and over again feeling the tenderness in my heart and mind.

Amazing Grace you’re the greatest blessing the world could ever find. 💗

I wrote this for my beautiful cousin who gave birth to her amazing Grace just this week. She was born with a genetic condition called mosaic triploidy. It’s not certain how long this little blessing will have on the earth. One thing I know it will be filled with so much love, that her little heart can hold. This is my submission to http://silverthreading.com for Writer’s Quote Wednesday. Please check out all the talent who link up. Thank you. 💕

*Image used with permission from my cousin and Love By Krista Evans Photography. Special thanks to them both for allowing me to share this journey.*

You can check out her amazing body of work at https://www.facebook.com/lovebykristaevansphotography

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Dream

I had a dream that most people thought was fiction when I wrote about it. It really wasn’t it was an amazing event that I feel blessed enough to experience. I wrote about it, submitted it and it was published in an International magazine. I was so elated and pleased that I was chosen. And here I am two months later thinking about that dream I had. I’m even dreaming about it, and I let it take me away from my life which has been difficult to bear at times. I wonder where this little girl that I know so well from my childhood dreams will lead me. Will she take me to her favourite places tucked away in a country hillside? Will she lead me back to feelings I had when I heard stories of my Grandma’s Celtic ancestry? Will she talk to me and tell me of her joys of her childhood even though it was a short one? 

I dream of this sweet little girl with the strawberry curl and long to hear of her memories of a family that adored her, and mourned her greatly after her death. I wonder what she remembers about her life. What was her favourite toy, did her doll have a name, what was her special lullaby her Mom sang to her night? My dreams are full of her smiles, the lilt in her voice, and adorable laughter that echoes in my mind long after I wake up. I wonder what she dreams about her parents faces, her siblings smiles, or the beautiful life she’s living now. I wonder who she would’ve been if she was allowed to grow up. I wonder if she’d have children and who she would name them after. I know how much she was loved and adored as it was my Grandma’s baby sister in my dreams.

 She died so tragically and anytime my beloved Gram told the story I would wipe away her tears. I can only imagine the grief and shock the family would feel with her loss. I went searching for her in the death records I had access to through my work. I couldn’t find her and it was so distressing so I prayed to her,

and this is where I am today. She has been located, and due to her untimely death she didn’t have a grave marker. She will now though, I have a family member that will be making her one. After all these years I’m so happy that she will have this closure and honour. And when I go back to my hometown I plan on visiting her. I’ve never seen a picture of her but I always have the one from my dreams. Rest in peace sweet angel, you may be gone but you will never be forgotten. 

This has been my Sunday confession for http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com. Please check out her facebook page for anonymous confessions, her talent,  and all the other dreamers that link up. Thank you for being here. 💗

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