In sweet remembrance...

Today was an incredibly emotional day for me. Like most every American, I roll over in bed and scroll Facebook for a few minutes. I may have read 4 posts before I saw the one that was clearly very sad news. While reading the comments my heart fell thru the boxes springs. I was so overwhelmed with sorrow for a family I barely knew. I grew up with the man, but his family I hadn't seen in years. Their little girl had passed away.

Yes, she had health issues. She'd had 2 heart transplants, but I didn't know all the details. What I did know is less than a month ago I was admiring the pictures of them on vacation, and then today she was gone.

The harsh reality of that started to rattle me. Truth be told, I cannot imagine what they are feeling right now. I don't want to. The thought of spending one day on this earth without one of my children is an unbearable thought to say the very least. The seconds seemed to drag on for minutes as the images flashed through my mind. Mother's aren't designed to bury their babies.

As the day went on, I shed more  than I believe to be normal, but I'm OK with that. I just kept looking at the pictures of my sweet tiny humans on my desk and thinking what in earth I'd  ever do. I'm very thankful that my children have always been relatively  healthy. The biggest decision I had to make was signing the forms to have a bone reset. And here this precious family was, having already had to make the choice of life or death for their child. They had to weigh quality of life, religious beliefs, family values, everything. Their worlds had been torn apart countless times. I felt guilty for ever complaining.

They crawled into bed that last evening with every intention of breakfast the next morning, thanksgiving this week, Christmas next month. They had a little girl, and I am certain they planned to always have her. But, instead they left a hospital without her. They'll have to pick out that tiny coffin. They'll listen to the hymns that will cut their souls in half. They'll hug countless people, hear thousands of times how sorry we all are, and listen to how she is resting at peace, but none of this will mend the pain. Not one condolence will bring back the regret of not reading one more bedtime story, or cuddling for 5 more minutes.

Lord, may we ever remember that life is fleeting. May we never take for granted the little things. Yes, we need to raise these precious things to be good humans, but every now and then may we splash in the puddles, get a little dirty, eat dessert first and camp out in the living room. May we hold them a little tighter, a few seconds longer, and be a tad softer. Lord, put your comforting hand in this family's life. Ease their suffering, I pray. Amen.

Memory Lane

I took a stroll down memory lane this week, and by stroll I mean I drove thru my home town. After nearly 15 years of being gone, so much has changed, and yet, so much is still exactly the same. Everybody still knows everybody. The square is still the center of everything, and it's still the kind of town every kid dies to get away from but ends up missing when they're gone.

The memories washed over me like a summer rain, while the emotions hit me like a hurricane. I remember growing up just waiting for the day to move away. Now as I sit in the suburbs and listen to the hustle and bustle around me, and I'd love nothing more than the house with 5 acres in the middle of nothing to call my home.

I miss the Friday night lights and low roar coming from the football stadium, waking up on Saturday morning to see which friend's house got toilet papered, running in to at least 3 people you know every where you went, watching the rows of corn as you drive past, and the dust rolling across the field as they harvest the crops.  All the things I despised then, but I'd love to have now.

My family stayed about 5 years after I left. The last real memory from there was my sweet tiny 2 year old girl running after my sister's van as they drove away for the last time. I've never cried so hard in my life. You'd have thought someone died. Looking back something did die that day; a past time, a life time, my childhood. It was all over. I've been back many times since that day, but that moment is forever stamps in time. That was when home moved away.

It's funny how all I wanted growing up was to get away. I'd give anything to go back now. Getting stuck behind a tractor wouldn't be so bothersome, because it's good to just slow down. This world is in such a hurry. We are all rushing to the next event. It was absolutely amazing to go somewhere, where time seemed to have stood still. I guess for years I've been searching for home, not realizing the people in that van were my home. The house we lived in still stands, but the structure hooks no value. Is the love we shared that cake its weight in gold.

The unwritten chapter of "what to expect..."

As I stared at my 1 day shy of 2 year old boy’s face this morning, I realized they left out a chapter of “what to expect when you’re expecting”, and they certainly left out a few of the toddler year version.  I think if they’d written these portions of the book, birth rates would plummet.

 
No one shares the real story until after you’ve had the baby.  That’s when they sit around sharing the horrors thru their eyes.  Up until then the worst thing anyone ever tells you is how far away from the hospital they were when they went into labor.  Trust me. Delivering the baby on the side of the freeway in the back of the van is miniscule on the grand scale of parenthood.  

This is where I will put the disclaimer in.  I will tell you this is not for the weak at heart.  This story is not for those on the fence about having kids, and it’s not for the dads why don’t want to remember. It’s a tad bit graphic, real, but still light hearted.  But I reiterate, it’s REAL.

Having children is a joyous event.  Not all women are maternal, but for me having kids made me feel complete, and I just wanted more.  Even now, as crazy as that sounds I would have another if possible. I love babies, it’s the attitude that follows I was ill prepared for.

We go through 9 months of misery, and yes, many will criticize me for saying that, but I hated every day I was pregnant.  From being sick, tired, nauseated, fat, miserable, irritable, cranky, ugly, having acne, weird cravings, gas, the whole nine yards, it was not fun for me.  They were each worth it, but I did not under any circumstances enjoy being pregnant.  What they failed to communicate was that that’s the easy part.  

They tell you in the book that you may have “a little extra weight” after delivering the baby, and “this goes away after a few weeks.”  Um, at what point do we decide to share with these ladies that this may never go away?!  First, it’s not a little extra weight.  It’s at least 10 pounds of what feels like loose, cookie dough coated in laundry soap jiggling in plastic wrap.  Veteran moms call this the jelly belly.  Second, you may very well have it 3 years down the road.  Just depends on if you work out. Or did your muscles split and you can’t work out without medical or surgical intervention?  

Child birth puts the “max” in maxi. No other time can I see a reason to wear a 6 inch wide by 30 inch long diaper with no straps, but we won’t go into the details there.  Just know it’s maximum discomfort.   

All of this I’m convinced is to prepare you mentally for the day when the terrible 2’s hit.  Yesterday all the preparation made sense.  Every struggle was getting me ready for this.

Imagine a little boy with bright blue eyes leaned over the arm of the chair staring at my drink.  He’d already drank his, and now he wanted mine. With each word there was a tiny hand that tapped my shoulder.

“Mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap)”

“Yes?”

“I want some.”

“No, you had yours. This is mine.”

“Whhhhyyyyyyy?”

“Well, because I said no.”

“Hmmmmmm….. mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap) mum mum (tap)”

“Whaaaaatt?!”

“I want some.”

“No, we just had this discussion. No.”

“But whhhhyyyyyyy?”

“Because I said so.”

And we began again.  This went on for several rounds, before I finally got up and left the room.  Kids are resilient, but no one tells you that you will have training before you get to the heavy weight rounds.  If these conversations didn’t happen, you’d snap the first time they threw themselves into the floor in the middle of the toy store and had a full out melt down.  You’d have a come apart as well. Instead, because you’ve prepared for this you gently grab your child’s arm, whisper his demise in his ear and pray he doesn’t call your bluff.

 
No one tells you that you will negotiate with terrorism for years. No one shares how your kids will beg for something and then have nothing to do with it once purchased. No one tells you about the naked Barbie phase of the toddler years.  Yes I said NAKED BARBIE PHASE.  It’s the time in life when your child must be accompanied into town with a naked Barbie, sometimes 3.  You’ve purchased tons of clothes, but none are ever found until years after the Barbie’s have disappeared.  Naked Barbie’s will haunt you in the bath tub, in your car, your yard, your bag, possibly your dreams.  There is the crayon in the pocket time as well.  Inevitably you will ruin an entire load of laundry, because you washed and subsequently dried a crayon.  You will wipe snot with your bare hand. You will accidentally stick your hand too far into the diaper and come up with “muddy” fingers.  There is vomit, urine, feces, ear wax, dead skin, finger nails, all this to deal with.  At least once a year your tiny human will  give you a near coronary experience by jumping off something too high, taking a massive tumble down a rigid and insurmountably hard surface, or ingesting a substance they should have known better than to touch but did it anyways.  

