My Life is a Kaleidoscope-Adoption and Putting the Fragments Back Together.

Fragmented moments really. That's what I mean by kaleidoscope. From childhood until now, my life has always been in pieces. Not that I'm upset about that, because I feel that all of those fragments have come together to help mold me into the woman I am today.

Let's take a step back for a moment, okay? Back to 1986 when I made my debut in this world.

My biological father was in the Army, stationed in Germany, my biological mother was a teen living in Germany. They met, fell in love, found out she was pregnant, got married...lived happily ever after.

Okay, the last part was a lie. They were both young, neither ready for such a committed relationship. Nobody told them just how hard life was as an adult, not to mention an adult with a family, a child...it was too much. Without going into too much detail, I'll sum it up with this: Not every whirlwind romance ends like a Disney movie. Not everyone lives happily ever after.

My grandparents on my Dad's side ended up adopting me and they became my parents. My Momma and Daddy. The two people who would've done anything for me..no matter what it cost them. They loved me unconditionally and looked at me as their own child. I was never their granddaughter, only their daughter.

Fragments.

I remember bits and pieces. The court house on the day of my adoption when the paperwork was finalized, I can't remember my exact age, but I was around 6 or so, I think. My life has always been colorful, most likely because of how eccentric I tend to be. I love colors and my imagination is as vivid as the colors that I love. My thoughts and memories are also vivid, and at times I have to wonder if it was my imagination distorting my memories, through the eyes of a child, my thoughts tend to vary from things I've been told. I suppose we all go through that at some point or another, but more often than not I feel that I'll never know the full extent of the truth. Perhaps that is for the best.

More fragments. My biological Dad always lived nearby, but our relationship was tumultuous. It was great when things were working out well between us, but as I got older (my teen years were rough) we distanced ourselves from one another. I take as much fault as I place blame for that and I can only hope that it will be repaired one day. I love my Dad, it's just hard to vocalize that. So many years of misunderstanding adds up and makes things difficult. Where do you begin? How do you repair something that you spent most of your life believing was irreparable?

 I have lots of good memories as well. Some of my favorite were simple, being held up as high as his arms could reach as he pretended to throw me into the sky, or put me on a tree branch high above the ground. Hanging out at his house, watching tv and just being together. His goofy cockerspaniel dog jumping at a mirror as he freaked out on his own reflection. I remember trips taken to amusement parks, his wedding to the love of his life and the woman that has changed him for the better. I still have the ring with the angels that they gave me on their wedding day. So many memories. Some good, some bad. The bad ones are more vivid. That tends to be the way life works, right? Those fights as a teenager when I thought he didn't know anything. Tears were shed, angry words exchanged. Those moments I wish I could erase, take them back. Make it as if they never happened. It came from a place of love, doing what he thought was best. Isn't that what every parent strives to do?

My birth mother, the unknown portion of my life that I desired to know more than anything. At 18 I took off to Alaska to visit her and my sisters. It was great for a while, but then it went horribly wrong and was heartbreaking. Every angry/hurt/bitter emotion that I could muster up was unleashed upon her in a fury of regretful words. It was bound to happen, but I wasn't ready for that moment and it left a sour taste in my mouth. I thought she'd hate me. That she'd be happy I wasn't her problem. But she waited, I'm sure it was excruciating to do so, but she seemed to have this understanding that I had no clue about. 

My grandparents were my constant, Momma and Daddy were and always will be my parents. Adoption or not, they raised me. They are my foundation. There were hard times there too, but nobody is perfect. They did what they could to raise me to the best of their ability. I was difficult. For years I felt I was damaged. Why didn't my parents want me? Why was I the only person in my class to have older parents? While everyone else was going on vacations with their families, I mostly got my vacation fix from summer camps that I got to choose. I was fine with that, but at times I was envious of those around me who went on adventures across the country or to other countries with their parents. I knew what I had and I was grateful to them for everything, even if I didn't always show it.

I wanted more than the small town I grew up in. I wanted out. I followed in my biological parents footsteps. I moved to Germany after marrying my first husband at 19. I soon became pregnant with our son. It was never meant to be. It failed and all I could think was, "I'm my parents, history is repeating itself." I felt like a failure and was bitter for a while over that.

More fragments. This time the memories are dark and marred with negativity. The one sliver of happiness was my son and I think he's what kept me going.

Fast forward a bit to my saving grace. My husband and my children. One with him and two I gained by falling in love with him, he completed my family that at the moment was just my first son and I. This will be a blog for another time, perhaps. But these kids and this man who I call my soul mate truly changed my perspective on life in general and saved me from myself.

