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. ❤️

Ten Things of Thankful-Feeling prayful

There are times in life when some things just don’t make any sense. Death for one isn’t something I can fathom. Whether a loved one is young or old, natural causes or sudden tragedies it tears at my empathic heart. My husband and I recently lost a friend this week. The sadness overtakes me as this special soul leaves behind a beautiful, caring wife and three amazing kids. I think about the last conversation we had, the laughter, the reminiscing, the hugs of let’s keep in touch. Just when I start to ride a grief wave another loss happens, and I’m threatened to be pulled under by the melancholy cloud of darkness. I don’t think I’m supposed to understand death I’ve lost too many people to count in the last ten years. I’m beginning to believe that I’m just supposed to survive the affects of death and keep learning and appreciating the life lessons I’m taught. I will now begin to attempt to find some thankfuls as part of Lizzi’s TTOT linkup and glean a silver lining in a dark cloud. 

I’m thankful that even though it’s been a difficult week my husband has been able to talk about his feelings. He attended his childhood friends funeral while I attended an appointment. He told me it was good to see old friends and there’s comfort in knowing how many turned out for the sad day and how loved our friend was. 

I’m thankful that I kept my head and my heart busy with baking, walks in the sunshine, and movie time cuddles. My oldest (Captain) went with his Dad and spent time with family. The youngest (Mad dog) stayed home with me and enjoyed having me all to himself. 

I’m thankful that my Mad dog is making great progress with his behavioural aid sessions. His fine motor skills are improving so next we will continue working on having him sit for longer periods at circle time. It’s a large part of preschool and kindergarten and I want to prepare him for when he attends his new school. I’m so proud of his accomplishments in the last six months. ❤️

I’m thankful that I had silly, sweet, text conversations with my Captain while he was traveling with his Dad. We chatted from everything about wrestling (he’s a John Cena and Shane McMahon fan), Donald Trump versus the world, and how he wants to surprise his brother with the best beef jerky on the planet. I sure love my son and his creative mind! ❤️

I’m thankful for healthy meals, daily exercise, and relaxing in my hot tub with my family. When I have these things in my life everything just flows better and I feel so happy and loved. My fitness journey is ongoing and I strive to grow stronger in mind and body everyday. 

I’m thankful for catching up on housework, the dreaded laundry monster, and enjoying some beautiful summer weather. My moods are really tied to how much vitamin D I’m getting so the sunshine’s my elixir in life. 

I’m thankful for earth day this week. My Mad dog and I went for a walk by the river with his behavioural aid. We skipped stones jumped from rock to rock and took in the beauty and appreciation of our home. I’m grateful for the fresh clean water, the plants and trees providing me with oxygen and the flowers blooming and letting me enjoy their fragrance and aromatherapy. 

I’m thankful for reading, writing, and accomplishing my work tasks. I still have a few things to catch up on but I’m crossing things off my list and that’s a win/win in my world. Organization has never been my strong suit but as I see my piles of clutter becoming less I feel more in control of the direction I’m taking. It’s the old adage “cluttered space equals a cluttered mind.”

I’m thankful that I was able to apply that mindfulness to eliminating my digital and online clutter as well. Now that I’ve deleted data, cleaned up email accounts, and uploaded pictures onto my computer my phone/office is running at the speed of light! It’s amazing what a good feeling of satisfaction that can generate. 

I’m thankful for late night cuddles when my son can’t sleep. Late night talks and tuck ins when they miss me when it’s time to go to sleep. I’m getting to a point now where they don’t need me as much, especially my Captain. It’s so rewarding to see them growing and discovering the world and still wanting me by their side to chat about life and it’s mysteries. 