 
They’re kids. As I have stated before, they will take you to your breaking point.  It’s all a part of the process.  Once you reach the point when you can hear them cry and just nonchalantly turn and tend the mess, you’re not done.  You’ve just leveled up.  

When losing starts feeling like a win

We've all heard about Murphys law. If it can go wrong, it will. My life is a perfect example of that. I know I've touched on this before, but I'm going to do it again.

One of my best friends in this world always tells me "Liz I just don't understand how you do it. Your life is so hard!"

What's so hard about it? I mean aside from the obvious, I just couldn't figure it out....until I really started to think. Truth is, I have the worst luck. I promise, if I'm running late, every single light will be red.  We run out of groceries every time I have 4 cranky kids in the car on a Friday afternoon. My favorite wine will be sold out on the worst day of the week, because let's face it. Its only sold in 3 stores. Its the most expensive one, and no one has ever heard of it. Why wouldn't someone buy it in bulk?  That's when I started to get it.

There's another me out there that didn't hit that last red light...or ran it. And seeing that last bottle on the shelf was like a winning lottery ticket! She didn't have her kids with her today. She probably got into the store just before the rush hit. And she was WINNING today.

She didn't have a kid pitch a fit for the last yogurt this morning, when it was all she wanted for breakfast. She missed the client that cries every time they come into the office. To the rest of the world, it was just another day, but to her it was the best day. She had just enough hair spritz, just enough time to look great, just enough coffee to fill her cup, just the right fit in those new pants, just enough makeup to look perfect.  Yes, she ran out of all of these things, buy she had just enough for today, and missing the rush at the Walmart meant just enough time to replenish. On any other day, she's the biggest loser, but today she was winning.

For me, it wasn't that day. Ran out of coffee creamer yesterday, but I didn't remember it until after I made coffee. Had a kid refuse his breakfast because he wanted mine. He won. I went hungry. Every light was red. Every driver was slow. No one answered the phone. Everything got shuffled. Missed that goal by 1 sale. Walmart was jamming. Kids argued the entire way thru the store, and on the pasta aisle my 4 year old tossed all of my groceries into another persons cart while I was deciding on a sauce. (She probably questioned her sanity at the checkout, because she straight walked off with my crap) My 9 year old decided to play Tarzan at the register and nearly tore down the gum display. And the meltdown that came when the car seat that had been strapped in that same spot for a year, wasn't in his favorite seat was just exhausting. And the cherry on this peach of a day was our friend dropping by with a house warming gift.....that he drank without me.  Good thing I bought the $5 wine. After a while it went down pretty smooth. Just in time for me size 00 daughter to try on the dress I bought for me...and it fit her.

We celebrate the wins, because we are so used to losing.

The key

So, I work on insurance, and the question came up the other day of "who has a key to your house in the event of an emergency?" Well, as usual my mind began to wonder. Who does have a key? And what kind of emergency are we talking here? Like a I forgot to put diapers in the bag? I got locked out? Forgot to feed the dog? Hey can you check to see if my house is on fire? Like that wouldn't be obvious with the smoke rolling....

It was after questioning the reasoning that I started thinking of when folk did have keys, and I quickly realized why I haven't handed any out lately. 

In my apartment plenty of people had access. My sitter had a key so she could come and go. My best friend so she could borrow clothes or shower if she'd been out late. The maintenance staff also had one. What comes with a spare key tho? 

Well that my friends us the reason of this post. We are taught to give a key for emergencies, but in reality you're more likely to be walked in on while pooping by a friend than a tree falling in your living room. 

It happened so many times. Not the pooping part, but I swear there was an alert system that sent a signal every time I stepped in the shower. Her first day on the job, my sitter walked in on me. My only thoughts were "please don't quit!"  A few weeks later she did it again. And a few weeks after that, her boyfriend did. 

I can't think of a single instance where I had an emergency in need of someone going in while I was out. But if it were a contest to see how many times I could walk out of the shower as someone spontaneously opened the door, I'd totally win! 

Fake it till you make it

Tonight I experienced something I've read about and hoped for for years. Don't misunderstand, I know it was fake. I know you know it was fake. I know you know I knew it was fake, but I appreciated it none the less. 

We all read the stories about exes who get along for the sake of the kids. Up until tonight we were just not that family, but tonight we hit a milestone. We attended the same event. We sat at the same table. We shared a folder and exchanged the papers so that we each got to read the information. Nothing negative was shared. No ugliness peeking thru. I'll admit I had my reservations. I'm certain my distrust was obvious. I was quiet and wondered nonstop what I had missed. What was going on? Why were you being nice? And then I concluded, because they don't need to see it. These innocent teachers and parents weren't part of this. 

I have no idea what has been shared about me. I often wonder, but I can't focus on that. Tonight we were the blended family we have always supposed to be. For that, I can't be anything but thankful. I truly believe if our children had been present, they would've been proud. It would've been easy for them to shift between us and not feel conflicted. 

I heard you pause when you introduced me as "mom." I was grateful none the less, and I'm certain I was the only one who noticed. I stayed a little after the rest of the parents to ask if I could purchase an additional yearbook, but I did not explain why. I did not want to draw attention to our situation, but merely have a copy to enjoy. 

I've come to see the other side of parenting. The step side. It isn't always easy. There's an enormous amount of shoveling that goes into it. I appreciate the part you play in those tiny humans lives. While I don't agree with many things that have come to be, I haven't lost hope that we can level out. Somehow, I still believe we can all get along and perform our portions with as little impact on the kids as possible. It is possible. This evening was proof of that. 

I already said I knew you were faking. I know you don't like me. You know that is mutual, but we are capable of being civil. We most definitely can put our differences aside and love our babies to the fullest. We aren't family, but we are their family, and we can give them that normalcy. Thank you, for being civil. Thank you for not causing a scene, for making me feel a part of things again, and mostly for giving me hope for our future. So in the future, may we fake it till we make it. 

I may not need you, but I'll always want you here.

A year ago today, the man of my dreams walked thru my door. He was already in my life. He already had a place in my heart. He was my friend. We'd hung out before, watched football games, laughed with friends and even been on double dates. This meeting was different. We were both single for the first time in a while. I was hesitant to spend time together, because the opinions of others would be formed. We would inevitably get the reputation of something was going on before. 

We got the rep. We've endured the rumors. We've lost "friends" over our relationship,  and I use that term loosely. Of the many people who probably did have affairs before they got together, we truly didn't. We were just friends. 

Even after this night, we continued to be "just friends." We didn't hide, but we did attempt a low profile. The guilt ate at both of us. We nearly parted ways several times, something kept drawing us back in. It was as if the universe was reminding us how short this life is. Life is fleeting, and when you find the one who makes you laugh, willing to lose sleep, to put anything in the line, they're worth keeping. 

I'm so glad he walked in to my life, muddy boots and messy, he's worth it. We've had our ups and downs. We've had our trials. We've lost our way a time or two and questioned why we even try. We are polar opposites. We butt heads daily, but there's no one I'd rather share this life with than him. 

We are the 1% who cuddle all night long. I miss him instantly when he walks away. His happiness is more important than my own, and I believe the same applies on his part. I've said too many times to count, "I don't need him, but I want him here. I can live without him, but I don't want to." 

