You are stronger than you think

Every now and then, I get a lovely link posted on my Facebook timeline. (I just realized there was really no reason to specify “Facebook” there. Where else would one post  a link, after all?)  Some are from friends, a lot involve Gilmore Girls.

Recently there was this:

10 Things You Learn From Being Raised By A Strong Mother

And my first reaction, as it always is to being referred to as strong was…really? Me?  I’m just a kid from a small town.  OK, so yea, I’ve been through some sh*t. Haven’t we all. Then I thought back to just how much sh*t  I’ve actually been through.

Whoa. Yea, maybe if I wasn’t so strong I would have been in a strait jacket in a padded room by now.  I have been a daughter, a sister, a wife, a divorcee, a widow. And a mom. Twice. A grandmother X4.  And looking back, it’s close to a miracle we survived the first time around in the late 70’s.  I ended up working for AND living with my parents for awhile. I never thought of that as being a sign of strength. However I always did what I had to do to make it work, to see that my daughter had all that she needed.

I’ve been happy. God, I have known love and happiness.  Briefly.  And then terminal death came knocking and I was on my own again. I don’t know how I survived that time but somehow I did.  I had a daughter who counted on me, who needed me. I never let her see me break. Never let her see me weak. I cried on my own time, screamed at God on my own time.  Sat on the stairs and cried on my own time.   I had to be strong for her.  That was the only thing I knew for sure.  I had to know that she had no fear of it all falling apart. No matter how tenuous my grip on it was.

I got married again. Had a daughter again. Ended up single again. Again, I had a daughter who was going through her own issues with the mess we’d made.  I stood firm against her anger and her hurt. I let her have at it, absorbed all she could dish out, and patiently waited for her to come to terms with certain things. And on it went. Moved to VA, got in a really crappy relationship, came back home and moved into the house I grew up in so that my mom wouldn’t be alone with her habit of falling over nothing. Through the 16 years that I’ve been divorced, I hope, I pray that my girls see that it’s not a bad thing to be on your own. I have survived all this marriage disaster and I am Still. Strong.  I never lost MYSELF. Then there came the time that I realized that I am (and this is not to say that I don’t LOVE being these things) not just Ruth’s daughter, Stacie’s mom, Katie’s mom,  Faith, Kayla, Brady and Seany’s Mama Tess.  I am, proudly, Tess. I've taken back my fathers name.  With the (somewhat miraculous) love and support of The Fiance, and my kids, I have become who I was meant to be. Through more heartbreak than I sometimes care to remember, through divorces and deaths, the loss of a brother who I adored,  my parents who, though I sometimes took them for granted, and occasionally really REALLY disliked them,  were always there for me, never let me fall. I want to be that parent, the one who accepts their faults and their quirks, and I want to say that I have, I want to know that I have.   I’ve come to a place where I am happy. My girls are grown up, though I hope they still feel like they need me now and then.  I hope that I truly have taught them all these things:

1. You learn the value of independence.

2. You learn the meaning of unconditional love.

3. You learn how to love yourself.

4. You learn that you can be both strong and soft. 

5. You learn that it’s not easy being a woman.

6. You learn never to look back.

7. You learn the importance of patience and faith.

8. You learn how to create your own happiness.

9. You learn that she still knows more about love than you do.

10. You learn how to be a good mother.

If my girls have learned these things, then I have done my job. If my granddaughters learn these things, I’ve done overtime.

Letters To My Unborn~Antix

Chorus
papa didn’t raise no fool/no fool/no fool/papa didn’t raise no fool/no fool/no fool X2

V1
you want a story kid?/well let me kick it then/don’t fall victim to the miseries of wicked men/don’t pay attention to the failures of the people you/see as the icons/there ain't no precedent for you/you’re all alone/but I don’t mean that to disillusion/but find your feet/get your stride/and get to moving/people hate/it's like a default or a precondition/forget those people/don’t you ever/ever listen/life is music so play your own violins/you write the symphony/decide when you think it ends/question everything/but that’s a given/don’t become hypnotised by nobody else's rhythm/cry when you wanna cry/sing when you wanna sing/you ain’t happy with your life/change it then/people moan about the world/but do nothing for it/see the problems that exist/but then ignore them/treat ‘em well/but don’t let 'em play you for a fool/pinch of salt when you digest what they give to you/love your mother/whoever she turns out to be/I’m sure she’s beautiful/like you/I can't wait to see/life is fragile/so even if I’m not around/know I went out in a blaze of righteous sound/speak my name frequently/so you remember me/coz easily the dust/settles on our memories

