Mrs. Mommy

My hubby Corey and I joke a lot - his sense of humor and mine just meld so we laugh and joke together a lot.  Well in one of our jokefests he started to call me Mrs. Mommy.  Which I giggled alongside him.  But the nickname has stuck in my head as quite a poignant remark.  Very rarely do I still feel Suzy for more than ten minutes at a time.  Most of the time I feel like a Mrs. or Mommy and very often a Mrs. Mommy.  As you read this it is important to know this - I count the reasons behind both of these titles my biggest blessings here on Earth.  BUT...if I am to be completely honest wasn't my dream titles (I am so proud to be both today just not what I envisions years ago).  Hear me out though. . .

Titles are funny things.  We crave them.  We work for them. We like to give them.  We as humans love labels.  They give us pecking orders. They give us futures to desire.  They give us people to dislike or at least labels to pin the blame so we don't have to face that emotion factor.  We tend to wear our titles for reasons of pride, classification, clarification, honor, and a million other reasons.  It wasn't that I didn't want to be a wife nor a mom.  I figured someday in my distant thirties I would most likely have a husband.  And perhaps a child.  But I really didn't "crave" either.  There were three titles I have shared my desire for since I was young (when thirty seemed a distant future and not a recent memory).  I wanted to Aunt Suzy (I have a theory that most people have an Uncle Bob or an Aunt Suzy - there was not extensive research and this was discovered from a small sample pool.  But most people I know have an Uncle Bob or an Aunt Suzy).  I enjoy kids.  I think they are funny, nothing makes me feel more loved than cuddling with a youngster especially singing songs together or reading and find it fascinating to join forces with their creative minds.  But I also enjoyed giving them back to their parents at the end of the day.  This sounded like a great start to following my call of being an Aunt.  (This dream did come true and I love my nieces and nephews - they are fabulous, precious, smart, creative, funny, sweet, kind, and beautiful.  I am so grateful God answered my prayers on that front!)  Another title I wanted to be was a Countess, an Italian Countess ( I <3 Italy!). I was serious about this career/lifestyle choice.  For years I hired my perfect entourage - I had court jesters, I had garbage collectors, ladies in waiting, chefs, event planner, preacher - pretty much everyone but the actual Italian Count. When I was in eighth grade we had to do research for our future career.  The guy who sat in front of me asked what I planned to be when I was a grown-up.  I said I already know but the research will be hard.  He asked me what I wanted to be.  Straight answer " A countess".  His reply "Is that like a female accountant?"  And I looked at him strangely (I now as adult realize that probably should play out the other way), but in the brief exchange I realized two things.  One) I simply had not shared my future intentions with enough people if this guy had no clue what I was talking about and Two) that not everyone saw this title as an average realistic option.   So I ended up researching my third dream title for this eighth grade research project - a Broadway stage actor.  I still haven't been to Italy (probably the best place to find an Italian Count - but I think my Louisiana Prince might get jealous :)  But I did go to school for Theatre as my major which became my minor the second time around.  I didn't make it to Broadway to perform but have performed (for money) in 5/50 states (MN, ND, MT, AK, and CA) and Canada.  So we'll call that a 1/2 title realized - 50%.  Not bad.

So you see I had what I thought were big dreams - big Suzy dreams.  But I fell in love at nineteen - not puppy love that starts off amazing and fizzles usually just as dramatic.  But to the core fell in head over heels full hearted completely committed true love.  I got married at twenty-two and became a Mrs. . .  in North Dakota.  I wouldn't change it for the world.  However, my thirteen year old version of myself saw a completely different picture - Italy was involved (which the full fantasy was to turn one of our Italian castles into an impressive internation theatre school), and my title wasn't Mrs. it would be Countess.  