To his parents, thank you. You've done a wonderful job raising an amazing man. To those who've supported us whole heartedly, I love you. You are the ones who've seen the love we have and are willing to hold our hands. To those who let him go, thank you even more. The cracks you left in his broken heart are more room for me to fill. I'm sorry it didn't work out, but I'm so grateful for the opportunity to love him. To those who left the cracks on my heart, thank you for teaching me what real love was. And to my sweet boo boo bear, I love you. I'm so glad you chose me. Thank you for standing by my side and loving me in my lightest and darkest hours. You are my favorite human, my best friend, my shooting star, and a dream come true. 

The hardest job on earth...

Parenting is so hard.  There should be a book given to teenagers when they decide to be sexually active describing the career path they're about to take. I'll write the first page. 

"Parenting- always hiring. Everyone qualifies, although not all will be successful or reach the same gratification. Hours are long, actually never ending. Appreciation will take at least 20 years of excruciating labor, even then you may not ever see it. The stress, anxiety, fears, sleep deprivation and resentment will last for at least a decade. Bathing, toileting, sleeping, cooking, and pretty much every other activity will come with an audience and usually a dozen questions. You will sacrifice nearly every piece of who you are. You will say things you never imagine, like 'don't lick the shopping cart. We always wear pants in public. Please don't poop in the yard!'  You will laugh and be thankful for each and every day you experience these horrors, but I promise, you will question your sanity...daily. "

That about sums it up. We don't get paid. In fact, we shell out thousands of dollars for sports to sit in unbearable heat, gaining hideous tan lines, to shout at an umpire and have a kid who is embarrassed that you arrived. We car pool our tiny humans everywhere, just to have them ask you to drop them off around the corner so their friends don't see. We shell out a small fortune for an education to be told they've decided to take a semester off and bar tend. 

We are disappointed a billion times over, but not in our kids. We disappoint ourselves. We failed at teaching respect. We said just walking away was the better option to violence, and when that sweet baby gets bullied you contemplate if violence really was the answer. The first swear word spoken from innocent lips will take your soul across the hot coals of hell, and you will regret the parental temper tantrum. 

See parenting doesn't come with a manual. It does, but no one reads it. It's the oldest person sitting at Christmas dinner. They'll tell you, but you won't listen. We all learn the hard way, and we stretch our nerves, budget and yoga pants to the last possible thread. 

We love our tiny humans, but man we often wonder "what the hell were we thinking?!" You're never prepared to have kids. You don't have enough money, patience or space, but somehow we always make a little room. When they grow up we sit and marvel. Only when they have children do we see our success. 

You're not a victim, you're just looking for attention

I read an article yesterday that made me want to vomit!! I can't imagine the person who wrote it to be very "wide lensed." The level of self absorption was so intense, I just saw her as a narcasist. It was then I was reminded that most of the world is like this. 

Well in the words of Dolly Pardon, "get off the cross honey, somebody needs the wood!" 

Stop playing the victim!! It's not cute, and while everyone who needs their safe place may entertain you, those of us who understand cause and effect just simply don't give a hoot! 

Life is hard! Your life hasn't ended up the way it is because of everyone else. You made choices every step of the way. My life sucks sometimes. There are a million things I'd like to change, but wishing won't help it. You know what does? Getting off your keester and working for it!! You can pray all day long, but the good lord isn't just gonna hand you your dreams on a silver platter. Go after what you want. You don't work, neither does he. Your significant other's ex doesn't like you? Aww so sad. Maybe there's a reason. Just maybe while he was swooning you, he was also telling her they were working it out. Stranger things have happened. Maybe you're not a nice person. Again, stranger things have happened. If you're not making enough money, go get a second job. Ask for a raise. Work harder! 

It's not everyone else's fault that things go wrong. Make better choices. Accept the ones you've made, and change the ones you don't like.

No one is going to thank you for the basics. Hell, it's rare enough to get a thank you for going above and beyond. Be grateful if you get acknowledgement, but don't expect it. Get off your "poor pitiful me" kick and just be happy. The world isn't going to make your life easier. That's just not how it works. 

You can gravel in your misery, or you can choose to get over yourself and move on. For the love of sweet tea, get over yourself. Live your life. Be happy. Stop looking for approval, we are all just trying to make it here. Either get in the race or get out of the way. 

When life goes so wrong, but so right

Read the title. How is that even possible? 

I know it's been a minute since I've posted. My regular readers have been chomping at the bit to find out what's going on. I won't go into a lot of detail, I will say this. Life is going so good-and I mean really good but soooooo bad at the same time. 

I started a new career. I am madly in love with the sig. He's shown me that even tho it seems crazy, some people love you, even when you have nothing to offer them but your company. His family is just as amazing, and every time I'm certain I have fallen from grace, they accept my every flaw as just a part of me. Our tiny humans are finally getting a grip on our new routine, and they're all just incredible kids. We laugh. We play. We live a sweet life, and I have never been happier. 

On the flip side of that, I have never been more miserable. After 6 months of semi peace, suddenly I was arrested for a violation for a crime I didn't commit. I have never been more humiliated in my life. I've never been in trouble. I've never done anything remotely wrong, and yet there I was being shackled while my ex's wife stood taking pictures. My picture was plastered all over the Internet, but worse, I was arrested in front of my kids. Finally comes the 5 court dates in under 30 of the upcoming days. Not to mention, my tires were slashed while I was there. As I said a few years ago. Just when I thought I'd seen the depths of hell, he shows me a new level. 

Despite everything that has ensued, I continue to pray for them. I believe in forgiveness, because the good lord forgives me every day. Life gets crazy. Sometimes there aren't enough words to describe everything that's taking place, but we press on. I will continue moving forward. The past has to let go of me eventually right? And I'll forgive. But for the record, my forgiveness should not be mistaken for ignorance. I know the truth. It will find a way to the light. I will be redeemed and my good name cleared. Y'all pray for us. 

You never know what you've got...til it's gone.

We've all heard the age old phrase "you never know what you've got, til it's gone."  How often do we really think about those words? On Facebook last week, I saw the news story about sad grandpa. It was sad. All I kept thinking was what I wouldn't give to visit my grand parents. I never knew my grandfathers, but I know my grandmothers were amazing women. I'd love to have one more family meal! And to see the picture of his grandkids when they finally showed up looking inconvenienced makes me want to shake them. 

I stand on my soap box and preach about letting the kids be little, playing with them, and just enjoying their childhood while they're still little. No one really hears me. Just the other day we were talking about why I cater to my three year old. He pouts that lip and flashes those baby blues, and I melt. His favorite phrase is "mumum, I just need you." I pick him up, scratch his back, read him stories, let him help me cook; he is my butthole baby. (For those who need an explanation, a butthole baby is one who follows so closely, that whenever I stop, his nose goes right into my butthole.) 

It was asked why I allow him to "need" me so much, and that's when it dawned on me. He needs me. He still needs me, and as long as he does, I'll let him. It's been longer than I can remember since my older two needed me. They don't climb in my lap and just want to be held anymore. I'm weird and old now. 

Again, I'd give anything for them to need me. I'm so proud of the people they're growing up to be. Nothing makes me happier than to see those tiny humans maturing into great people. Their budding personalities keep me in amazement. 

They're not tiny anymore, although they always will be to me. Altogether too soon they'll need me even less than they do now. Soon enough it'll be drivers licenses, college dorms, and I'm gonna stop there before I tear up. That 3 year old wanted to help me cook this evening, and despite the horrendous mess he made flipping burgers, I let him. I allowed him to stand by my side and help, because soon enough he won't want to. 

