Bittersweet and special were the days with the sounds of running through our house from our three children. When I think of them, I have a smile on my face. Our three kids were close in age and the first two were girls, with the last one being a boy. The many adventures and fun we had during their childhood. I believe for many reasons it kept me young at heart. I was able to stay home during their school years, not work, and often I feel very blessed to have had that opportunity. Kids grow up so fast, it would seem if you blinked for just a millisecond, the time would surely pass you by.

Our oldest daughter was an artsy” kind of gal. She literally spent most of her free time drawing or creating some abstract “thing-a-ma-gig” whenever she could. She would spend hours finding things very small and tiny to craft together and create something genius. We were always amazed at what her hands and mind came up with. She spent a lot of time studying creatures of the outdoors too. I use to brag that she knew everything about everything in the animal world. That was not far from the truth, she really did learn facts and pile them into her smart head. She retained her knowledge of things really well. I think sometimes she must have been born with this stuff already in her”wiring”.

Our second child, was our little song bird. She always ran towards the music side of things. She stayed in chorus groups all through high school and learnt the piano well enough to fill in for her music teacher at times. She was always the social one of our two daughters and she grew to be taller than me, which isn’t standing taller than most of her peers she felt often time, awkward. Her dad and I though thought she was great anyway. She used that height to play sports and run in track so I’d say that was a blessing for her. She hated being the youngest daughter but she did like the fact she had a younger brother.

Our son just graduated from high school and he is very talented as well. Saying this , of course from a mother’s perspective, but it is true. He taught hisself how to play the string instruments very well. He also has a wonderful singing voice. He , like my youngest daughter excelled in music. He stayed in choir all through his highschool. His talents helped him to become more social and he stands tall at 5’10” .The two last kids got their height from their dad.  My son, like all boys, wanted to be tall and he got his wish.

I am very proud of the many talents each of my kids possess. The main thing though as their mom is that they are happy, truly happy. I would not want them to ever feel disappointments, or sadness or defeat. Truth is though our lives were not made to be without any of those feelings. If we learn to gather things from things we go through, we will be the better for it. Sure it sucks, feeling those kinds of things but it is necessary. That way when the best, happiest, most sweetest moments come, we can enjoy them all the more. As a mother I want to always see them smile in the end, after whatever comes their way.

Isn’t funny how we can get so caught up in a moment or situation that we fail to see what really matters, or what we really have when we have it? I sometimes do for myself, and I miss my kids younger days when it seemed there was not much of worry, or anything else that would harm their spirits. As parent we must not fail to remember those times, or those moments when things were special. We must also try to pick our children up when we can and show them it will be okay. Sometimes there are no answers to things and we simply must try to walk them through it. I am not a parent genius or expert, but I know that we only get this one life and that our children grow up so fast.

Take time to remember, reflect, redirect and renew.

Kids grow up too.

Foolish Heart

There you sit,

Un-encumbered by the amount of loving intent that is shown.

stone artwork
Photo by Pixabay on

You don’t answer, yet you are so daunting in your presence.

Why does it have to be this way and never that?

Am a just a rat caught in a trap with the only way to escape being release of my soul?

This same thing has happened time after time, and I see no real purpose or rhyme in it.

Maybe I do. Maybe it is to reach you.

Ha, who am I fooling, perhaps I am the only fool.

Rather be wrong about you.

There is no real purpose, no rhyme, I have been hanging in this crazy place

I cannot free myself, nor do I want to really.

I feel torn apart, it is once again, in part,to my foolish heart.

Mws R




Waiting for so long with so much in between the wait, the blinks.

Trembling in anticipation but afraid to make final contact.

Just once she wanted the things she wished for.

That happily ever after she dreamed of.

Trudging through each day barely making sense of it all

Was she living in a dream or was she just that small?

Bartering for every second chance she ever had

Holding tight to what made her glad.

Restless was her soul and mind

She knew one day she would finally matter.

Or would she?

After all it was not her fault she was uprooted

Taken away from her heritage, her blood.

People acted as if she was not much

Just some burden that they really had to watch.

Her aspirations turned into dust when she was torn between an angering hearts rust.

Years went by as they still do

Couldn’t recall but only a few, when she let her soul and mind rest.

For she was constantly weeding out the un-important from the best.

Not that there was an over abundance of that.

Her “when” just got up one day and left her, it would seem

Because they are crumbled somewhere between real and her dreams.

