A letter to our children.

The house is getting bigger. There’s less noise, less groceries, less laundry, less plates set for dinner, less footsteps, less tv’s being watched. The house is getting bigger….

In my journey of self-discovery, I’ve learned many things. I know why nice smells are so important to me. I know why second-hand stores and cigarette smoke are triggers for bad memories. I know why a full pantry and a stocked fridge makes me happy. I know why when we get a big paycheck and catch up on the not very often bills why I want to spend even more money. I know why my first ever new car is something I take good care of. I know why I don’t drink very often. I know why I’ve raised my children the way I have. I know why family is my top priority. I know why love and forgiveness within our family is something we must always do. I know why routine gives me peace of mind and how uncomfortable I am when I’m not in it.

Speaking of routine, your father and I have really fallen into a set one. Mondays are first days back to the grind and Monday nights are all about relaxing. We don’t plan dinner, don’t do laundry and oftentimes don’t clean up after ourselves. Monday evenings are for quiet chats catching up on our day and unwinding.Then Tuesday’s arrive with more work and the evening filled separately. Dad goes to Beekeeping class for a couple hours, I make cookie dough and eat dinner with Emily and sometimes Jack. For Wednesday, hump day, it’s work some more and a night to myself with laundry to do, a book or a tv show. If I’m feeling inspired I write and sometimes just research. For Dad he gets out of the store earlier than normal and puts on his “construction hat” then goes to work at the Lofts. Thursdays, or Friday Eve as I like to call them, are busy for me with grocery shopping and baking cookies for the bank. Dad usually works until six and fills me in on his day sitting at the breakfast bar while I busy myself putting away groceries and cleaning up the kitchen, with a fresh batch of cookies cooling on the rack. Our dinner is usually left overs or a lunch meat sandwich. Then Friday arrives. Friday’s start with the stripping of the bed and putting the sheets in the washer for “Fresh Sheet Friday.” Friday is a final day of work for me and a night I relish. I don’t ever want Friday after five to end. It’s the best evening of the week with the promise of a couple days to do just what I want to do. Usually we start this night off with beverages in the living room. We talk about our plans for the weekend but eventually the evening ends and it’s time to start Saturday. Saturdays are work days for Dad and cleaning days for me. Only now it takes less time. A general pick up is required first, from all the mail brought in and stacked on the desk, to picking up reading glasses and combining all the trash. Then the job of scrubbing, dusting, vacuuming and steaming floors. I’ve figured out that when this task is done I feel good. I feel like I’ve accomplished something and am proud that I take good care of something we work daily for. Saturday evenings are “date nights.” Out or in, dinner is always good because of the company. Then Sunday is upon us. They have always been a favorite of mine. Bet you can’t guess why? Of course, it’s because Dad is off work. He still goes in and does payroll, preps for Monday and cleans up any loose ends but he does all of this before I even wake up, he knows me well and although sleeping in for him is six o’clock, I like a little more rest. I usually find him sitting in the great room deep in his phone. His greetings make me smile and by this time he’s ready for coffee. If there is one thing to look forward to, it is this, Sunday morning coffee. I even drink two cups. You have no idea how this time flies. It is a time of no phones or other distractions, a time of just him and I and everything we want to share and I’m pretty sure we share everything. We sit cozy in the two chairs in the prettiest room the house. In these cold months, we have the fire blazing and I tuck a blanket around my legs and Callie curls up beside Dad’s chair. We talk about the week and work, we talk about the house and what’s next to do. We talk about Dad’s projects and other ways we can think of to pay off the house sooner so we can enjoy a less work filled life. But mostly we talk about our family. Then we follow this up with breakfast. Afterwards we each have tasks to complete separately and plans for dinner that fill our day. Sometimes we watch a movie in the afternoon, sometimes I read while he watches wrestling. But our day ends in perfect contentment with a little bit of sadness that the weekend is ending and a brand-new week is about to start.

I would guess at this point you are wondering where I am going with all this.

I wanted to illustrate this picture of our lives, your fathers and mine. I want you to see the balance we have that makes it work. Whether it’s his tolerance for me wanting to always stay home or mine for all his wrestling shenanigans. We make time for each other, are understanding about time spent separately and know that our friendship has always been our foundation. We seek one another’s advice in most every aspect and when we disagree we find a way to work through it. Life is shorter than you think and time has been going by faster and faster.

Every one of you are in relationships, varied stages of relationships from married, to living together, to just getting to know each other. Have you thought about how you’re making it work? Sometimes it’s the little things, like Dad driving the Nissan Sunday mornings and pulling it through the car wash for me, sending me texts during the week that say “good morning beautiful” or just randomly bringing me home breakfast on a weekday. I like making him happy too by heading off to bed early so he can sleep, I try to anticipate his needs and be thoughtful with what he might like for dinner or offer suggestions to help him relax. That’s usually just a crown and coke 😉

Self-discovery has been freeing in many ways, frightening in more and helpful to those who know me. I’m not a fan of the statement, post-traumatic stress, it feels like an “out” or makes me feel weak. I have, however, come to realize it’s not just for soldiers recovering from unimaginable horrors, I have some pretty unimaginable horrors of my own.  

Figuring out why I am the way I am is allowing me to accept myself for who I am.

For years I ignored all the pain and buried myself in the life I lived. Your dad and I with our love and commitment, supported each other and surrounded ourselves with the life we wanted. I knew the bad side of life and he knew enough of what I’d been through to allow me space until I was ready to share.