Appreciate the time you have. Call your parents. Visit your loved ones. Let those babies get dirty and make a mess. They won't always want or need your help, and before you know it, they'll be grown. 

God bless those tiny humans. They bring more joy to my soul than anything on this earth. 

Spring forward...more like a flop head first into the mud!

Daylight savings is supposed to be a good thing right? Oh it's wonderful....a week after it begins, in the afternoons when you're trying to wear your kids down so they actually sleep.  It's not fun the night of.  Not only do you lose an hour of sleep, but in our case, the universe smiles down and says "Hey, you see that one.  She's been a whole 2 days without a sleepness night.  Pretty sure she's got plans tomorrow too.  Let's play with her.  She's funny when she flips her lid!" And they laugh and laugh, and suddenly the ceiling caves in, a kid throws up, and another whines all night long.

Oh yea, that wasn't an exaggeration. That literally happened....2 nights in a row!!

It's rained here, like monsooned here, for almost a week. Fine and good. We need a new roof. Noted. The high winds and torrential rains created even more havoc. I walked into the bathroom and noticed a soaked roll of toilet paper on the counter.  My first thought was "these kids!" I thought someone had dropped it in the toilet and just fished it out and left it there. No, that wasn't the case.  The first practical joke was in the form of a steady drip down the exhaust fan in the bathroom....right into the jar holding my flat iron.  Sheer panic was the first reaction.  That flat iron and I have been through 10 years!! It took 100 different flat irons to find the perfect one! The images of it's funeral were flashing through my head, with me in the background hyperventilating. Onward.

We laid down Saturday evening. We went to bed early, because we got a little wild Friday and stayed up too late.  Kids were down by 8:30, and we were right behind em! Not 2 hours in, we hear "Daddy! I frew up!"  OH that's not cool! Sure enough, it was everywhere! Sheets stripped, bed changed, kid cleaned up. Ding!! Round 1 complete.  Back to sleep.

Another 2 hours went by of in and out of consciousness, when I hear an odd sound.  "It's outside. It's just raining" he said. No it wasn't.  Something was dripping in my closet! Lights on all around, and upon investigation it was dripping, just not in the closet.  It was dripping in the attic above the closet, but because the insulation was soaked, the sheet rock fell in.  AWESOME!!!! Nothing to be done that late.  I would just clean up in the morning and call the landlord.  Back to bed. Ding! Round 2 done. 

Maybe 30 minutes went by when the second round of "Wiz, I frew up again." Wait. What?! You never ask for my help! You only ever call dad! Why is it suddenly my turn?! Fine.  I'll go, because I have stated more than once when he decided to ask me for help, I'd drop everything and go.  So, I did. Thankfully not much eruption.  Clean kid, clean pillow, new blanket. Ding!! Round 3 complete.

My head didn't so much as hit the pillow, after I tripped over the 16 pairs of shoes I keep leaving at the foot of the bed when the whambulance came through.  Every parent should know exactly what this is.  It's not a cry.  It's not a whale. It is the annoying whine of a kid who has no clue what he wants. "Whaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh, whhhaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh...." You get the idea.  ALL. NIGHT. LONG. Nothing helped. Nothing soothed. And finally, I just gave up.  Good night.

6 am. The sun was shining through, and I was beyond exhausted, but I heard the slight moan of a tiny human, and I knew.  I knew that sound! That was the "I'm going to hurl, or maybe explode" moan.  If you think parents can't fly, wait until they hear that moan.  I launched across that room without touching the floor.  I soared around the corner, through the hall and across the second bedroom again, without touching much and with no sound.  That sweet little boy thought I was going to throw him, I snatched so fast. He was grabbing at the door frames as we soared together into the bathroom.  I meant he was going to hit the toilet with the spewage that time, if it killed me.  I was not cleaning up another round of sheets, clothes etc.  I don't do vomit! I could tell it scared him.  I don't think he'd ever seen his Wiz move that fast. All was good.  Calmed him down, no changes necessary, and I was determined to get at least another hour of sleep.  Ding...round 4 down, and my reserves were shot.

Aannndddd the whambulance was back.

Another 45 minutes, and suddenly it was my turn to assist in toiletry habits again.  I'm all about helping, but can it please be someone else's turn? Dad's still snoozing, or pretending or something, but he surely wasn't moving.  He swears he was up all night, but I beg the differ.

By the time 8 am arrived, I was up.  Awake. Wired. Everyone seemed to feel better and off for the day we went.  No activity all day long....and then the sun went down.  It was the nicest day.  The sun was so bright. The breeze was so breezy.  The sun went down, and the demons were back.  The rain was back with a vengeance. Tornado sirens were blaring all around.  The baby didn't have but a small nap in the afternoon.  So, why at midnight was he still awake?!

Aaaaaaaannnnnnnnddddddd another visit from the whambulance.  "Whaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh, whhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh, whhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh..." For hours.  No gum numb, no juice, no crackers, no loving, no sleep, no hugs, no holding. NOTHING CURED HIS MISERY. Finally I just decided to let him cry it out.  Until I heard that sound.... that "I'm going to hurl. It hurts so bad. My guts are going to explode." sound.

My neck hurts. I'm exhausted.  I've washed the same sheets twice, all the pillows, the kids and now the crib linens and the baby again too.  But hey, the suns going to be out an extra hour this afternoon right? Daylight savings is grand!

I will cower no more

The past week or so I have hit an extreme case of writer's block, and the cause was somewhat of a mystery to me up until this morning.  I would sit and stare at the keyboard, but no words would form.  Despite the immense amount of topics to choose from, because let's face it, my life has never been calm, I still couldn't think of a single thing to talk about. Then it hit me....like a ton of bricks, it hit me.  I was cowering.  I have long known that my ex and his wife have been reading this blog.  They monitor my social media closer than a jealous ex girlfriend who's certain her man is seeing someone new. I've known this, but I had never really faced it head on.

Last week we had court, and the court officer told us where to sit.  He placed me a row behind and a few folks to the right of my ex. I was bored and scanning the room for something to occupy my mind when his phone caught my eye.  My phone is your typical smart phone, small case, and you couldn't read the screen from 2 people over.  But, his phone is massive. I couldn't make out the words, but I did notice the web address he typed was very long. It caught my attention, because most web sites have very short names. When the page came up, I immediately recognized the color scheme.  I designed that page.  That was my page!  He was scrolling through my blog right in front of me.  I couldn't figure out why this bothered me so much.  It was my story to tell.  He has his version, and may I add that some of his version is hilarious.  For the record, if I attempted to burn anyone's house down, it would be down. Not to mention, I'd be in prison for arson, because let's face it, I'm not a criminal mastermind, and I would get caught.  I give plenty of thought into the words I type, and I refrain from putting the gory details in most of the time.  So, again, why did it bother me?  I have my suspicions, but basically, I was cowering to a bully I knew would be angry.

That day in court didn't go well in his favor.  In fact, it backfired in an awesome way.  As I walked from the courthouse, beaming with elation, I knew there would be repercussions. Things had been civil for a little too long.  Pulling his wife from the equation calmed most everything down, but I knew that day things were about to heat up quickly.  They did.  By the next morning the storm on the horizon had reared it's ugly head.  It was comical, but I still couldn't put it into words.  I had no desire to gloat the sway in my favor.  I didn't care to publish what all went on that day.  Although, a huge a step in the right direction, to me there was still nothing to tell.  But why? I should've been shouting from the rooftops, but again, to me there was nothing to tell.