V2

youth is wasted on foolishness and indiscretion/but don’t you worry about that/you gotta learn them lessons/you'll make mistakes/that’s just what we do/but learning this way is worth more than what you’ll learn in school/avoid religion/it’s ignorance/and breeds contempt/blind faith is for the weak/who don’t use their heads/you see injustice/speak out and kill it dead/apathy is the worst thing that exists in men/money's important but don’t put it on a pedestal/if you got no soul/what the hell did you get it for?/you lack respect if you sold out to make your way/it ain’t worth it/you'll burn in the paper chase/life has rules/but most of them are made for breaking/it’s full of jewels/and most of them are made for taking/don’t be timid/and don’t shy/no one gives you nothing/you take it/or you step aside/the odds are stacked/but that’s the way I like it/who wants it on a platter?/I wanna take it fighting/be a dreamer/but don’t dream your life away/be idealistic/but execute the things you say/and when your time comes/and you face the dark abyss/and for the first time you see what the darkness is/you’ll say/”damn, now they gonna remember me”/”I won’t let the dust settle on these memories

V3
your grandma’s gone/but trust me she'd have loved you/and you'd have loved her back/her spirit would have touched you/my sole regret is not taking better care of her/when she was sick/but I was young and not aware of the/repercussions of the impact of my actions/it stays with always/my own private sadness/but listen closely/when I tell you/regret is something that will never/ever/help you/you let it go/don’t hold to hatred/it eats you up alive/strips you 'til you’re naked/this planet's full up with misdirected rage/inherited malevolence that eats away the brain/that’s not for you/you’re a light that’s gonna shine/illuminate the darkness/and one more time/you can say

Live, Love, Laugh, Bake

Live, love, laugh, bake
I am not an obsessive type. There are one or two things I’m, shall we say, passionate about. Obsessive sounds so…stalk-y. One is baking. Of course. Creating delicious, sometimes sinfully decadent sweets and seeing how people enjoy them, the creative freedom it gives me is just the best.
My nails. Anyone who knows me knows this.  Every two weeks, without fail, I’m sitting in Sasa’s chair while she does her magic. Are they ridiculously long for someone who spends her days at the keyboard and her weekends in the kitchen?  Perhaps. But I can’t imagine being without them. Plus, it’s my hour of pampering every two weeks. I owe that to myself.
My newest obsession is tattoos. It took awhile to admit this. Tattoos? For a girl raised in the 60’s and 70’s, yea, for someone my age?  What WOULD my mother say!
The first one was small. At the back of my neck. I designed it. T, S, and K intertwined. The words “Bound by Blood” underneath.  Me and my girls, forever bound. It made sense. It’s permanent no matter what, blood ties don’t go away.
Then there was the small Celtic heart on my hip, with MPD in it. Michael. The fiancé. The love of my life. Permanent. Likely the last man I will ever love. My other half, my heart and soulmate.  15 years of him, and a great many more if we’re so blessed.  I always thought it was crazy to tattoo someone’s initials on oneself. But no. Not crazy. It’s a statement. It’s “I love you and will always have you with me”.
Then there was the “Can cosúil go bhfuil aon duine ag éisteacht” with all shamrocks and stuff. “Sing like no one is listening”. Because why not.  It’s the music thing. It’s the Irish thing. It’s me.

“My destiny is riding again” with lavender lilies. My favorite flower, some of my favorite lyrics. Stevie Nicks. Because my destiny is ALWAYS riding, always changing, always getting me where I am meant to be.
And now, the newest. The Baking tattoo by an amazing tattoo artist. I love that I walk into Cliff’s with a drawing, an idea, and they just run with it. I started with this:

And Anthony turned it into this:

And I love it. I told him the handles on the rolling pin had to be red. A tribute to my Nana, who had an old wooden rolling pin (mine is marble but I still have hers somewhere) with red handles. I still have her best recipes, the ones that we were able to con her into actually writing down. Although I still am not quite sure how to decipher 4 “scoops” of sugar. The lavender (“sterling” ) roses, a tip of the hat to my late brother, he loved sterling roses. The wooden spoon and the whisk, Must haves. And Live, Love, Laugh, Bake, because, why not.

I think I’m done with the tattoos now.  My mother, I’m sure, is looking down on me with that disapproving face, I can hear her saying “Oh, Te-RE-esa”…in THAT voice.  That voice haunts me sometimes. But she always did know that I was my own person, a rebel in my own way, so I’m sure she understands. As for my brother, he would have loved it, loved that I’ve found this passion for baking, and am that proud of what I do. He was, after all, a chef. I was on occasion, his sous chef for family dinners, and his baker for the desserts for those dinners. Yea, he’d be all for it.  And I’m ok with that, I’m ok with who I have become, tats and all,  and that’s what really matters.