Learning from my climatalogical peak.

Being Cajun accounts for quite a lot of my personality traits, hobbies, favorite past-times, but you might find it surprising to learn that even my depression is ruled by the Cajun blood that runs through my veins. Between the large amounts of deathiversaries from my family and the ending of another glorious year with Lucian I become very melancholy, at the closing of every Summer. My stormiest and darkest days oddly correlate with the climatalogical peak of the Atlantic Hurricane season.

Every August and September I spend many nights in quite contemplation, wondering if I'm making enough memories and leaving an impression on Lucian's heart. I give hours pondering my efforts in preparing him for the life that lies in front of him. I desperately seek out each memory that was shared with loved ones, hoping to understand the lesson I was meant to gleam from their moments on Earth. When a storm begins to roll in I bravely close my eyes, face the wind and silently admit that I can no longer hear their voice or see their face in my mind, and in that instant I feel them next to me.

It was just the other night when I had that special juncture with my O'ma, I let the grin wash over my face and the tears stream quickly down my cheeks. Life has been weighing heavy on my heart as of late and I just let it all rush out to her, begging for guidance. It was such a freeing moment, I went to bed so joyful. I dreamt of lighthouses for the next few nights, they were a favorite of her's so I wasn't surprised but I was a little disappointed that there was no real clarity to be found in any of them. That's when I thought maybe she's telling me to BE a lighthouse. When I said those words out loud I swear I could hear her say, "Carrie Ann, you were designed to emit light and help others navigate the rough shores of life."

To the outsider, it may seem ludicrous but my purpose is clear to me now. I can take the time I need to looking longingly at the sea, remembering the happiness it has brought me, but I must muster the strength to be seen through the darkest, storm-riddled nights. I am built to ride out life's toughest storms. I must be maintained, ready and alert for the next day's trials - ever present to help guide my people to safety.

Conversations with Cheetah

Previously I have described my probing conversations with Cheetah, the short morning and afternoon commutes quickly become a formal inquisition. The years have been racing by but the daily scrutiny has remained, but he has up-ed the ante. He stuns me daily, as his subject matters widely broaden, I imagine this is due to his veracious reading, YouTube viewing (he does so in the living room, under our screening - no parent shaming needed), and countless hours of video game playing.

He plays good cop/bad cop as he grills me for answers while testing the validity of the responses with additional inquiries and promises of "googling" when our discussion has ended. After nearly ten straight minutes of examination, I pull into the driveway hoping for a reprieve. I close my eyes and try to get my heart rate back into the safe zone, while beginning to replay my answers in my mind.

Did I respond to his question about Herpes too graphically? Maybe he is too concerned with what his classmates think of him. Why in the world did I try to describe the Holocaust by myself, when I know I become too passionate? How else was I supposed to approach a questions about sperm? Thank goodness all we talked about was bugs and lizards today. What did he mean by, "but he did throw like a girl?" These moments of reflection leave me ready for round two, which never goes as well as the round he initiated; but I attempt to solidify my point or opinion, as I watch his eyes slowly begin to glaze over...

And there en lies the problem, he is only prepared to actively listen when he is ready to discuss issues with me; which I am learning happens less and less, in direct correlation with the amount of birthdays he has experienced. I'm unsure if I should be proud that he is growing more aware of his environment, that he catches every detail and written word that is around him or if I should be worried that he seems too aware of the world around him and isn't more lost in the thoughts and musings of a care-free child.

Those concerns lead me to a realization, maybe that's why many school districts have a completely separate school for children of this age, Middle School. It must be a place dripping with angst, overrun with attitude, and full of students who's eyes are stuck in the "rolled position" - what a drastic change from the light, airy, and happy hallways of the cute elementary school he currently attends. He's nervous to make that jump to the new school full of older kids, and I'm down right terrified.

I do have an ace up my sleeve though, a friend who works as a Counselor in the Middle School that Cheetah will be attending. We've discussed what changes I can expect and she assures me that things aren't as scary as I am envisioning. She has almost convinced me that Middle School is a gift to parents. It's the time in which we can train our hearts and bodies for the marathon ahead; to prepare for a barrage of arguments, patience obliteration, and additional limit testing.

As I continue to enjoy our last year at elementary school, I invite you fellow parents to incoming Middle Schoolers to take this school year and summer to cuddle your kids - when they'll let you, enjoy your conversations with them about their friends and hobbies, and try to keep your cool under the bare bulb of the investigation room.

#2016TheYearOfTheJump

As 2015 was drawing to a close, like many of people, I was contemplating the promise a new year gives. I felt like I was at a crossroad, mere steps away from embarking on a journey that would lead me to endless opportunities. But how could I ensure that I began the new year with the right stride?