Today I spoke with an old friend briefly, as we catch up every few weeks or so.  It was during this conversation I realized how little the reward meant.  The winning felt great, but the reward didn't seem to matter.  Just shortly after this epiphany, I saw that it was time to stop cowering. I am not afraid anymore.  I will cower no longer.  I am done being the doormat.  I am done keeping my mouth shut.  I am done being the bigger person.  This is my story to tell.  I have yet to publish anything that isn't true, provable or if my opinion, protected by my first amendment right.  I have never mentioned a name.  I have never defamed anyone's character.  So from this moment on, I will write my story; the good, the bad and the ugly.  It's my story to tell.

To my faithful followers, I have to say thank you.  I appreciate you very much, but may I add, that if no one ever clicked on this page again, I would continue to write.  This is where I empty my soul. To those who are only reading to find dirt in a snow storm, thank you as well.  I don't do this for profit, but you sure are changing that with every click. Stay tuned....I'm just getting started. 

I'm not fat....I'm textured

So somewhere over discussing health issues and getting older with my bestie, I decided to start working out.  I may have been under the influence of something unbeknownest to me, because anyone who knows me, knows I don't work out.  I'm 32 and besides a couple month stint in the gym after my second child (which did not make much of a difference) I have never worked out.  I'm not the girl worried about her caloric intake.  I don't even own a scale! The number does not bother me, nor does the size.  I am very comfortable in my skin.  But, I decided to work out none the less.  I promised the sig 30 days, and then we'd go to the gym together.  Partially because I need a head start to catch up with his form, but more likely, because he didn't want to pay for a membership if I were just gonna blow it off.  Fine and good. 

So, I've always believed that you can't start anything mid week.  Monday is always the starting point.  If I stop on Tuesday, I'll restart next Monday.  Yes, that's my laziness kicking in. 

Well this lovely day, I got up early.  I laced up those trainers and slid into the shorts. I came to the living room and loaded my workout on youtube. I was ready..... until about 35 seconds into the warm up.  This portion was only 3 minutes long, and I was already dying.  I was sweating.  I don't sweat, but there was perspiration rolling down my back and forehead.  It wasn't delicate, graceful lady glistening either, but full on man sweat. Horrendous pourage rolling in mass quantities down my spine! My thighs were burning, and my shorts were suddenly rubbing uncomfortably against them.  By the time the real music began, I was almost to tears.  What did I get myself into?!

Before the first verse of song #2 was over, I was shaking head to toe. My butt and legs were on fire! I couldn't breathe! Almost certain of my impending doom, I slowed down just a tad.  The thoughts running through my head were of me lying on the floor dead from a massive heart attack with a toddler home alone all day.  How would he explain that to his therapist? How would the sig explain this to the world?  Oh yea so my girlfriend decided to be more healthy and died on day 1 of the work out. AHHHH!

I made it through the second song, and when the third started to play I was on to thoughts of lunch.  Did we have any donuts left? Man I could really use a cheese burger.  The thoughts of sushi, and ice cream, and cookies, and dill pickle chips just flooded my mind.  At this point my legs were numb.  I had stopped wondering if my gut was still jiggling, because I couldn't feel anything other than my armpits screaming for me to quit.  I didn't know there were muscles in your armpits by the way.  Maybe that's why boobs start to sag. 

At this point, my shorts were soaked. My feet were slipping around in my runners like I'd just jogged through a creek bed.  My shirt was sticking to me in the extremely irritating way like someone at the concert spilled beer all over you, but you paid way too much money for this ticket to go home, and there's no way you're getting an assault charge for hitting them.  So you just deal with it.  I was starving! All I wanted was a carbonated beverage of ANY kind. 

I thought I was going to pass out.  I couldn't do another leg lift.  I couldn't squat again.  I probably won't be able to squat for a week to be honest.  I looked down at the clock. IT HAD ONLY BEEN 7 MINUTES!!!!  Are you serious?! I can't even breathe through 7 minutes of exercize without having heart palpatations and fearing cardiac arrest? This 30 days may very well be the longest of my life.  I think it's possible that it could be longer than the last 6 weeks of pregnancy. 

I'm not sure being in shape is for me.  Maybe it's ok to be a little pudgy.  After all I've dealt with my weight and dimples this long, what's a few more years? I'm white, like porceline white.  I can't tan.  I don't tan. It's just not in the genes for me, and I'm ok with that.  I have the map of Asia around my belly button.  That belly button on a good day looks a little mishapen, but on a bad day appears to have a tiny hand pushing out of it.  It's a hernia, and it doesn't bother me.  I still wear my swim suit.  I still rock some shorts.  Life is way too short for all this stress.  I'm not niave enough to say I will go on a diet. It won't happen.  I like greasy food, and fries, and chips, and brownies, and cake, and omg that sounds amazing right now. I'm salivating, so I'm going to wrap this up. 

In short, I'm ok with my size. I'm not going to quit, because I promised the sig 30 days.  Who knows, maybe I'll even start to enjoy it.  Until then, I'll be the one vegging out on the couch with every item of junk food in this house.  If anyone's down for burgers for lunch, come get me! I'll buy.

Vulnerable...

"She's vulnerable," she said.  "She's vulnerable." Those words have repeated themselves in my head a million times over the last 24 hours.  I questioned why anyone would point that out, and then it hit me.  I am vulnerable....and that's the best complement anyone could have ever said about me. 

In a world where it is better to be hardened and bitter, I am vulnerable.  I am so proud to be that.  I type on this keyboard and share it with millions of people: close friends, coworkers, family, enemies, strangers alike, and I am ok with that.  My heart has been broken so much. I have suffered so much, and vulnerable is the best thing I could ever ask to be.  Willing to love, regardless of the pain that may come.  Despite my insecurities, fears, failures, I am willing to bare the deepest parts of my soul for the chance at happiness. 

I met a man, a beautiful man that struck me the minute he walked into my life.  He was my friend long before my significant other.  I watched his struggles in life and in love.  I prayed for him. I worried for him.  I never even noticed it. I was drawn to him, and I didn't even notice it.  So when tragedy struck in my life, and he stepped up to be a friend, again, without even noticing I allowed him to be there.  I let him be my friend even though I was suffering.  I let him in.  He didn't make the first move. I did.  It just happened, but it happened all the same, because I allowed myself to step out there again.  I allowed myself to be vulnerable, despite the heartache I felt in the past.

No matter how much pain comes my way in the future, or what I still feel from the past, I don't ever want to build the walls so high that they're impenatrable.  I want to feel.  We should feel. It's human.  I don't want to numb the pain. I don't want to regret not saying the words in my mind.  I don't ever want someone to question how I feel about them. 

I was petrified the day he said we were going to meet his parents.  I couldn't concentrate over the next few hours, and thousands of excuses flashed through my head as to why I couldn't go.  But, I went anyways. I swallowed the fear.  I stepped out there, praying I was good enough, praying I'd be accepted.  I have grieved the loss of so many friends and family members, but I am willing to make room in my life  and my heart for more.  They may not all stay with me, after all, friends come and go.  But, I will give myself the opportunity to know and love them anyways. 

I am scared of pain.  I do have trust issues, but I am brave enough to say "I love you." I am big enough to admit that if my relationship ends, it will break my heart. It will hurt.  I don't need anyone, but I want them.  I don't need the sig, and I can live without him, but I want him here, and I don't want to be without him. I'm strong enough to trust in love after the hurt. I am willing to be vulnerable, because love is worth the chance of pain.  Because love is the only thing on this earth that cures the heartache and seals the wounds.

Love sucks. I'm sorry that I'm not sorry.

To those I offended by my Valentine's....

My humblest apologies are in order. I took yesterday to really consider why it was offensive. Personally, I don't think it was. When I see a little heart attached to the straw of a juice box, I don't read "love sucks" offensively. I see a pun whose intended purpose was humor. 

