laundry mat

i haven't written in so long. I think of writing every day. I lay in bed at night and write in my head, thinking how things would be phrased. i think about writing every morning-i think to myself, i should write today.  and then i think i shouldn't share, because everyone has something that they want to share with the world, but they don't, so i think i shouldn't.

today i want to write.

it's raining on this last day in april. i keep refraining the same words "april showers bring may flowers" to the kids. they always ask me to say it again; they think it's clever. and i tell them, it really is the truth. just another amazing thing about nature. it all works out so well.  outdoors isn't the only thing wet today.  my washer is leaking. and i keep using it and keep wiping up the mess. not only is that leaking, my dryer is out of commission.  isn't that terrible? so IF i do laundry in my leaky washer, then i hang each item on a drying rack and wait two days for it to be completely dry. there is only so much room on these drying racks and clothes lines (when it's not raining). you get my drift. yes, i am complaining.  the computer let's me whine and doesn't talk back. it just listens to me; no judgement.  i am weeks behind on my laundry and with our family of five, and the messy life we lead with spills, multiple outfit changes and sports, the kids are sometimes going through three outfits a day.  it is safe to say i am buried alive in laundry. every woman's problem.

something came over me today and i said i wasn't putting up with this crap anymore. i am going to fix this.  i sent a hasty text letting my husband know that this problem better get fixed or else. i don't do that often. i have learned that nagging is not the way to motivate a man. anyway, i am sure he was terribly threatened by my text. Hardly!  He did give me an "i love you" so that makes things all better, right?  anyway, i fill three hampers with socks, underwear, t-shirts and towels-the necessities.  and i loaded those up in the car, in the rain, along with my 3 kids.  a new adventure. today they learned about the laundry mat.

while they were there, they were exploring.  pushing buttons, locking and unlocking the front loaders, asking questions, pushing the carts around etc.  they helped me sort the laundry into three triple load washers. they loved it. they could see it spin and suds and spin and it just thrilled them.  while they were watching, i was listening.  we were there for about 2 1/2 hours, and you would not believe what i heard.

when i got there. there were 2 older men in there. it was fairly quiet but the one guy turned out to be a yacker. we'll call the yacker "Jack" in this story.  Jack the yacker.  The first thing I noticed about Jack was that his hat was embroidered with the words "veteran".  Jack noticed that the other gentleman (let's call him Phil, he looked like a Phil) Phil, had washed and hung a coat on a hanger with the words "Coast Guard" printed on the back. Jack asks with enthusiasm "Were you in the coast gaurd?"  Phil replies with a no and proceeds to tell Jack that his son was but he passed away 6 months ago, at 28 years old, in a motorcycle accident.  My heart sank.  They exchanged many more words about being in the army and what it can do for a family-the good and the bad.  Phil was finished with his laundry and told Jack as he left "God Bless".

Next person to enter is another male.  Jack immediately starts conversation. Asked this guy if he was in the army.  They talked about politics, what is wrong with society and how the bathroom doors remained locked at the laundry mat due to an issue with vandalism. At this point they are shaking their heads together and both agreed that they fear for their grandchildren's future because nobody cares anymore and nobody respects anything.

The next person to enter is an elderly woman who could barely walk and was assisted by an equally older male.  She asked me what was wrong with my son, and I told her he was born with spina bifida.  Her eyes welled up with tears and she said "Oh my goodness, honey, I am so sorry. I will pray for him. What is his first name?"  By this point, my energetic son comes whizzing up in his wheelchair to see just who I am talking to. I thanked the woman and assured her that he was a blessed little boy, and not to be saddened by his condition. I explained how mischievous he can be. My washers were done so we said good bye.

The last couple came in-a couple in their 50's or 60's. The man had a long white beard and a belly that shook when he laughed.  Low and behold I hear him telling this older couple that he dresses as Santa from November to December at local venues.  And the wife chimes in and boast that she plays the part of Ms. Claus.  And then, after some more small talk, "Santa" shares that he hasn't spoken to his son in 20 years because they had a falling out. They live in the same town.  And eventually the woman shares that she lost her hair during her battle with breast cancer.