In the beginning I just wanted to forget and move forward and he just wanted my happiness. Happiness for me is him, his understanding and patience have been just what I need.

The first three years of marriage we focused on just us, his career and how we were going to make it from one week of bills to another. We celebrated our first year of marriage where we started our life together and our second in the town we would start our family. By the time we had baby number four, we were married for nine years, had transferred three more times and lived in six different homes. We were busy, money was always tight and with love and creativity we poured everything into our family. There was no room for anything else. No time for bad memories, no sleepless nights or nightmares that trigger seizures, no time to question the wrongs or to find forgiveness. For me, the pain of my past had remained dormant for years, buried under busy schedules, daily life and more important things to do.

Then last year I dealt with the death of my grandmother. With the passing of an elder, who I felt at the time deserved the respect of my silence, all the memories have resurfaced and it’s been like a pot of boiling water, overflowing. Now, there is no reason to keep it inside and spare the feelings of someone who didn’t want to hear of it and who chose not to help. It was no wonder I kept my silence as long as I did.

I had attempted help from an adult many years’ earlier and not received any help that time either. That was during the actual abuse. I found a small spec of courage and approached the one person that should have done all in her power to protect me. When this wasn’t the case and I was left exposed at a tender age, it created a confusion that remains with me today. I’m sure it’s an even bigger confusion to someone on the outside that has no experience with such horrors. Believe me I’ve questioned the why’s many times. What was done to me was wrong, not my fault and I shouldn’t be ashamed of it. I was used, abused and mistreated but it made me who I am. Your Father is so sweet sometimes. He said just the other day that he’d like to just walk up to HER and ask “what kind of mother are you?” Even now I somehow feel like I need to defend her. How messed up is that? I did explain to him that without all of that I wouldn’t be who I am. I might not have found all I did by turning to books for solace. I might not be as compassionate to children and understanding. I am who I am because of all I have experienced, the absolute terribleness of a childhood that could have made me bitter and to seek a life of drugs and alcohol. Instead I turned all that ugliness into a strength only God could give me. From the pain and suffering, I gained knowledge. I read book after book of families that were whole and that genuinely cared for each other. I read about faith and morals, I read about love and an image started to form inside me. I believed that I could find love and even started to believe that I deserved love, IF the right one came along. I knew then that I wouldn’t settle for just anyone. I witnessed a sibling fall into the patterns of our mother and knew that wasn’t going to be me. I had created ideals and expectations; my job gave me independence and confidence. Hard work earned me good hours and employers valued my ethics.

Then one day, after weeks and weeks of casual conversations, an unlikely relationship formed between myself and a “customer” that was a regular at the diner. I had no interest other than friendship and never would have dreamed he’d be the one, but as you all know, it’s a story for the ages. Love finds a way.

I have had decades of the love I used to read about. I have been spoiled and given the greatest gifts. Although I still have to figure out how to deal with a past that is threatening, I know that I’m not dealing with it alone. I will continue to look for the good that came out of it and find ways to accept that I did nothing wrong. That has been the biggest burden to understand; who was to blame, why was it allowed and why didn’t I know any better?

Now, back to the good stuff. Your Dad and I spend much of our time talking about each one of you. We talk about where you are in life and love, how your jobs are going and what your dreams are. What your passions are and how each one of you is finding happiness. YOU are our greatest source of happiness.

Each of you with your different personalities have some characteristics of your parents:

Have you ever noticed how much Sarah is like Dad? How tolerant and logical she is and always putting someone else’s happiness first. Sarah has a laugh that draws you in, a loyalty you want to earn and a responsibleness to be admired.

How about Andrew? He is thoughtful like his mom, laid back like his Dad and has this fierce independence to be his own person. Andrew too is a pleaser and often puts himself last in the lineup for happiness. It’s more important for him to make others happy. He is a hard worker, has life goals and a certain energy that can’t be matched.

Ryan has a lot of his Mom’s personality. Although he would hate to admit it, he feels far more than he puts on. He is quick to anger and requires a calming logic that puts him back on track. Because he is like me, I know with this passionate side comes a creative side. I don’t think he has delved very deep into that yet. Finding a release for all that builds up, will free a lot of things and relieve some of the stress. Ryan has the looks of Dad and is like Dad was as a young father finding his place in Hadley’s world.

Emily is definitely the youngest child. With that comes many things. She has had many influences, not just from her parents but from three older siblings. Emily has the work ethic of our entire family, the penny-pinching trait of Andrew, the smarts and achievement trait of Sarah, the drive of her father and the go out and do what you love of Ryan. From me she gets organization but maybe not cleanliness Emily is about to come out from under the cover of living at home and into the world of many decisions and responsibilities. There’s no doubt she will succeed, especially with the support of the rest of you that have already spread your wings.

This Valentine’s Day I felt inspired to share with you that love isn’t all flowers and chocolates. That love should be celebrated every day. It’s in the everyday things that we do that love strengthens. Even in the tough times with Communication, Will, Faith and Trust, love will give you far more than anything else this world can provide. Find ways to make others happy and feel the happy you get from that. Write that note, give that hug and “eat the cake.”  

The house may be “getting bigger,” have less noise, and fewer plates set for dinner but it’s always here to host our family and be a safe place for all to come. This house is more than a house, it’s a promise your Dad made me and together we filled it with love and we love it filled with FAMILY. Happy Valentine’s Day our little loves.

May your hearts be full, your words be kind and your blessings abundant,

Momma Waite