Apparently in our society of over sensitive, easily offended, politically correct individuals humor is no longer acceptable, and for that I am sorry. I am so sorry that we can no longer use certain words without someone reading too much into it or getting in a tizzy. Lord help us all, if she was trying to be cute. I'm sorry that your children won't grow up with thick skin. It saddens me to the bitter core that literal is the only form of speech acceptable, and even then silence is best. I'm sorry that your children are being taught that freedom of speech is no longer free. Our fore fathers fought for a freedom we aren't even able to exercise anymore, because heaven forbid if it's too colorful for a fifth grader. 

Your school system can allow our children to learn a terrorist religion, witness violence, be bullied into suicidal thoughts, and learn more about the human anatomy than most adults know, but we can't be funny anymore. For that I am truly sorry. From now on, you can rest assure that I will screen my cards. I will resort to premade valentines if necessary, but I have the utmost sympathy for the kids growing up in this system. There are worse things to be offended by than my poor choice in words, but I am sorry. I will stifle my creativity, be careful of my wording, and give every effort not to be off color. 

I will offer you this, a light bulb and my final pun. Some would think it's because I'd seen the error in my ways, but no. This is for you. I want you to place it visible to whatever chair you rest in to contemplate, so the next time you wear your feelings on your shirt sleeve and decide to invent a reason to cry, you can look at it and remember to lighten up. 

Sincerely and God bless, 

Love sucks. I'm sorry that I'm not sorry. 

The value of a dollar

I realize I've been on a roll lately with my "life skills" rants. There's a reason behind it.  It's something I have taken a personal interest in and made my mission to teach my children. I'll be perfectly honest in saying that growing up, I had no idea the value of a dollar.  So now that I have discovered it's not much,  I want my children to understand.  Money doesn't grow on trees.  Those sneakers aren't paid for with cash.  They're purchased with chunks of time and energy out of my life.

I heard someone talking about her daughter's education last week, and it infuriated me. She said, and I quote "I'm not really worried about her education right now." WHY?! Not trying to be ugly here, but at some point you need to put a little stock in that education.  Marrying well isn't easy even if she's the epitome of a trophy wife.  In this day and age it takes 2 incomes to make it, and the chances of a woman being a stay at home wife/ mother are slim. Instead of assuming this is the path her life is going to follow, why are we not teaching our daughter's to be self sufficient?  The same way I tell my sons, I instill in my daughter that two things will take you where you want to go in life- a good education and a good credit score. That said you'll need a job to buy the items you want and need, and the brains to pay your bills on time.

This subject gets my blood pressure elevated.  The vein in my forehead is thumping as I type.

Not many are teaching their children the cost of possessions. Like I said, they're not purchased with money.  Those $150 Nike shoes takes the average person making $10 an hour, 3 days to earn.  This is because after taxes and such, they only make about $6.50 an hour.  This doesn't include the other bills their working towards earning.  Now multiply that times the number of kids you have.  In my case 4.  That puts it a little more in perspective right? It would take me 8 to 10 days working 10 hours at a time to afford all of them a pair, and that's just shoes.  Now let's add in jeans at $40 a pair, shirts an average of $15 each, a jacket for $30, and that's us shopping at American Eagle.  Lord help us when they develop a real taste for trends and labels.

I've maintained that when my children get to driving age, they will assist in the purchasing process.  Regardless of what I can afford, they're helping.  Them helping pay for the car will give them a better sense of appreciation.  Insurance premiums teach us to drive more responsibly. General maintenance is important for longevity.

I still have toddlers in addition to my preteens.  When they break a toy, I make them throw it away.  I don't rush out to buy a new one. They don't get treats every time we go to the store anymore.  Treats are for good kids who have earned a reward.  I'll buy you a banana every time I walk through the door of Target to keep you quiet, but I'm not buying a set of Legos. Is your room clean? Have you been respectful? Did you help out around the house at all? That's what earns the treat.

For goodness sakes, if I hear another parent talking about not caring about their kids education "at this age" I'm going to lose it. School isn't to retain all the information they learn.  I can't tell you the last time I had to explain the process of photosynthesis, and I have never used the periodic table since graduating.  My years in school did teach me time management, deadlines, the importance of being prepared, and how to deal with people. It also taught me to work smarter not harder. That education is important to get a better job.  I am not by any means belittling manual labor.  Not everyone is interested in being a Dr. or a lawyer. Some folks enjoy working on engines and homes. That's perfectly fine.  We do however need to teach our children that without that education, you won't make as much. A certified mechanic makes more than someone self taught.  A licensed contractor has more call backs than the handy man. See where I'm going here. Invest in your children and yourself.

So the next time you think it's not that important to be concerned about their schooling, think of what you're teaching them.   You're teaching your kid that he gets a participation ribbon just for showing up. No. That's not how life works.   I don't get a pay check just for clocking in.  If I don't accomplish anything throughout the day, my boss is more than likely going to tell me to find employment elsewhere, and then guess what? It's going to take even longer to purchase those sneakers.

Now I'm off to relax just a little, before I burst a blood vessel. Use your head people. Stop teaching your kids to be lazy and that life will just magically be handed to them.

Life skills

I think I've missed my calling in life.  Don't get me wrong, I really enjoy the new path I'm on, but I think I am going to continue my education and get a teaching degree. I want to teach Life Skills in about 20 years.  I can hear those that know me well.  Oh Lort! Our children are gonna learn some crazy stuff. Yes they will! They will learn what life is really about.  

I know I've touched on this in the past, but who remembers learning to balance a check book in school?  I didn't.  I recall taking an economics class, but I don't remember the part where they taught us how to choose the right mortgage or car financing options.  Home Ec never covered the part of how to communicate with your spouse either.  These are things our kids need to know, before they rush out into the world.

On the budget subject, they'd be given a hypothetical life with every option out there. This is your spouse.  Here's your house, with options to stay, remodel, rent it out, sell it, let it foreclose etc. Here's your car, it's set of mechanical problems and options for that as well. Fix it, sell it,  wreck it, send it back, etc.  Theses are your kids. You've got 2, 3, 4, however many they draw out, and here are their issues. This one is ungrateful.  This one has asthma.  That one is lazy. These are your options for the kids.  You can teach them, cater to them, send them to live with Grandma what have you.  Their budget would never include enough money to cover all the bills and live comfortably.  That may very well happen in your life, but not every month, and every person needs to know how to react in a struggle.  The choices made would have consequences too.  For instance, Whoops you got pregnant again! Aha! You're being audited this year! Good try buddy, but you're being sued now.Hey, honey the roof is leaking. Well, it's your roof now, cause daddy found a new girlfriend at the office, and he's moving out. Real life scenarios!! The goal of the lesson is to avoid divorce, bankruptcy, being homeless, suicide, murder or jail. Passing means you managed your money, made cuts where necessary, and made it out with all members of the family, and only ran your bank account into the red once.  You are allowed to zero out 12 times a year, but points are docked for going into the negative.  I think it's a great idea. I firmly believe the next generation, and the last for that matter, have no idea how to be an adult.

If anyone in the class gets in a fight, they're required to spend the remainder of their time that year together.  You'll be best friends or mortal enemies, but you won't graduate unless you can get along.  It means they have to do every project together.  They have to be friends outside of school too.  They have to do homework together, carpool to school, and ultimately work it out.  You know what that teaches them? Divorce isn't an option.  You may not like your boss, but you've got to fake it with a smile. Family will inevitably drive insane, but you have to love them anyways. Bullying would plummet.