And the mommy factor.  Whew!  Not that I was against having children.  It was always a future dream.  We even dreamt in our early thirties we would like to have kids.  Thats a great talk when you are twenty-four and married to a great partner.  When you're thirty and pregnant, that dream talk a little too real.  Which sounds after writing that line like we completely planned when we were having children - completely a God thing that shocked us out of the blue.  I have had a lot of friends who have had a variety of female issues and conception is difficult if not impossible (but a few of those impossibles have been PLEASANTLY BLESSED! Praise God!)  So, knowing this I figured God didn't burden my heart with desire because I honestly thought between my weight and other factors that I probably couldn't conceive at least without medical assistance.  I was terrified of the responsibility of being a mom.  As an aunt I figured I could only do minimal damage of anyone's psyche that could be repaired by their parents, selves, and God.  But complete responsibility for another human being I found that frightening to a degree I can' even verbalize.  My esteem like most areas of my life go extreme - I can do anything (like be an Italian Countess) or nothing right (which I kind of placed Mommyhood in that category for me). 

I love my son.  God granted (and my hubby helped) answer the deepest desire of my heart that I couldn't even vocalize.  I wept for days when I took my first pregnancy test (while pregnant) and it showed a negative.  I then hyperventilated when I took one three weeks later and there was a plus sign where I tried to tell my husband between hysterical tears that turned into hysterical laughter the news. In my defense, I had taken at least forty pregnancy tests in my lifetime and not once had there been a plus. Its a little surreal.  Then to really throw me off my A-game, my son was eleven weeks early.  If you know me I tend to run ten minutes late to everything and am a procrastinator to the hilt.  And my son arrives not just early - but super early!!! 

If I was to describe Suzy.  I would say she's funny, fun, playful, creative, and a bit loud.  But those words for Mrs. Mommy seem to be inappropriate.  So sometimes, I feel lost; because of this ideal image I have for Mrs. Mommy.  A woman who cares for her guys and takes care of them - perfectly.  I forget the title may change what some people call me, but not who I am.  I still am Suzy who just happens to be married to a great guy and the happiest little boy (seriously this kid giggles and smiles - ALL the time).  I try to be organized and early as Mrs. Mommy.  I try to cook, clean, and still look "relaxed".  But as I try to be Mrs. Mommy I lose a little bit of Suzy who is the one who received those titles. 

So what's in a name?  Appearance, effort, but it doesn't change the person - at least its not supposed to. So here I write as Suzy who also happens to be Mrs. Mommy.

May you earn the titles life bestows you, but never forget the person you were when you received them. 'Til we meet again. . .              

Buried Alive

I have admitted my heartfelt devotion to the series "Friends" and remember an episode where Phoebe says this is what she wanted her tombstone to read "Buried Alive".  Made me laugh and now it makes me think twice. 


I've let myself become buried alive.  It starts slow but quickly gathers until you don't even realize you aren't really living because you've been buried alive.  I have buried myself under my excessive weight, my obsessive worrying, my demanding task lists, my unrealistic expectations, and my clutter (emotional and material nonsense).  I've lost some amazing qualities because of all the junk.  I haven't posted because I am allowing the garbage to once again wash in like the tides and break down all my hard work.  I am desperately looking for a guide, a sign, a map, a path, something, anything to move me away from this quicksand burial.  At least I say this, kind of believe it, and so desperately want to believe this.  But I think in a subconscious way I like the clutter.  I can't find you, you can't find me.  I have a million excuses at my disposal (a lot has happened in the last three weeks, for instance a leaky roof).  I bought myself a little present a couple of weeks ago, a bracelet with a reminder of the scripture Jeremiah 29:11 which reads "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

In all my clutter I lost a lot of things and perhaps the worst is I have lost my hope.  And it appears my replacements have been despair, fear, and anger.  What horrible things to grab from the top of my piles and what is even more upsetting is that those replacements are covering, hope and joy and patience and so many other beautiful treasures.  I'm hurting but am having trouble getting my ducks all in a row.  I truly believe if I could focus just a little bit to clear out some of this clutter I can find a good path.  And I need to stop obsessing about the perfect path to enjoy my perfect moments.  I have too many blessings to allow any more burials.  So I need to begin to dig through the clutter.  If you have a moment I wouldn't mind an extra hand, (a prayer, a helping hand, a pat on the back) and together maybe we kind find some hope.

May your HealthFULL Journey help you to Fully Understand Life by Living and that you aren't suffocated by clutter but surrounded by Blessings and Hope.  -Jeremiah 29:11- 'Til we meet again. . .