I'm so fortunate! My daughter loves me.
What's the big deal? It could very easily have gone the other way. And I dare not forget it.
True, I made certain she had good foods, plenty of rest, dressed adorably, and got lots of hugs and kisses. For her birthdays, I learned to decorate cakes and made an amazing Minnie Mouse cake, as well as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cake when they were all the rage. Halloween, I sewed her costumes, beginning with a bunny costume I modified from a Cabbage Patch Kid's pattern. Next, came a voluminous sweet clown costume from fuschia pink, royal purple, and sky blue satin fabrics. That one was sized so abundantly and was so beloved that she wore it a few years until the witch costume. Yeah, I made that one, too.
We checked out stacks of books from the library and cuddled up to read them in our overstuffed recliner. I taught her the fine art of armpit farts, in front of the mirror one hot summer day. We bowled together on a league. I jumped at the chance to help out in her kindergarten class. I was all about my baby girl.
And then, alcohol happened. Late nights at the bowling alley weren't enough; they stretched into days; it led to infidelity; it led to broken hearts and homes. Alcohol brought me lower companions, and opened up a wealth of dead end jobs. It allowed me to stand idly by while I lost my dream home. It made bad decisions feel better, like boyfriends and a geographic.
A struggle to survive post-divorce, the visitation emotional rollercoaster, and my night time, weekend fix of social and mind-altering drink. Stuck in self-reproach over the loss of my life, the loss of my daughter, the loss of my husband, the loss of my home. I long to see her, to hold her, to care for her. She arrives then I'm reminded of all that I've lost. I need to drink. I need my daughter. I need to drink.
Sobriety. Meetings. Steps. Amends. New outlook on life. Bought a condo, our own space. Tools to live my life on life's terms. My girl visits and life is getting better. We cuddle under warm blankets while reading the Student's Bible, not turning up the thermostat. Still difficult to put her on airplane, but I do it anyway. Then hit a meeting. I'm still around questionable people, doing questionable things, not come into my own, yet. I relapse.
Sobriety, reprisal. Morals and values firmly in place, eviction of bad influences from my life. Bought my Harley Davidson, joined Harley Owner's Group and Ladies of Harley. Brought her into the wonderful world of Harley Davidson, leather, rides, rallies, Broken Chains, Christian Motorcycle Association, church and sunday school, and thanks to her, we made some life long friends.
When my daughter learned how to drive she proudly announced her achievement. When she asked to drive my Subaru Outback, I turned the keys over to her and took the passenger seat. Our eyes were huge and our legs were shaky when she almost hit the curb making her first left turn. And I kept her tattoos secret from her father, when she got them after he forbade her. I saw no reason she shouldn't have the tasteful tats she wanted.
I met and married my husband, her stepfather, a man she seems to have bonded with easily. We were not able to pay for college but we did buy her books. We were extraordinarily proud of her grades! She helped me understand algebra when I was in college. I was honored to be invited to and attend both her high school and college graduations. I was first in my family to earn a college degree, an associate's degree, but I was pleased when she outdid me, earning her bachelor's.
Equally, post-graduation she landed the job that I had at the pinnacle of my career, executive assistant to the president of an aerospace company. Again, she surpassed her mama and once again, I couldn't be more proud! I was blessed to be able to watch her in action right after my diagnosis. She seems to have an energy and a focus that I only aspired to achieve. She knows exactly who she is.
Learning to crochet at my favorite local yarn shop opened up a new hobby for her, but she went on to teach herself how to knit. She's talented like that! Though the years, she took pride in cooking things for my husband and I. Buche d' Noel, teriyaki steak, cookies, etc. But she outdid herself when we visited her for Christmas the year I got diagnosed with ALS. Also, that year she stunned me with a blue and white knit afghan (ALS colors).
Nowadays she visits me in a nursing facility, every few months as a matter of fact. Besides my husband, she's my most frequent visitor. And so thoughtful. She spends nights with me, stocks me up with goodies, acts as my tech guru and cooks for me. And she lives two big states away. I'm so very lucky!