Going back to the spouse, there will be an entire semester on relationships.  Like I said, each class member will be assigned a spouse of their choosing.  Some will be compatible, and some will be out of convenience.  You get in an argument? You're not allowed to sleep until you work it out.  Counseling will be made available, but the exam will be graded based on your ability to avoid splitting up at all costs.  Separation is allowed, but points are docked.  Points are given back and even awarded based on the getting back together process. This teaches them to choose their mate wisely.  Looks aren't always everything. Money can't buy you happiness, and psychotic tendencies lurk in the most unsuspected.

Life skills would have a follow up class as well, that deals with all the short comings.  If you and your spouse didn't make it, you get to learn to coparent.  If you filed bankruptcy, you get to learn how to recover and rebuild.  If you're homeless, you'll learn how to get back on your feet.  We'll call this class Recovery. They'll both be required, and at the end of them, these kids will have a clear understanding of real life, responsibility, and ultimately- cause and effect. 

Bitter or Better? Your choice

Sunday service was very inspiring for me.  Obviously, I'm on my second post that struck me from the sermon.  Pastor spoke about a man he met that every time he asked how he was doing would reply with "It's so hard. Life is so hard."  I swear I use that phrase a lot.  Life is hard! But, we all have a choice.  We can revel in the misery, or we can be thankful for the problems we have. After all, someone out there is praying for your battle.  It can always be worse.  That sounds negative, but really it's not.

One thing he said really hit home.  "I got news for you.  You folks that are having the best time of your life, it's gonna change. Didn't say it was good news! But you folks that are struggling right now, guess what? Change is coming." That was monumentous in my world. I feel like I've been circling the drain for a good minute. So hey, there's no where to go but up right? I've said 1000 times, and I'll say it another few thousand. "If I can survive the last 4 years of my life, I can make it through anything."  I have suffered the loss of friends, family, homes, jobs, cars, custody, relationships, material possessions, and the list goes on and on. I'm not sad about it. Every loss lead me to a gain.  My marriage failed, but I discovered that there is life after love.  I wasn't living up to my potential anyways, and I wasn't as happy as I thought.  I couldn't afford that car.  I worked from the bottom to the top at that job, but the view wasn't what I had imagined.  That ride or die friend was toxic to me, and I was toxic to her.  Those relationships taught me to always trust in love one more time, no matter how bad it hurt.  Love is the only thing on earth that heals the pain.  No one is better off alone, but like I've said before, everybody leaves.  By way of death or indifference, everybody's time in our lives has an expiration date, and I am ok with that.

To be happy in the midst of the struggle is not always easy.  When you're stressed to keep a job, or find a job, it's hard not to wonder where next month's rent is coming from.  It took a leap of faith for me to stop worrying. The good Lord has never let me down, and I don't want to doubt that now.

We're going to suffer in this life.  It is my personal belief that how we handle the suffering determines the reward on the other side.  If we get all bogged down and frustrated and negative about everything,  the light at the end of the tunnel is just a way out.  We don't appreciate it.

We need to stop worrying so much. Take it one day at a time and stop looking for problems that don't exist yet.  You may get hit by a train on your way to work tomorrow, but that doesn't mean you rewrite your will every night or take a different path that doesn't take you across the tracks.  Live today.  Kiss your babies. Love your mommas. Just stop stressing.

And that's my soap box speech today.  God bless.

The next phase

It dawned on me today, while sitting in Sunday service no doubt, that we always seem to be looking forward to the next phase in life.  I hear people all the time. "I can't wait to get married." "I can't wait until we have kids." "I can't wait for this baby to be born!" "Oh will I ever sleep through the night again?" "Will the terrible 2's ever end?" "Ugh, I can't wait until he's 4, because apparently the terrible 2's were just a warm up for the terrorist 3's."   We're always looking forward to what's coming next. Do we ever live in the now? 

I'll admit I'm right there with the rest of the world in stressing over the future.  Between work, family, sports, kids, the sig and my ex, there's no shortage of anxiety here.  A few things occurred to me today though. Far sooner than I am ready my youngest won't call for his Nan every time he gets in trouble.  My oldest doesn't use the word "riven room"  anymore.  My 3 year old will soon refuse to kiss me in public. There won't be toys left in the bottom of the bath tub forever.  All this makes me nostalgic.  Those tiny socks will soon turn into full grown sizes, and the cute little puppy love will evolve into full blow heart break.  I'm not ready.  

I miss the days when my sweet girl would ask 100 times a day to watch "the goo goo moo moo."  I would grit my teeth, but now that my sweet angry German wants to watch "the boog"  every single day over and over and over, I let him. I don't say no.  We know every word.  I've learned over time that when the kids ask you to sit down and color with them, you drop everything and color.  They won't ask forever.  There may be years with no crayons in the house, so I smile as I clean out their pockets.  Between the skittles between the couch cushions and matchbox cars lined in the window sill, they each bring a smile and quite frequently with them a misty eye. 

I am excited for what the next step in this life brings, but I am not ready to let go of what's going on now.  Soon enough I'll be meeting the parents of my children's significant others, and my heart will ache for the simple days.  You know, the days when changing pajamas was an accomplishment and brushing your hair was a privilege.  Whew! Who would've thought we'd ever be thankful for 2 hours of sleep, nonconsecutive at that and forgetting to eat all day long, because we were too busy cleaning up after the meals of the little ones?  

Yes, I'm looking forward to the future, but I am not stressing it.  As far as I'm concerned, these are the best years of our lives, and those to come will only be better.  

Tell me a story. ...

We all know someone who has clear commitment issues. I am that friend. I am the one on a prepaid cell plan, because I refuse to sign up for a couple years service. What if I don't like that carrier in a year? What if I want a new phone? I can't do a contract. I am the friend who has a significant other, because the term boyfriend just feels awkward for me. Lord help us if someone refers to him as my husband. 

Where does the allergy to commitment come from? Well, somewhere along the way someone destroyed trust. Someone on the path of life took security away and replaced it with the I'm not sure anymore attitude. Folks look at me crazy, because I have tattoos. Well, my tattoos aren't going to roll over one day and tell me they don't love me.

I am still bent. I'm not broken, because I am capable of trust and love. It's just a little harder to earn these days. I'm not afraid of love. In fact, that's the one addiction I have. Love conquers all right? It may not conquer all, but it heals better than time. 

I am not insecure. I am very comfortable in my skin. That doesn't mean I don't like to hear that I'm beautiful. I am quite confident in who I am. I've faced my demons, and I know my flaws. That doesn't exclude me from wanting to hear why I'm loved. I want to hear these things, because time changes everything. The reason you love me now may not be why you fell originally. The reasons you stay aren't the same as they were last year. Seasons changes. People change. Relationships evolves, and knowing why we're going to make it is an ever revolving door. Priorities, routines and habits all conform over time. 

Remind me why I'm worth it. Tell me about the good old days, and how they've gotten better. Tell me what I need to work on. What drives you crazy? What's irresistible? What turns you on? They say men need to be needed, but women need to be wanted. What makes you want me? 

When I look at the sig I see a handsome, charming, hilarious, sometimes selfish, sexy, romantic. I still get chills when he brushes his hands across my back as he passes by. My heart beats faster when he holds my hand, and my whole day melts away when he pulls me in for a deep embrace. No matter how I feel, I am ok when he holds me. 

On the flip side, I hear every time he doesn't say I love you. I feel the tension when he's upset with me, and it rips me to shreds. I don't sleep if he doesn't hold me. I miss him when he's not here, but after all this time I still smile when his name shows up on my phone. I often wonder what goes thru his mind when he thinks of me. 

Tell me a story.....you know the one where you fell in love with me. Remind me.  I want to hear the way your heart beat in your chest when I appeared. What was it about me that caught your attention?  You tell me yours,  and I'll tell you mine.