Yes, all this was discussed at the laundry mat. I don't know if the environment makes people want to talk and share their stories or what, but while my kids were rolling around in the carts, and fiddling with all the buttons and hiding under tables like kids do, I just looked at them.  I thought about the man who said his son died in the motor cycle accident, just a week before he was going to visit him. And I thought about what the world was going to be like when my kids were 50. Am I giving them the tools they need to survive?  And I worried, and wondered if that father and son who don't speak ever got along, even when the son was a young man living with his parents. And how does that happen that you just don't speak to your children. Will that happen to me?  Is it possible to be so bitter that you can't speak to the very one you gave life to?

I think about our everyday life, living with someone who is handicap and how I forget all of Joshua's struggles and problems sometimes and how a woman can just as much as look at him and cry.  Am I numb?  I think about my health, and how important it is to eat right and take care of myself to keep cancer at bay if at all possible.

And then I realize what was going on.  I was supposed to be there today. Something greater than me was communicating to my heart today, letting me know that a broken washer and dryer are no big deal. And that the relationship I mold with my children now needs to be solid, so they don't move out and never come back.

"Laundry Mat Conversations".  I wonder if anyone has ever written a book on this.  If you need inspiration, take your laundry to the laundry mat and listen.

I am tired. It's still raining. But I am so thankful for this day.

Breastfeeding A Toddler

As some of you may know, my 3rd child I breastfed until he was 4. My milk dried up several months ago but he was still finding comfort in latching for a few minutes every couple of days even though he was getting no milk. I know about the benefits of just having child to breast so I was totally fine with it. Anyway, a couple of weeks ago my husband and I decided to talk to him and start telling him no when he went for the boob. Honestly, it made me want to cry, but my son reacted so calmly and really had no problem with it other than the first few times of me telling him gently "no" he would kind of pout and ask why. Though I wcould have allowed him to comfort nurse for years to come with no problem, I really felt he was ready and I had to encourage him and let him "spread his wings" if you will. SOmetimes, we need to let them grow up-and I knew it was time, despite what my heart felt. Well, it's been probably 3-4 weeks since no more latching and he is totally fine, well adjusted, we had no drama, no tantrums etc. etc. He has told me a couple of times that he really misses my "sweet yummy milk" but we are able to talk about his nursing in a mature, memorable way. With his 5th birthday just months away, I leave behind one of the sweetest parts of my motherhood thus far, nursing into toddler hood and bonding forever. I love that he is old enough to always remember nursing. I miss it every day and often times think about a 4th baby, but for now this is it. And for all the people that just don't understand "extended breastfeeding" ( i dislike the use of that term because it is not "extended" it is how it is supposed to be, it's just breastfeeding) and thinks it makes the kid have dependency issues and makes them shy or weird, lol, if you could meet my son, you would see just how independent and brave he is despite his disability and the fact that I nursed him for almost 5 years. Anyway, I could talk for hours about the benefits and sweetness of nursing a toddler, but I wanted to remind you that if you are nursing a boob obsessed 2 year old (trust me, we were there, he wanted to nurse every minute at age two and wanted both boobs and wanted to touch both boobs and play with boobs-gah!) and you have a lot of critics and think there will never be an end to your craziness of nursing a big kid, that it does end sweetly and softly when the child is ready. Lastly, I still co-sleep with him (for many reasons other than just to co-sleep-he has epilepsy and is paralyzed from the waist down) and any time he tosses and turns in his sleep naturally, his hand goes right for my breast and once he feels my skin, he is back to sleep. I guess it's like his "blankie". I love being his mommy. Sometimes, we have to follow our instincts and not the popular choice, and when we trust ourselves enough to do that, I truly think motherhood is a powerful, blissful thing.