You see, it took becoming a mother to finally understand. The thoughts I've had for years now, since motherhood first began, have swirled in my mind and brought with them understanding. I never thought I'd be capable of this amount of understanding and acceptance. Not when it came to my own life and the people who were key players in who I've become as a woman. At 29 years old, I feel that I've gained a true idea of what love is about. You forgive and you move on, you allow time to heal wounds and you look to the future.

My Momma passed away four years ago and it was one of the most difficult times in my life. It felt like without her my family fell apart. She was the glue that held us together and without her we went our separate ways and became content with that level of distance. I dealt with it, taking comfort in knowing that my husband and kids were always there for me. Out of sight out of mind, so to speak.

Then, she came back into my life. My birth mother. The one woman who was more of an enigma than anything else. I wanted to know her, to call her Mom. To have a relationship with her like my sisters do. But I was scared. I felt guilty. How can I have two mothers? How can I possibly love them both?

Easily. Once I let my guard down and accepted the fact that I'm adopted and my heart is big enough to love everyone in my life, unhindered, if only I give it a chance. It took me my entire existence on this earth to come to that realization.

Slowly our relationship over the course of the last year has been growing, long conversations on the phone. "Liking" updates on Facebook. Laughs, tears, frustrations...we're so much alike. I look like her, my Momma always told me that. We all look like her. My sisters and I. There's 5 of us total and it's obvious that we're sisters. I've gained relationships with both my Mom and my sisters. Something I never thought would happen. More fragments and colors to add to my kaleidoscope. Beautiful colors that help complete my life.

My husband has a wonderful family that has accepted me as part of their inner circle. They've stepped in, especially my Mother in law, as being a constant in my life. But now I have this part of my family that is not only enriching my life but also the lives of my children. I bring into this relationship, three grandmothers, My Momma and Mom, and a step-grandmother (my biological Dad's wife). I also have other women who I consider to be like motherly figures for various reasons and they just add to the chaotic mix that is my life.

My Mom can never replace my Momma, but that's okay. I'm completely fine with that. However, she can add new memories and hopefully those new memories will repair some of those old wounds that haunt my inner child.

This week, I will embark on what has been dubbed "An epic road trip" from Florida to South Dakota with my birth mother, Patty. Never in my life could I have predicted this happening. It's stirred up a mixture of emotions and thoughts, so much so that I needed to write. Writing is my outlet and I needed to pour my thoughts out. This isn't a bad thing. Not in the least. It's the most amazing thing to happen for my family and I. This is the trip that will drive us into a totally new beginning in our lives. A beginning that I've prayed and begged God for, for so long. It's a daydream in a sense. Is this real? No seriously..is this really happening? I've needed this. She's needed this. WE have needed this for years.

So there's that. I could write so much more but I think this is good for now. A cleansing of sorts.

When you look into a kaleidoscope there are so many colors, some bright, some dim. Those colors are cut into a variety of shapes. Upon first inspection those fragmented colors are just kind of strewn about. You hold it up to the light and you see just how beautiful those colors are. When you turn the kaleidoscope those colors begin to work together to create a beautiful abstract tapestry. It's only when all the key components work together that the true beauty comes into view.

Life is beautiful, isn't it? 

I Lost Myself to Motherhood.

When my first child was born,  I was terrified. Being two months shy of my 19th birthday I was practically a kid myself. I was married and thought I was ready for motherhood but you're never truly ready for it. I know some people might disagree and say, "I was ready when I had my child! I was prepared!" But that's a lie. You are never fully ready to be a mother.

I remember how I felt the first moment I held my son as I looked down at his swollen, little, pink face. I was scared. Don't get me wrong I was happy too, but I thought to myself, "Oh, my God...this little, pink, blob of cuteness..his survival in this world is dependent on...me."

Maternal instincts kicked in but they were primitive at best. Feed, change, coddle...rinse repeat. There were times when he cried, his screechy voice piercing my eardrums and breaking my heart because I couldn't console him. I learned that was gas.

There were other times, especially when he started eating "big boy" food that I would freak out because the color of his poop wasn't normal. I learned that food dye in fruit loops makes baby poop resemble stinky rainbows.

I watched as this little being started to crawl on his own...then to walk. I became completely obsessed with making sure that no harm could come to him. My life was consumed with his safety. My life was consumed with making him happy. My life was absolutely consumed with everything about him. It didn't help the fact that I felt like he was all I had because this was the time period in which my first marriage dissolved. Some things are just not meant to be and when you are young you don't always listen to those who know better.

I lost myself to motherhood.

When I became a mother of multiple children I lost myself even further. My life revolved around my children and when it wasn't all about them, I was trying to stay sane. I had lost my identity. I only thought of myself as a wife and mother. I lived for my family but I had no identity outside of motherhood.

Now, some of you might be thinking to yourself, "Why is that so bad? You are a mother. Your life should be about your family. How can you be so selfish?" If you're thinking those things then you obviously aren't a mother or you're telling lies to yourself.

