I haven't written on this blog in almost two months...which I think is the longest time I've ever gone without saying SOMETHING. I've thought about writing a million somethings, but those thoughts usually occur somewhere around 3 am when I am in crazy "see what I can dig up to worry about" mode.
After Rip died, I felt compelled to write. That's not a strong enough word...it was almost like if I didn't write what was in my head that very minute whatever it was would become too big for me to deal with. Writing was a lifeline.
Writing also became a part of me, something I will always be thankful for. I still write, in fact I'm writing for a couple of local publications on the side now, and I truly enjoy it. But that need to put everything on paper seems to have faded.
I guess my life seems pretty normal right now. Almost everything I do is stuff that every other mom I know is doing. There isn't a reason to get it out here because nobody understands it out there.
Don't get me wrong, I'm still different. I still feel my heart sink when somebody says "wait til you have two!" It will always catch me off guard when someone asks how many children I have. I will always have days when I cry because I miss my baby boy.
But most days, I feel peaceful. Well, busy and peaceful. At peace, I guess. At peace with exactly the kind of mother I am, and exactly the kind of family we are. A broken thing that is slowly being put back together, with the cracks still visible to anyone close enough to us who cares to look.
Most of the time I feel love. And I feel loved...by God, by my husband, by my friends, by my drama queen of a two year old. That love doesn't look a darn thing like I thought it would four years ago, but it is fought-for love...and that's the best kind.
I am happy. I never in a million years thought I would be. Could be. Its kind of a miracle, really.
Now, this is not to say every day is peace, love, and happiness. Peace is generally not having your two year old smack your face and make a big production over saying sorry. Love is not always having your husband fuss over the new scratches on your car for thirty minutes (its not like I do this stuff on purpose). Happiness is rarely found while cleaning out a crock pot a solid three weeks after making a roast. No, that's all called yesterday.
That's also called normal. Sometimes normal can be even better than peace, love, and happiness.