I delved into researching the making of resolutions and embodying a mantra but quickly decided that they were either too ambiguous or too easy to get lost in finding the perfect fit; it was then that I stumbled onto the theory of a "Word of the Year," a word that would help guide me. I contemplated on what my word would be for several days, I googled a few choices but JUMP kept popping into my mind. A few days later Steve Harvey posted a video on his Face Book page that sealed the deal! The year would be #2016TheYearOfTheJump

During the Year of The Jump I would leap at opportunities when they presented themselves; I would say, "Yes" when I would typically find reasons to say, "No;" I would do things that made me uncomfortable or challenged me to push the limits; but most importantly I would not be the same person on December 31, 2016, that I was on January 15, 2016. Keeping a word forefront in my mind for an entire year was much easier than observing a resolution for 365 days, 2016 did not disappoint.

In 2016 I started 2 new businesses, quit my full-time office job to work for myself, attended a Girls Weekend when I only knew one out of nine people, set a goal and failed to meet it, set several more goals and crushed them, met new friends and established lasting friendships, and began dying my hair - just to name a few of my vaults.

As you can imagine my successes in 2016 have led me to another genesis, 2017. How do I follow such a great year of change and adventure? I had been pondering that exact thought for days when I decided to put my question on Face Book and within minutes I had struck gold. My dear friend MMorgan suggested SOAR, saying that there was no better word to follow #2016TheYearOfTheJump and I concur, completely.

IMAGE SOURCE: SOARCONNECTION

While many are lamenting that 2016 was a year that crushed dreams and ruined lives, I can look back on those 525,600 minutes knowing I tried my hardest and gave it my all...watch out #2017TheYearToSoar - I'm coming for you!

IMAGE SOURCE: GETTY IMAGES.

black belt: a journey, not a destination

While out with my boys this weekend I was recognized.  Rereading the phrase I just wrote really makes things abundently clear for me.  The family and I have been back in Cajun Country for nealy 4 years and I finally found what was missing.  After some gentle nudging from Tarzan I stepped up and joined karate.

As we get older we tend to lean toward comfort.  We strive to find the place where we can strive, we find what we are good at and we stick with it.  It has been over a decade since I have been in a truly uncomfortable situation.  Karate has changed this; I have been attacked, hurt, embarrassed, nervous, and scared.  Now that I am 3 belts into this journey I can tell you I have also felt pride, excitment, surprise, and joy.  There may be times where I dread going to class because I know that it's going to take A LOT of hard work to get me 'black belt ready' but I think I have to do it.  I am suppossed to be a Black belt wearing Momma!

So to the lady at Academy who wanted to let me know I was impressive at Friday night's graduation...you ain't seen nothing yet!  (Oh and thanks for the boost to my ego and my motivation, lol.)

Shihan's 21 day challenge

During last Thursday's self-defense class we received a surprise visit by our dojo's Shihan, he focused on muscle memory as an integral part in defending oneself on the streets.  He highlighted techniques that could be altered to give you more time to get away or to secure yourself a safer position.  He discussed the importance of becoming comfortable with the feeling of being kicked or punched in this classroom situation.  He revealed that in most dangerous situations people are unable to respond appropriately due to shock; if you are familiar with the feelings that come about from a physical confrontation you will be able to react and create a safer situation for yourself. 

When class ended, Sensei asked me to speak with Shihan about my 'Year of Dragon' and see if he could shed any light on why I was hitting a wall during my training.  We spoke at length about my juicing, diet improvements, exercise challenge, and my training for the C25K; he was proud that I had taken my health into my own hands but felt I was pushing too hard.  His blunt and honest advice was refreshing.  "You are too big to be running right now.  Why are you doing SO much, you are going to stress your heart out of your chest."  After learning what my end goals were and discussing the hurdles I was encountering he came up with a 21 day challenge just for me.

"You must move every day, eat only good foods...good foods do not come from places that have drive-thru windows.  I want you to drink wheatgrass everyday, walk 1 mile every day, work with your arm weights, allow yourself bad foods every once in a while, and do hard workouts (in addition to the daily mile) 3 days a week". 

I am 5 days into his 21 day challenge, Amazingly I have been able to keep the wheatgrass down.  I have more energy and I am able to rest better at night, it is hard to get up early every morning but I promised him 21 days and I refuse to not meet such an easy challenge with all I've got.  Sixteen days to go!

Wax on, wax off.

It has been busy couple of weeks in the Smith household, we have signed up for a new after school program and it has taken some time to get used to our new schedule.  For some time now, Cheetah has shown interest in karate and Tarzan and I were more than happy to sign him up for some extra physical activity.  I knew I was going to be pleased with him learning some techniques in self-defense but really had no idea how much help it would be in the behavior department.