Being a mother is a beautiful gift and something I wouldn't change for the world, but when I say I lost myself, I truly mean it. I lost who I was and became only a mother. I couldn't define myself in any other way other than, "I'm a mother of four."

You may still be wondering why that's a bad thing and that's fine...keep reading and hopefully you'll get my point sooner or later.

It's okay to identify yourself as a mother, but that's just one of many hats you wear. Becoming a mother causes you to change your entire perspective on life. You have to carry yourself differently. At times it even holds a stigma and if you don't fit a certain mold then people judge you.

My first run in with judgmental people was when I went into a grocery store with all of the kids. I had a woman ask me if those were my siblings. She then proceeded to scoff at me when I told her that they were all my children. I have also had people say, "how old are you?" after they ask me how old my oldest child is. I can almost see the wheels turning in their head as they count down to how old they think I was when I had my first child.

Nobody asks if they're my step child, they just assume that I was a teen mother. I usually see mixed expressions at this revelation from anything to a look of pity to a look of disgust. This used to really bother me, but now I take it with a grain of salt because I know the truth and that's all that matters to me.

In the earlier years of my relationship with my second/current husband I simply saw myself as his girlfriend and the wife of our children. Together we had a blended family and I was happy. The new relationship, the happiness that I felt once again, renewed who I was. I became Kim again. I put my own needs first but was still able to do so while being a mother at the same time. That was the first time I realized that motherhood didn't define who I am.

But it didn't last...I lost myself to motherhood again. I had a slight taste of freedom but let it slip through my fingers.

"But Kim, why would you want to be free from motherhood?"

Let me explain this so that you understand what I'm saying. I did not want freedom from motherhood in the least...but I wanted to not be completely defined by motherhood. I wanted to show my kids that you can be more than a mom. You can have a career and do things for yourself and still be an awesome mom but also have your own things going on at the same time. I wanted to show my kids that it's okay for mom to have a life separate from being a parent.

Yes, I am a mother. I am a wife. First and foremost, my husband and my children are the most important people in my life. I would die for them. I would do whatever it takes to make them happy...and my life is consumed (in the best ways possible) with being a wife and mother.

But, at the end of the day, in order to keep your sanity and be able to function like a normal person you cannot forget to take care of yourself. In my case, I needed to learn how to take care of Kim. I needed to nurture my needs some too. As a mother you put everyone before yourself. That is part of our primitive maternal instincts.

Even in the littlest moments you always put your family first. From meals to sleep...you always end up putting everyone else before yourself. If I make a meal I usually always make my plate last. I serve my kids and husband first, then once they're all settled I serve myself. If I want to take a bubble bath, everyone else showers/bathes first then I grab a book and hop in the tub..usually to find that the hot water has been used or is very limited.

I go to sleep, almost always, last. I make sure that the kids are in bed and sleeping before my head hits the pillow. Every single noise in the house wakes me up so I usually don't sleep soundly unless I'm absolutely exhausted. I watch TV shows or movies that I wouldn't watch normally to make my kids happy. I sacrifice for my family and I would change absolutely nothing about that.

However, I have learned in the last few years to do things for me that make me happy too. Don't get my wrong, when my kids and husband are happy I am happy. There are some things that I like to do for me though, and it took me years to realize that it is okay to do things for myself.

It doesn't make me a bad mom. I'm not being selfish. I'm not depriving my family of something just because I go off on my own to do something just for me. More often than not I'd much rather share every happy moment in my life with my family, but sometimes it's okay to have a break. It's okay to sneak away and indulge in something that's not always "kid friendly" such as a glass of wine or and R-rated movie. 

I really started to find myself again when I decided to start working and to go to college. That gave me a more versatile identity and allowed me to be a little more independent. Prior to exploring these options my identity was dependent on my husband and kids. I was able make myself more well-rounded by getting a job and pursuing a college education. It's important to have other areas in your life in which you excel other than motherhood because as your children get older and less dependent on you, you begin to feel empty.

You know that those little people in your life are dependent on your for their every need but it's not until they grow up that you realize you are equally as dependent on them. If you don't have other things to fill the void that they leave as they start growing up and that dependency lessens then you are left wondering what to do with yourself.

I recently went on a trip to Vegas where I saw Britney Spears in concert, just my best girl friend and I. I missed my husband and kids terribly, but this was the first vacation I had EVER had without them. I needed some 'me' time and that was a memorable trip with a great friend. There were many things that I did where I thought, "Oh, my husband/child would've loved to seen that!" or "Awe, I bet my husband/kid would've enjoyed this.." but it was still nice to do something for myself.