What's the big deal? It could very easily have gone the other way. And I dare not forget it.
True, I made certain she had good foods, plenty of rest, dressed adorably, and got lots of hugs and kisses. For her birthdays, I learned to decorate cakes and made an amazing Minnie Mouse cake, as well as a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cake when they were all the rage. Halloween, I sewed her costumes, beginning with a bunny costume I modified from a Cabbage Patch Kid's pattern. Next, came a voluminous sweet clown costume from fuschia pink, royal purple, and sky blue satin fabrics. That one was sized so abundantly and was so beloved that she wore it a few years until the witch costume. Yeah, I made that one, too.
We checked out stacks of books from the library and cuddled up to read them in our overstuffed recliner. I taught her the fine art of armpit farts, in front of the mirror one hot summer day. We bowled together on a league. I jumped at the chance to help out in her kindergarten class. I was all about my baby girl.
And then, alcohol happened. Late nights at the bowling alley weren't enough; they stretched into days; it led to infidelity; it led to broken hearts and homes. Alcohol brought me lower companions, and opened up a wealth of dead end jobs. It allowed me to stand idly by while I lost my dream home. It made bad decisions feel better, like boyfriends and a geographic.
A struggle to survive post-divorce, the visitation emotional rollercoaster, and my night time, weekend fix of social and mind-altering drink. Stuck in self-reproach over the loss of my life, the loss of my daughter, the loss of my husband, the loss of my home. I long to see her, to hold her, to care for her. She arrives then I'm reminded of all that I've lost. I need to drink. I need my daughter. I need to drink.
Sobriety. Meetings. Steps. Amends. New outlook on life. Bought a condo, our own space. Tools to live my life on life's terms. My girl visits and life is getting better. We cuddle under warm blankets while reading the Student's Bible, not turning up the thermostat. Still difficult to put her on airplane, but I do it anyway. Then hit a meeting. I'm still around questionable people, doing questionable things, not come into my own, yet. I relapse.
Sobriety, reprisal. Morals and values firmly in place, eviction of bad influences from my life. Bought my Harley Davidson, joined Harley Owner's Group and Ladies of Harley. Brought her into the wonderful world of Harley Davidson, leather, rides, rallies, Broken Chains, Christian Motorcycle Association, church and sunday school, and thanks to her, we made some life long friends.
When my daughter learned how to drive she proudly announced her achievement. When she asked to drive my Subaru Outback, I turned the keys over to her and took the passenger seat. Our eyes were huge and our legs were shaky when she almost hit the curb making her first left turn. And I kept her tattoos secret from her father, when she got them after he forbade her. I saw no reason she shouldn't have the tasteful tats she wanted.
I met and married my husband, her stepfather, a man she seems to have bonded with easily. We were not able to pay for college but we did buy her books. We were extraordinarily proud of her grades! She helped me understand algebra when I was in college. I was honored to be invited to and attend both her high school and college graduations. I was first in my family to earn a college degree, an associate's degree, but I was pleased when she outdid me, earning her bachelor's.
Equally, post-graduation she landed the job that I had at the pinnacle of my career, executive assistant to the president of an aerospace company. Again, she surpassed her mama and once again, I couldn't be more proud! I was blessed to be able to watch her in action right after my diagnosis. She seems to have an energy and a focus that I only aspired to achieve. She knows exactly who she is.
Learning to crochet at my favorite local yarn shop opened up a new hobby for her, but she went on to teach herself how to knit. She's talented like that! Though the years, she took pride in cooking things for my husband and I. Buche d' Noel, teriyaki steak, cookies, etc. But she outdid herself when we visited her for Christmas the year I got diagnosed with ALS. Also, that year she stunned me with a blue and white knit afghan (ALS colors).
Nowadays she visits me in a nursing facility, every few months as a matter of fact. Besides my husband, she's my most frequent visitor. And so thoughtful. She spends nights with me, stocks me up with goodies, acts as my tech guru and cooks for me. And she lives two big states away. I'm so very lucky!
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