I’m thankful we had a successful follow up appointment with my youngest son’s sleep specialist. Since his diagnosis of autism in February and asthma in March we’re solving more health mysteries. The asthma medication has improved his breathing and shrunk his tonsils so much she doesn’t think he needs surgery! Now I will push for the MRI and see what’s going on inside his brain in regards to where the sleep apnea is originating from. Central sleep apnea is a a very serious condition-whereas the brain isn’t communicating with the heart and lungs about getting sufficient oxygen intake. Knowing my son is safe, breathing and sleeping properly is an answer to my prayers. Thank you to all you sweet souls who have expressed concern, said prayers, and empathized with us on this long, sleep deprived journey. This is the best outcome and update I could ever hope and pray for! I’m so thankful to God for these blessings. 💖

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Monday Musings-Triggers of the Past

What is it about the past that activate the triggers in your mind from childhood? It’s like those thoughts lay in a locked  box deep inside my brain then something happens and then they’re triggered, and opened up to sift through like a filing cabinet of memories. I recently woke up with a stiff neck and had to spend most of my day resting and stretching my overworked muscles. 

I started a new fitness program and I was overzealous about it and this is the result. I have to remember I’m not twenty anymore and take it at a less than frantic pace. All I could think about as I lay there feeling sorry for myself was how much I loved to climb as a child. You could find me in trees, on top of the roof of my house, and sitting on my Mom’s upright piano. 

There was one time I was climbing like usual after I bounded out of the house after breakfast. I reached out to grab a branch and instead I grabbed a snake! You can imagine my fright as I felt helpless and plummeted to the earth below. I lay there listening to my bones crack I wondered if I could walk and if that snake was going to land on my head. I could see it still in the tree hissing at me like something out of Disney’s Robin Hood. 

I never did like that character Sir Hiss as my Mom and Gram had a fear of snakes and all I knew was to fear them as well. My Mom came outside to check on me and saw me lying on the ground. She started screaming, crying, and praying as she tried to find help. All my siblings had left for school and my Dad for work. So she picked me up and brought me into the house. 

She laid me softly down on the couch and covered me with my favourite blanket. She put a cool washcloth on my forehead and began to check my head and neck for damage. I was so sore and had a big goose egg on the back of my skull. It hurt to move my neck so I just laid there while my sweet Mama cried and prayed over me. 

We lived in a rural community so to find anyone home to take me to the Dr was a slim and none chance. My Mom gave me something for the pain and turned on the tv. She had put my favourite show Sesame Street on and I listened and drifted off to sleep. I survived that fall and many others because I was a climber. Now I have my own child that loves to climb bookshelves, the back of the couch, on top of his bike, and has yet to climb a tree. 

This is what I thought about as I lied there in my bed having my pity party unable to turn my head while my sweet little boy looked after me. I don’t do helpless and sick very well, I don’t suppose any of us does. I just wish for my Mom to look after me like she did so long ago. But time has passed on and with it her life has too so I end up wistfully missing her and her tender loving care. 

Childhood triggers fill my mind with memories of good days and bad. Songs, games, and old friendships that were so important to me. I think of that old red house that reminded me of a barn on a farm. With the big heater with the stove pipe in the middle of the room. I think of the many hours spent there on my beloved Mama’s lap as she rocked me holding me tightly in her arms. I wish I could go back there for another day feeling that loves and cherished. Instead I lie here in my bed stiff and sore cuddling my child. Who will grow up and have these memories of special times with his Mom. 

This brings to mind a poem to fill my wistful grieving heart. 

Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

-Rumi

This has been my late edition of #Mondaymusings as I was searching for the linkup that is now being hosted at Everyday Gyann if you’d like to join in here are some tips to take part in #MondayMusings? Here’s how it works:

Write a post sharing your thoughts with us – happy, sad, philosophical, ‘silly’ even. Make it as personal as possible.
Use the hashtag #MondayMusings.

Add your link to the linky which you will find here and on the post of a co-host.

Use our #MondayMusings badge to encourage other bloggers join in too.

Visit and comment on the posts of other bloggers linked here.

Share the love.