I'm 28 now. I have been a mother for every bit of my 20's and it has taken me nearly all of it to realize that I had lost myself to motherhood and just recently began to find who I am once again. Mother is one of many titles that I proudly wear. I am a wife, mother, sister/cousin/aunt/niece, student, certified nursing assistant, cook, counselor, friend, avid reader, aspiring writer, and amateur photographer. I've got my head in the clouds, my nose in the books, one ear to the phone and the other ear listening to my children, all the while making dinner at the same time.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with having 'me' time and doing things that I love. I mean, there are things that I love doing that my family probably wouldn't like anyway. I love to go out into nature for hours on end with a good book and a camera. I love reading and taking pictures. I love writing poetry and stories. I love yoga (though I haven't done it in a long time). I like certain bands and music that I know my husband and kids probably wouldn't like. There are certain things that are fitting of my personality but not necessarily something my husband or kids would want to do. It's okay for me to go off on my own and enjoy those things without them. It doesn't mean I love them any less, it just means that I'm finding a way to enjoy all the things I love.

Motherhood is about balance but I think in order to find the proper balance you must be able to nurture your family and yourself. By nurturing yourself it allows you to find happiness in all areas of your life and, in my opinion, it makes you a much better mother.

I remember the time I lost myself to motherhood, but I remember even more how I found myself again. 

I'm addicted...

...to music. 

I had you going there for a moment, huh? You thought I was going to confess some deep, dark, secret addiction in which you would get to silently judge me from behind the comfort of the screen in which you're hidden. It's okay, I forgive you. 

Seriously, I am addicted to music. Without music, my world would be consumed with the chaos of my every day life. Yes, I know my blog is titled, "The Beautiful Chaos of Motherhood and Life..." I'm aware of the irony of my statement. I don't mean to say that chaos is bad in this sense, but I know that music helps me to better balance it all.

Whether I'm blogging, doing homework, cooking, cleaning, or playing outside with the kids I typically always have music playing in the background. I feel that listening to music helps me concentrate better on the task I am performing. That could mean that I have some underlying ADD/ADHD tendencies that I've yet to address in my 28 years of life. Hmm...nevertheless music is my addiction. 

I listen to a variety of music which is usually dependent on my mood and the task I'm trying to complete. For example, I've found that if I'm blogging I can listen to a variety of things and the style doesn't really matter. But when I'm doing homework I prefer to listen to music that lacks words because it allows me to better concentrate. 

I get pickier when it comes to reading a book. It doesn't matter if I'm reading for pure enjoyment or if I'm editing a book, I try to match the music to the scene that I'm reading. I do the same when I'm writing. Adding mood music really helps me to get into the mind of the characters and I feel that some of my best writing occurs when music is my constant companion. 

When people ask me what my favorite genre of music is, it's really hard for me to explain it. I use the word eclectic quite often because that's the only way to truly describe my taste in music. It varies, as I mentioned previously in this blog. I've gone to such a mix of concerts that it's almost comical but I feel that it makes me well-rounded. 

The first concert I ever went to was Dwight Yoakam. Yes. Mr. Yoakam at Cumberland Gap, Kentucky. I was about 8 or 9 and we had went there on a family outing. I actually was able to meet him and talk to him. I thought it was the coolest thing..ever. I still look back at that memory fondly.

I went to many concert events when I was a teenager with my youth group from my childhood church. Even though it's not necessarily my style of music any longer, I still enjoyed myself at the time and listen to that genre of music on occasion when I want to hear a specific song.

In more recent years, I've seen Fly Leaf, In This Moment, Marilyn Manson, Rob Zombie, Taylor Swift, Ed Sheeran, and Britney Spears. Now, let that last sentence really sink in and think about those artists individually. I'm pretty sure I can imagine your facial expression and that humors me slightly. Eclectic, right? 

What I've been listening to as I write this blog post is more of the country variety. Hunter Hayes, Taylor Swift, Luke Bryan, Carrie Underwood...etc. No particular reason other than I wanted to hear "Blown Away" and it snowballed from there. 

What draws me to music is not the genre but more so what I feel when I listen to it. If it evokes emotion or makes me feel good...then I'll listen to it. Sounds like a drug, right? If it feels good, do it?
I'll admit it, I am absolutely 100% addicted to music. It makes me feel good, so I'm definitely going to do (listen to) it. 

Do I need rehab for this? Nah. I'll continue to get my musically induced high as I float through life on lyrics, notes, and catchy hooks.

My kids also love and appreciate music. They've all been acutely aware of my love for music since before they could talk. If there's anything I've done flawlessly as a parent, I know it has been introducing them to a variety of music while nurturing their own personal preferences. 

Music is life.  

How do you feel about music? What's your favorite genre or do you listen to whatever feels right?  Do you have songs capable of inducing memories in which you feel like you're reliving that moment the second you hear the first note?