Mws R


Beneath Me

Been here before…

There is nothing more

I struggle each time

You enter my troubled mind,

I fall only to see if you would come

It isn’t fun

I hate the circumstance and pretense

I often time feel so dense.

Beneath me it really is

To tie up all my love and time into this

Into something that really isn’t, is it?

I will walk with my head up not down

The only thing I will want is to really be found

Beneath me, or is it, to beg or plea

I just thought maybe you really loved me.

                                                                                                        Mws R



I hear , rain

There is a storm going on as I write this blog. It has lots of thunder, lightning, and rain, as most storms do. Usually I look at a storm in a more cautious way than I am tonight. Tonight, I am thankful for the rain. I have a garden that is drinking up all this rain, which in turn will benefit it and me, so that makes me thankful. Usually rain, storms keep me indoors wishing I was outside. I usually complain and go to unplugging my electronics that I hold dear, like my  computer, and my phone. I really get annoyed sometimes. If a storm is really bad, I often sit in worry over things I have outside or the “what if’s”, in terms of damage or being without power.

Much of a person’s life can be related to things in nature if you only look. I feel like storms are relative to a person’s struggles through out their life. Sometimes the “storms” a person has are simply a rough patch, perhaps a struggle, possibly a time with many downs instead of ups. I think of storms in relation to a person’s life as a sort of wake up call. To me storms are often things that come out of no where often times and they bring with them lots of noise, rain and sometimes strong winds, perhaps hail too. In their wake they leave broken trees, damaged buildings or damaged things. In our own life we have moments that feel like this too. It is possible for damage to happen that we cannot repair. Often times we lose something we really liked or loved. In life we often loose something that means something to us. In retrospect, it can be a good thing.  If you relate the rain, storm, to a person’s life, one might see it is often needed to help “us”/things grow.  Sometimes a person has to experience this. Although it is difficult to “weather” a storm in one’s life, it is not impossible. I have seen beautiful people come from experiencing the worst storms in their life.  I have also seen people who did not handle storms well. By not handling storms well they missed out on something that could have been phenomenal, much like a thunderstorm.

One thing I am still learning and have learnt from life, is that nothing should always be easy, convenient, or quiet. We should experience up’s and down’s and things that grab our attention as well as things that shakes us. To be human is not always easy, but there will be good times after bad, happy times after the sad, and hope after despair. Storms or not we will always have changes.

Time to embrace those changes or maybe look at them differently, perhaps!

Pieces from a torn heart



Hurt but never too tired to fight.  Drifting in this mindless game, afraid to let doubt enter my brain.

I hear all those voices that tell me to turn and walk away, but I’m too stubborn to do it that way.

 I have lots of love that keeps my heart strong.

Although there are pieces scattered from the wrong that has damaged my heart.

I cry the kind of tears that lets out pain.

I also  have tears that keep the rest of me sane.

Being me has paid a toll for sure. I can feel it when I second guess my self, and when I am alone to think.

Pieces of a torn heart will never again be whole but somewhere, some way I manage to keep my soul.

Whispers fill my mind with doubt, snaps from conversations with those I love remind me of how little I matter at times.

It is hard to take but I somehow mange to let it leave my consciousness so I can continue, yet again.

I fall sometimes so hard, I swear I am forever broken.  Guess what though? I seem to rise despite the hurt from it all.

As if I was a rubber band, I snap back and look in place where I belong.

 Is it me or does everyone have some sort of torn heart? I know I am not the only one whose pieces are all out of sorts.

The days I live through seem to have a beginning and an end to them, yet I repeat moments in my life over, and over again.

Almost like a clown working for another’s applause or attention, I find myself saying things and doing things I thought I had forgotten how to.

It seems I have a mechanism that I use to hold my heart’s pieces together.

It is one that hold’s tightly to the slightest of joys, the weakest of effort, and the humbling of pride for even a milli- second. It is when I need to and with whomever, or whatever is my focus. 

If you have pieces of a torn heart, do you find something quick enough to grab all them and hold them in place? Or do you take your time and give each piece attention needed for as long as it takes to get them put back right? I guess that would be a matter of personal choice.

I would think that if you can you will try to fix the cracks or tears or at least you would do the best job to make it whole again, despite the time it takes or the effort you have to put forth. As so you should.

 Hearts were made to take the worst but give the best. They are special. If you are lucky enough for someone to give you theirs, try and take good care of it. If it gets torn and damaged it will never truly be the same.