  



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Childhood revisited 

I look up at the tree to see how far I have to climb till I can’t see the ground or feel the emotions I want to get away from. Why a tree you may ask well it could be anything as long as I could be up high. I climbed trees, fence posts, and the  horse stock corral in our backyard. 

When I was inside I would climb on top of my Mom’s black upright piano. I’d sit up there to eat my lunch and watch my favourite tv show Sesame Street. I wanted to live there and go on a picnic with Big Bird and Snufflelufugus. I found Ernie to loud and Bert to anxious, Oscar was too grouchy and the Count slept most of the time. Cookie Monster and Grover were my best friends we could sit around eating cookies all day and sing songs about it. 

I had this stuffed animal of Grover he was blue, soft, and fuzzy. He had long arms and legs I would wrap around my neck and waist and he would go everywhere with me. I adored that pal of mine and everyone would see us together and smile. I wasn’t allowed to take him to school though because my Mom said there was only one Grover and everyone would want one. 

I don’t remember if he was a birthday gift or for Christmas all I remember was he appeared in my life one day and made it all the better. I could talk to Grover about anything fights I had with my siblings, mud pie recipes, and how I could see things that other people couldn’t see. He never judged me and always kept my secrets just like my dog Bo. He was a special dog a gift from my Dad when I was brought home from the hospital. 

He became another member of our family even after my parents separated Bo came to live with us. We lived a simple life in the village with our Mom and my sister. He would walk us to and from school everyday. I would race home with my backpack hanging off my shoulder with the weight of my library books. I would run in the house kiss my Mom, tell her quickly about my day, grab my snack and Grover and disappear into the woods behind our house. 

I would find my special place and sit down and read to my friends. I loved to use different characters voices and inflection in my tone to make the story exciting. This was the way my Mom taught me the magic of story telling and it helped my comprehension and confidence. It helped me escape into a world of adventure in my books when the world was too loud, bright, and confusing. I loved sailing the seven seas with Sinbad, sitting down for tea with Charles Dickens in a Tale of Two Cities and living in the beautiful fantasy world of a Midnight Summer’s Dream from Shakespeare. 

My childhood was a happy place when I was able to climb trees, drink tea with my Mom and her friends, and use my imagination. I would dream about living on Sesame Street reading to everyone on the block and visiting Bob and Maria at Mr.Hooper’s store. There’s still times when I like to take a detour from my stress and go back to my childhood where life was simpler, carefree, and fun. 

🎶 Can you tell me how to get 

How to get to Sesame Street? 🎶

This has been my take on the Daily Prompt Childhood Revisited. 

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The Christmas magic is real 

The magic of Christmas has enveloped me. Last night we went driving around town looking at the Christmas lights. I was taken back to my days as a child as my eyes danced in the twinkling of each bulb. We saw really cute penguins, elves, reindeer, and moose. We also saw some very unique decor with Santa as a hockey player complete with a Maple Leaf jersey, Santa on a  camouflage motor bike, and the one that made me tear up a beautiful white lighted Eiffel Tower. Then the chorus of questions poured in like a hot cup of insatiable curiosity. I then remembered all my inquisitive questions that I bombarded my Mom with every year. From my precious preschooler:

“Will Santa bring me my Bat Cave?”

“Does Santa like cookies or muffins?”

“Will he wake me up when he gets here so we can play with his reindeer?”

From my wise but vulnerable to the truth, elementary school student:

“How will Santa come to our house if we don’t have a chimney?”

“How will he walk through the front door and not set off the alarm?”

And the last one I’m hearing more and more this year…

“Is Santa really real-or is just you and Dad?”

I think back to what my Mom said all those years ago and it’s the same thing that I’ve told my oldest son.


Merry Christmas blessings to you from our house to yours. 🌟

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Before

I’m sitting here trying to think about how my life was before mental health disorders became an issue. I remember being very young and watching scary episodes in my family play out before my eyes. I was scared and sensed there was danger so I just stayed clear and pretended I was sleeping while chaos ensued around me.

