Haunted by the inevitable

At some point, we are all going to die.

Not like this is ground breaking news that we all didn't realize before, but it's a fact I never really focused on until becoming a mom. Maybe it's because before starting a family, I really didn't care if I met my demise anytime soon. Maybe it's because I feel like I now have something to lose. Whatever the case, I feel like I'm constantly haunted by the inevitable.

Now that my boys are growing a little bit older, my husband and I have more freedom to go out on our own leaving them behind with a sitter. We are enjoying date nights at concerts at The Aggie and Mishawaka and have even started to do some overnight stays at hotels in Denver. The freedom to enjoy these moments with my husband is amazing. Long gone are the days of being home-bound and bored with limits and restrictions that revolve around diaper changes, nap schedules and feeding regimens. Through time, the shackles of babyhood have been broken, leaving us to run free.

On our last kid-free adventure, we drove up to The Mish with friends for a concert. Music blaring, friends laughing, the warm wind blowing through our hair as we rode the twists and turns of the road hugging the beautiful Poudre River while driving up the canyon. Our kids at home with the sitter and safely tucked in their beds, I couldn't help but think how dangerous this trip was. At a moments notice, we could be in a head-on collision, swerve off the road and into the river, or a true reality, hit a deer.

My biggest fear is not knowing what would happen to my kids if both my husband and I were to die at the same time.

Most families are fairly normal. When you have your first baby, one of the most important steps in becoming a parent is drawing up a Will, laying out a plan of care for your children if you should expire earlier than you hoped. Normal families have Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, or some trusted adults named to take over and keep your kids safe. We do not. Without going into a long list of specifics, there is nobody I trust enough with my kids if I should die.

This fact recently hit me like a ton of bricks a few weeks ago after reading the news story in The Coloradoan. The one about the parents who made some very poor decisions, speeding and driving drunk down Lemay, only to end up in a fatal and gory car accident at the insurance office building. They left behind children with no plans for their care. Friends and family rallied to raise money to take care of the mourning children and their future was uncertain.

I can't even begin to explain how disturbing this was to me. Not that my husband and I make stupid decisions like speeding while driving drunk, but life is unpredictable. Anything can happen at any time. My boys could easily be in the same situation, parent-less and bouncing from house to house, or in foster care, while people manage the mess of the aftermath.

These thoughts are often buried deep within the halls of my mind, but every so often a door is opened and I'm tormented by what has surfaced. I don't care about an afterlife, meeting a maker or simply returning to dust. I care immensely about what happens to my children after I'm gone. And until they are able to care for themselves, I will always be haunted by the inevitable.

Kristin Mastre

I guess dates aren't just for married couples

My husband and I have been married for 10 years. In those 10 years, we've learned that relationships take a lot of work. A lot of CONSTANT work. We are always working on our communication, always trying to remember to be considerate of each others feelings and trying to avoid the ruts we've fallen into in the past. Sometimes are aren't very successful and have to work even harder on getting our relationship back on track. We continually work on this together as a team.

While I've come to realize that our marriage will always be a work in progress, I never realized the same principles apply to parenthood.

I've been a mom for almost 4 years and this weekend it hit me like a ton of bricks that The Preschooler and I are in a rut. For quite some time now, his contentious antics and my inability to handle it with patience and grace has caused a rift between us. Being a parent is so much more difficult than being married because as a parent, you are essentially working on this relationship alone.

After a weekend of constant battling and button pushing, my husband ordered that The Preschooler and I go out to a movie together for some quality bonding time alone. He stated that since The Baby has been born almost 10 months ago, The Preschooler and I have not spent any special time together. This dose of reality made me feel like a completely crappy mom. Here we had been stuck in the rut of day to day routines, spending every hour of the day together, and it never occurred to me that we were drifting apart. But we were. We are. He's not even 4 years old yet and it's a heartbreaking level of awareness to see where we are.

So away we went. We went to a movie together where I didn't reprimand him for getting up and down from his seat a million times (only when he tried to pick up crap from the floor). I didn't limit the amount of popcorn he ate and we sat together enjoying his movie about dinosaurs. We went to the toy store afterward and I bought him a new Matchbox car. It was a few hours without having to raise my voice, repeat myself or threaten time-out. It was refreshing and fun.

We came back home and within minutes were right back to where we started before our movie date. My heart sank.

This is when I was cognizant of the perpetual effort it's going to take on my part. Much like in my marriage where at one time we forced each other to sit down at night and have a conversation, it's going to take the same kind of work to shorten the gap in our parent/child relationship. And I have to do this alone, without expecting any change on his part, but hope that my redirection influences a positive change from him as well (like better listen skills and being more respectful).

Who knew that dates aren't just for married couples.

Kristin