How to make a memory.

It was a real shock for me to learn that not everyone's parents believed in them the way my parents believed in me.  Whatever thing intrigued me they would make sure I got enough of a chance to experience it that I could make an informed decision about whether it was something I'd like to do with my life.

I remember a flying lesson my dad arranged for me.  They took me to Seattle for a cattle call chance at being a model, my mom even took my head shots.  They sent me to Washington DC for a week to see if journalism might interest me.  I knew that if I thought I could do something, they thought I was right.  I know how much that confidence in me inspired the confidence I have in myself.  Tonight, the eve of Thanksgiving I want everyone to know that I am thankful for parents who believed in me.  I am thankful that I had that example to learn from to be able to give my child experiences she might otherwise have missed.  Even if that experience is as simple as making a chocolate pecan pie - at the age of 2.  When other people might tell her she isn't big enough, I want her to know that I believe in her.  

That said, this is one heck of a good looking pie.  Not only was she making a pie, we were making a memory.

Somnambulation.

This is how the day usually ends.  Her refusing to go to sleep and then like a light, she's out.  As a mental note though, she may start sleep walking at some point.  It isn't outside the scope of reality.  I used to talk in my sleep all the time.  You can ask my sister, she will tell you the funniest things Crystal has said in her sleep.  I hear my girl sometimes talking in her sleep.  I'll have to keep an eye on her just to be safe.  Can't have her wander the neighborhood at night not knowing that she's out there.

Other than that, it is pretty easy to keep this kid entertained.  A $1 balloon with a dump truck on it from the dollar store, a few kitchen items to stack.  She has a whole room full of toys . . . that she rarely ever plays with.

I am pretty sure I should have been mad that she took all of the pots and pans out of this cabinet.  I should be mad that she was using my glass vegetable tray as a sled.  Coincidentally, if you are going to ask my sister about me talking in my sleep, ask about the vegetable tray.  The truth is, I needed to take the stuff out of there and wash it anyway.  A cricket died in there and I have been putting it off.  This just makes it so that I do what I am supposed to be doing.  That's all.

Like most kids, she has an active imagination.  One that leaves her using boxes as play things.  I am a sucker though whether it is hide and seek in the box from someone's microwave or playing banana phones in the middle of Walmart, I like to encourage her creativity.  I think she gets that from me, too.

She cried.

She cried so hard today.  It broke my heart.  I am assured by friends who have gone through the same thing, it's only the beginning.  Xyla is getting to an age where she knows what a birthday is.  She knows what Christmas is.  She looked around the park the other day and saw all the other kids playing with their daddies and I knew that she knew something was missing.  It's not like she hasn't seen her dad since then.  She has seen him.  She also knows inside that he is supposed to be where she needs him to be when she needs him to be there, and he's not.

I have been battling the last few months about how much and of what to write.  There are consequences when you talk about your ex online.  That is why I haven't written anything.  The idea that he could use any part of what I say in court has consumed me.  

I knew this would be coming.  I knew she would start to know.  I have to admit, I didn't prepare myself for it.  I thought I did, but I didn't.  I don't know what to tell her.  She's 2 1/2 and she is understanding concepts I didn't teach her about.  Maybe it's my fault.  I have done everything I could to make sure she knew who he was.  Now, she is finding out who he is.  I don't want him to break her heart.  

I really don't think he understood that this is what he was choosing when he chose to leave me when I was 3 months pregnant.  How do I protect her?  How do I tell her he made a different choice?  How do I tell her the truth without hurting her?  This is the hard part about being a single mom.  That is why I am sharing it now.  I know how she feels.  I know how she is going to feel.  I knew it would happen, how do I explain that?  

I have met my biological father, but I have never known him.  Instead I got a wonderful step -father.  It feels weird to write it that way.  I haven't known any other father.  I didn't have to bear what my daughter is going through because I had a choice, the same way my biological father had a choice.  When the time came for me to decide if I wanted my father in my life, I chose not to contact him.  There was nothing positive he could add to my life.  Only pain.  I didn't want the pain.  I don't want if for her.  

Similarly, her dad has only met his father once.  He had an idea in his mind about what his life would have been like if his father had been around.  When his father came he told him all the ways he could have been different but he just couldn't.  Even though he knew his son was out there he couldn't change his life to be there for him.  

Now here I am, at this cross road.  I just keep praying that God shows me the way.  That God comforts me.  That he gives me the courage to walk the path he's given me.  That he gives me to gentleness to help my daughter make sense of it all.  That she finds comfort in my arms.

She cried herself to sleep on the way home.  It didn't take long for her to be asleep.  She was already overly tired.  Friends, please pray for me.  Pray that God gives me the right words to comfort her and that he helps me keep a tight rein on the ones I want to say.