I had an interesting childhood, a very loving and devoted Mom and five siblings. Four of them were a lot older than me, and graduated or were in high school when I was born. My parents had a loving marriage before reality crashed in and my Dad found someone else. That time in my life was heart breaking and unpredictable, as I was sent to stay with my Dad and his new family that belonged to his girlfriend. I seen and heard things I didn’t want to know about.

Alcoholism was predominant in my family tree at that time. So I saw adults behaving badly fighting, cursing, and other drunken behavior. I never saw that with my Mom. She was very religious, honored God, and we went to church every Sunday with her. Every second weekend I would be in the middle of these drunken debauchery nights and feel so confused. I would wake up on the Sunday and there would be no church.

At first the thought of sleeping in was exciting to me but there was always work, and plenty of it. My Dad was raised to believe that idle hands were the Devils workshop. So if he had to work then so did his kids. We had chores to help out with the household and other outside ones. My favorite thing to do was help my Dad in the garage working on his logging truck.

I would spend hours with him cleaning the cab, greasing the axles, and operating the tire gun. I loved those times because we would talk and the stereo would be blasting Charlie Pride, Conway Twitty, and George Jones. He loved the old classic country and I would entertain him with my singing and dancing to Glen Campbell’s Rhinestone Cowboy.

I was only four when my parents separated and I was your proverbial people pleaser, trying to make them both happy. My Mom’s heart was broken as she tried to pick up the pieces of her failed marriage and move on and raise my sister and I. I was her friend and confidant helping her through and remaining loyal and steadfast. She suffered from anxiety and depression throughout my whole life.

I always prayed to God to give me a magic wand like the a fairy Godmother in Cinderella, and make her fears disappear. My Dad had told me he just wanted to be happy so he chose a different life with a different family. This was something that was very difficult for me to except, but I really tried for my Dad’s sake. I think this is where these adult situations gave birth to my anxiety. A monkey on my back today that I still have to control.

I never planned on having to make everyone happy, but somehow I felt like it was my job. What was life like before my parents separated? I have no clue, I was too young to remember. I have a few memories and some involved traveling , visit my Grandparents, and meeting lots of different people. My Dad and his girlfriend were in the process of building a house so there was always people coming and going. My brothers helped with the construction, my brother in-law with the electrical wiring, concrete mixers and painters.

I still remember placing my hands and carving my initials in the cement. Before I knew what divorce meant at five, I was a product of it. My parents never officially did that paperwork, it just felt the same as if they did. My Dad never did remarry as my Mom wouldn’t grant him a divorce. Yet they both moved on, my Mom found solace with raising us and being devoted to her church.

My Dad worked a lot and took us traveling to the United States. I’ve seen the open skies of Montana, driven Route 66, had my hands, feet, and legs in all four corners, and spent time wishing upon a star in Disneyland. I look back fondly on those family vacations with a smile. My Mom never got amazing trips like this so I always made it a big deal to find her a souvenir. I remember when we would make phone calls home to her, how lonely and sad she sounded. My Mom’s children were her life.

My oldest siblings were old enough to have their own lives and two were living on their own, and two still in high school. So having my middle sister and I filled up that void she felt with the empty nest syndrome. There was happiness coupled up with the confusion, and I spent a lot of time with both sets of Grandparents.

Before I was even six years old I knew what the classic black and white movies were, how to plant and maintain a garden, and every tune of an Irish song lovingly sung by my Mom and Gram. I still remember hearing stories of the old country(Ireland and Scotland) and how my Great Grandparents came over to start a new life after surviving hardships in their countries.

What was their life like before they ventured to take a boat to the new world of New York and later Western Canada? I often pondered this in my head as I read stories of Charles Dickens. I’m grateful for the lessons I learned from my parents discussions of my ancestors. Knowing I come from people that are so resilient, has had me rely a lot more on my intuition then people’s versions of the truth.