He still has his moments where listening and focusing can be taxing but it's obvious that he realizes it and tries his best to keep it in check.  Not only has karate helped him to learn the correct behavior for social & school situations but we have also seen a huge change in his self-confidence.  It even shows on the playgrounds we have been frequenting.

NO CRAWLING!!!

I know that no matter how long he stays in the program, only positive things can come from earning stripes for memory, discipline, and fitness.  My 'Little Ninja' is thoroughly enjoying his time in the dojo and I love seeing the accomplished look on his face each time we head home.  It's a win - win!

365 more days without you.

Here I sit surrounded by soggy kleenex, wet faced, and sad.  I can't believe I have survived 730 days without you.  I felt sure that with both you and Opa gone my heart would crumble and turn to dust.  With your's and Opa's 'anniversaries' being so close together the end of summer has really began to take it's toll.  I know it gets easier but I must admit it's hard, it doesn't help that I have planted my feet firmly in the ground and I have started to take 'root'.  It's as if I am taking a stand.  I have lost enough great people from my life and I am scared to move forward.  It's not that I haven't been happy, loved, or had fun; it's just that every other breath seems to get caught in my throat and tears try to well up in my eyes. 


I am so thankful that Tarzan and Cheetah had the chance to build real relationships with you, knowing you mean so much to them has helped me to mourn openly.  If a wave of emotion hits, Tarzan can truly know the great loss I am feeling.  Cheetah speaks of you regularly, and he keeps that beanie baby kitten you gave him sitting on his dresser.  It nearly kills me each time he wishes he could see your face again and give you a hug...what I wouldn't give for a chance at that myself.

You were always a constant in my life, ever present, ever loving.  One of my first soild memories of you is lying in a twin bed (with you in the one right next to mine) and talking with eachother until we fell asleep.  When I was scared you would hold my hand, and give me your glow in the dark rosary to help sooth my nerves.  The last time we talked I told you how scary it was to watch you leaving me, and you grabbed my hand and said, "I know you are scared but I can't be here just because you're scared...I did what I was suppossed to do". You were my compass, a place where I could always find my 'true north' and I fear I may be lost without you

The beginning of goodbye.

Once Cheetah reached the toddler stage we began making preparations for his entry into school.  We drilled him on numbers, colors, and shapes.  We worked with them for weeks on memorizing addresses, phone numbers, and names.  We went shopping for supplies, uniforms, and snacks while using every spare moment as chance to 'teach'.  Tarzan even instructed him on wiping, grooming, and belts.  We answered question after question while explaining life's most difficult quandaries but we brushed over one important situation.  The Goodbye.

We know how we feel; our hearts are so heavy, sad at the sight of him in his uniform, and wanting to wait a bit longer to be sure he's ready.  But what's going on in his head as he heads out into uncharted territory?  How foreign to be dropped off at the door, no one to hoover and remind him to work, who will help open the ketchup, will the new person in his life know what to do if he pukes? 

As the car approaches the morning drop-off lane, my heart plummets deep in my stomach, just waiting for his inevitable tears.  As they begin to fall down his sweet face and he begs for 'just one more kiss' I know he must feel what I do, the beginning of 'goodbye'...

Mustering up some courage.

Now that Mother’s Day has come and gone we are now preparing for Cheetah’s graduation from Preschool.  For years I have not understood what the big deal is about graduating from preschool; that is until today when I happened by Cheetah’s temple of learning. There they all stood in their royal blue gowns and mortarboards, headed to practice for this Saturday’s commencement exercise and it hit me. He’s not my sweet little baby anymore, this August he will start Kindergarten at ‘big kid’ school. He stepped out of the room to take his medicine and I had to hold back the tears. I gushed to him, “Oh Cheetah you look so adorable, I can’t believe you’re getting so big!!” He blushed and began fidgeting with his tassel and replied sheepishly, “Don’t worry Mommy I’m still just a kid.”

I have been trying to lead him in the best way that I know how; I fail a good bit and loose my temper or worse, draw a blank on how to handle the current situation. I have loved answering his questions, taking him on new adventures, and being his best friend…I am not ready to hear the ‘nothings’, ‘I don’t cares’, and ‘I hate you's’.

I still stand firm in my ‘no more kid’s’ decision but this week has me feeling so nastalgic and teary eyed; I have been told by several other mother’s that once the school years start the time will just fly by. I am having problems falling asleep; my mind is like a tennis match. My thoughts bounce from one end of the court to the other in almost no time at all.

Will I be alive to see him graduate from high school?

Will he be alive to graduate high school?

Thankfully I have a few more months before I have to do the MUCH dreaded drop off in August. He has his path out in front of him and it’s scary as hell having NO idea where it will lead and who will be along for the ride.

Wordless Wednesday