My Children

Thanks D's Designs for the above tag...and the others previous to this one. 

I was instantly drawn to the above picture, because it reminds me so much of my daughter when she was a toddler.  She had light brown/blondish hair...which progressively got a little darker.  Now she dyes it black so she and her boyfriend match...  Okay...whatever, right?  What can you say.  The new boyfriend has jet black curly hair, and I swear the other day when he was over, I actually thought he was my daughter for a minute. 

I know I've written about my Nicholas more recently, but let me tell you about my daughter, Elizabeth.  She was a wild one as well-the one who would giggle at my desperation as I tried to catch her as she ran around the pool.  Lizzy was always the little girl, prancing around the house in her plastic heels, plastic crown, and play boas.  She hasn't changed much---she still does prance around the house--she just has the real stuff now, and she can apply makeup very well.  All the videos taken of when she was small include her running somewhere, with me, running after, trying to catch her.  Now she is performing on stage, and majoring in theatre.   Before the age of 9, she had broken both arms, stabbed a finger, gone through a glass coffee table, almost got hit by a car not once, but twice, and swallowed a quarter.  She is also the child who unfortunately witnessed a lot of upheaval during the time I and her father were together.  I wish I could go back and make things pretty--take all the ugliness from the past, but I can't.  She remembers quite a bit--even more than her father cares to admit to her now.  I guess he thinks his "escape" to the East coast wouldn't effect her much.  He was wrong..  Very, very wrong.

Andrew is my second child who is about six years younger than his sister.  Unlike his sister, Andrew has always been the more cautious child--very clingy and attached to his mom.  For his 7th birthday I took him to the woods to take a trip on train.  As we waited for the train, I decided to take a picture of the training coming up the tracks.  Although I wasclear away from the tracks, Andrew shouted at me, afraid I would be hit by the locomotive.  I have the picture of him waving his arms, with a real look of horror on his face.  I thought it was funny, but he was truly worried that I would get hit by the train.  His father left the state when he was five or six, and to tell you the truth, I don't know if that is a good thing or not.  He doesn't seem to remember much about what happened, nor does he remember too much of his early childhood with his father.  I do remember dropping him off at his father's, and him being very frightened of me being near when his father was around.  He did not want us together.  When I moved back into my old condo, with my two kids, Andrew was the one who made sure the doors were locked, and the windows were closed.  He would call me at work to check on me, before I got off my 8 hour job, before I started later at my part time.  Today, Andrew is 12, but, he still feels comfortable sitting on my lap, hugging and kissing me goodbye.   

Today, perhaps for the first time in quite a few years, they finally feel secure in their lives.  Being a single parent is hard---especially when you are trying to make ends meet as much as possible.  Keeping a happy face on for the sake of your children, wondering and hoping at the same time as I wrote the check for groceries,  that it wouldn't clear until pay day.  Working two jobs, overtime, telemarketing from home..  Seems like to some people, they were happier, and liked me better when I was struggling.  "Poor, Julie.."  Having to watch those looks of sympathy from people I hardly knew who knew how the EX really screwed me over.  All of that negativity was bound to bounce back on my kids.  I was so afraid they would know that we were barely getting by.  

Hats off to all the single women and men out there who have raised their children alone.  It's hard...very, very hard. I don't know how I could have done it with the help of my parents. 

My daughter brought down some old videos of when she was a child.  Her father was in them.  Although the sound of his voice does make me cringe from time to time, I can honestly say now that I do not feel any bitterness towards him.  Weird, butI don't.  In fact I don't feel ANYTHING besides pity.  He doesn't even have the videos of his childrento look back on.  How he can live without seeing his kids for years at a time is beyond me.  I can't do anything about it.  It's out of my hands--in God's hands.  I am in my home, with a loving husband, and four beautiful and wonderful children, my daughter, and my sons--yes, I'm counting my step-son, whom I have not described here.  I cannot erase the past, and I cannot heal all the past hurt--we can only rise above it!