This has served me well from the past to my present. Today I work through my own mental health issues and my children’s, keeping mindful of who I was before, and who I am today. That scared little girl who loved to sing and dance grew up to love to write, and express herself authentically. And if there’s anything I learned in my childhood was be true to myself before trying to please others.

This is my Sunday confession to Ash’s http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com. Today’s prompt was the word before and I chose to write about my childhood. Please check out her Sunday confessions on her Facebook page, and all the other talent that link up. Thank you. 😊

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Admit

I must admit I should be sleeping as I’ve been up since the ass crack of dawn. I got up and got my kids ready for hockey, so their Dad could take them to the game. I should be sleeping but my time alone is so precious and I have so many things I want to do. Yet here I sit writing to you, and admitting my faults one by one. I stay up late continuously watching and waiting for someone who needs me. I start my days with little sleep and end them with even less. Even if I’m not needed, I admit I love the feeling of that quiet time when everyone’s sleeping.

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‘s my precious sliver of the late night where I do things just for me. I drink wine, I sip tea, I read, write, entertain myself with Facebook. I seek out inspiration, quotes, funny memes, I write about whatever pops into my head or discover a new word prompt. I know I have no right to complain about being tired, yet I do. Is it because I like sabotaging myself or is it that me tone is just too valuable to give up? I don’t really know it could be a combination of things, I like the sound of my own voice, as I sing, and I putter around in my kitchen. I grew up with my Mom doing exactly this midnight was her golden time. I would wake up and hear her sweet voice singing and she’d be making tea. I would feel like I was missing out on something magical, so I’d stay up and watch old black and white classic movies till 4 am. Only to have to 4 hours of sleep and have to rush out the door to catch my bus for school. I may have grown up tired but I look back on those time as beautiful moments in my childhood. Magical moments that only my beloved Mama and I would share. She called me her little night owl and now I have one of my own. When he wakes up and sees me on the couch we snuggle together until he falls back to sleep. I carry him to bed and eventually crawl into my own. I know I should’ve gone to bed earlier and I’ll regret skipping sleep on purpose. I have no one to blame but my own self for my sleep deprivation. Would medication help me sleep? Perhaps but I like feeling like me, even if I’m a groggy, sleepy eyed Mombie in the morning. I know I can always catch up on sleep and I must admit that feels like a blessing. This world that I’ve carved out for myself is a secure one. I know with my youngest son’s sleep apnea, and my oldest son’s reoccurring nightmares I will always be needed at the wee hours of the morning. This is part of being a Mom, living with anxiety, and being that proverbial apple not falling from my Mom’s tree. She grew up with a very military style where she went to bed early, kept her room tidy. Her home was as neat as a pin as that’s how my Grandparents liked it. I think when my Mom grew up she began to rebel. Our home wasn’t always neat and tidy.
We had clean clothes, dishes, and food in the cupboards. We may have had to do a mad dash to clean up quickly when company was expected. But we were always happy. My Mom would help my sister and I make our lunches at night. And get us off to school in the morning and she’d be there at the end of the day to ask how was your school day. This is how I grew up and this is the Mom I am today. And I have to admit that feels pretty wonderful to be here raising and watching my boys grow into men. So if I lose sleep well it’s not the end of the world, I’ll catch up and I’ve adapted. I wasn’t much of a sleeper as a child, and now I live that daily. I will take whatever hours I can get always yearning for more, but for now this isn’t broken. My life works, I fix what’s broken, I repair what’s cracked. Whether that’s my heart or my psyche, I know each day I’m trying and I’m not perfect I’m just real and genuine. So if you’ll excuse me I admit I’m a little tired now since seeing the sunrise. I will enjoy a couple hours of slumber and wake up refreshed and ready to take on the world. 😃

This has been my Sunday confession for the lovely Ash of http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com. Please check out her confession and all the other amazing bloggers that link up. 😘

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