Growing up

Getting old really sucks.  I remember my dad would always tell me You can eat anything you want until you turn 25.  Then you're just gonna blow up!  I didn't believe him then, but at the ripe age of 25 I saw the light.  I had never been super skinny, but I was thin... a curvy thin, but thin none the less.  I'd never had a cavity, and for the most part I was relatively healthy.  The worst I'd ever been sick with was the flu or Mono. 

Twenty five hit, and suddenly my metabolism slowed to a screeching hault.  My teeth began to decay, and my hair changed consistency altogether.  I found my first white hair, and yes I said white.  It wasn't gray.  It was electric, ghostly white.  Food allergies began to set in, and the next thing you know, I was allergic to everything from beef to wheat.  My joints started popping, bones were more brittle, and nap time became my favorite activity. 

Age brings so many new things with it, unwanted to say the least.  Hormone imbalances, mood swings, night sweats, sensitive skin, hair loss, etc.  You start losing the hair on your head and suddenly have to shave your toes.  When I was a kid, I'd look at people my age and think gah!  You are so old!! I don't agree anymore.  At 32 years old, I think I am pretty young. I've got so much life left in me, but the body isn't holding up as well as the mind and spirit.  I still want to jump on the trampoline with the kids, play tennis in the backyard, and dive off the highboard.  The kids are still raring to go at 9 pm, and I'm fading by 7.  You hear people say they want the energy of the kids.  I don't.  I just want enough to keep up and the lung capacity to not have a heart attack after a 50 foot dash. 

The hormones bring the mood swings, which in essence causes everyone to take a ride on the emotional roller coaster.  You could be having a wonderful morning, and the slightest issue brings tears rolling down your face like the flood gates of the Hoover Dam just opened.  You find yourself balling over the dishes, because the kids hated whatever gourmet meal you attempted to serve.  When the baby suddenly decides one day that the man who plays cowboys with him is more fun than you, it sends your body into shock.  Next thing you know,  you're irritated at the world.  The family decides to watch a kid movie, and as consistent as gravity the room is staring at you as you're sobbing about a little girl in a Disney film losing her imaginary friend.  You lie awake at night wondering why on earth you can't seem to get it together.  Tomorrow's another day.  I'm not going to freak out and cry. Tomorrow comes and so do the water works... and over something as stupid as the neighbor's cat crapped in your flower bed.  Nobody walks there.  Why is it such a big deal?

You go to the Dr., and what does he say? It's totally normal.  You're almost 35, and it's understandable.  You break down when you explain how you've gained 10 pounds over 3 months.  Well what are you doing to counteract that? he asks.  Everything! Dr. I'm desperate.  I've done everything except exercise! As soon as the words leave your lips, you realize how goofy you sound.  I've done everything except the 50% of the recommended regimend to lose weight! GAH!! Then it hits.  How can I exercise? I don't even have the energy to play a board game!! How on earth am I going to do jumping jacks?! Old age....it's the number one killer on earth. 

When I grow up

I can't wait for the day that I'm old enough to move in with my kids.  I know how that sounds. It sounds insane.  I'm well aware of the insanity in that phrase, but honestly what sweet justice?  I want to be the one running through the house naked right after a bath or staring blankly at the tv after being told we have to leave in 5 minutes with only 1 sock on.  Yep, that sounds awesome to me. 

Better yet, I want to get in their business.  It'll be my turn to ask the crazy questions like What's wrong baby? You're poor? I mean UP IN THEIR BUSINESS!  I want to be the old lady in the grocery store begging my kids to buy EVERYTHING on the shelf... or just sneaking random crap in the cart and pretending to have no clue where it came from later.  I'll ask to borrow money all the time.  I'm going to read their text messages, may even respond to a few.  Mail won't be safe either.  I'll look through their bills and question where their money goes.  The fun part will be asking about their relationships.  Why do y'all fight about that? Why do you like him/her? How come he never buys you flowers?  I don't think he spent enough money on you for Christmas.  You should've planned better for that anniversary. 

Child discipline won't be safe either.  Honey, it's ok.  Granmum will fix it.  We'll go get a cookie.  We won't tell mom and dad you were bad today.  Don't spank him. He's just being a boy.  I never punished you for that.  You're not being fair to that child.  I think you like Bobby better than Suzy.  Oh yea! Boundaries won't exist at all.  They'll have all these long talks with me about how I'm being disrespectful and need to mind my own business.  What are they going to do? Send me to my room?  Put me in a nursing home? Then I'll call home every day and lay the guilt on thick about how I never sent them away when they were being difficult.  I just sucked it up, dealt with it and loved them anyways.  They good news is I have 4 kids, so I can torture them one at a time. 

When we go to Dr. appointments, I'll be the one in the waiting room going on and on about how they NEVER feed me.  At the mall I will complain how they never buy my anything.  My stuff is all so old, and Ugh, you always say no to everything.  TV time will be my time to sit and talk over whatever it is they're wanting to watch.  I will inevitably have to pee everytime someone takes a shower, and when my rear hits the seat it may have a different urge.  I will use all the hot water when I bathe and splash water all over the floor...water I won't clean up.  I may even get out of the bath to pee and leave water all over the toilet seat.  I'm never flushing either.  I will hide my dirty laundry under the bed, and stuff shredded paper behind EVERYTHING. I will make a point to spill every drink I am poured, hate every dinner served, and complain how nothing is ever good enough.  Cleaning will be out of the question.  I'm shoving all the junk into the corner and then begging to go outside to play. 

Speaking of play time... every night it'll be play a game with me. Let's go jump on the trampoline.  I want a popsicle.  I need those skittles!! Of course, I won't ask just once.  Oh no, that wouldn't be fun. I'll beg until they either give in or flip their lid.  I'll stare at them with that why have you gone nuts look the entire time they're yelling.  I may stare off into space occasionally until they get in my face and ask why I'm not listening to them.  And when they've had too much, I'll go tell them how sorry I am. Make them feel like I'm going to change, and then ask for the skittles a few hundred more times. 

The car will be the best place ever.  I will help pump the gas and go extremely slow with it.  Needing something from every gas station is a must, and using the bathroom at every stop will never get old.  The radio station will need to be on what I like to listen to, and I'll roll the windows up and down constantly on a rainy and cold day while kicking the back of their seat.  I will be hungry every time we get in the car and leave half my food under the seats.  Of course, I will require bringing something from home everywhere we go and leave it in the car too. 

When their friends come over, I'm going to share secrets like They were fighting yesterday.  She said she was kicking him out.  They didn't pay the wifi bill on time.  They yell at me all the time.  My room sucks, and my bed is uncomfortable.  Oh the bed!  Yes, in the middle of the night for the first couple months I'm there, I will creep into their room and ask to sleep with them.  When that doesn't work, I'm going to steal their favorite blanket for my bed, because it's just so perfect.  Their favorite pillow will be mine.  I will sit in their favorite spot on the couch when they get up. It's very important that I remember I must poke them every time I need their attention and call their name over and over and over and over and over again.  If they refuse my attention, I will make a point to get right in their face, maybe even grab their cheeks.  Lights will always have to be on in every room, which I will forget to turn off.  I'm not walking the dog. What do I look like? I did my chores for the 100 years I was raising them.  No matter how full the trash is, it'll hold what I need to discard, even if it means throwing it on the floor next to can.  And a trail of candy wrappers will follow me wherever I go. 

I will wait until we're in public to pass gas or burp.  I'll talk about my movements and bodily functions all the time.  I may even question their bodily functions and snicker whenever someone farts.  It'll be the best thing that ever happened.  Coloring on random pages in notebooks will keep me busy at night, and writing funny things in their calendar will be a nice gift they need to find.  The best part of all of this?  They'll love me for it.  They'll sit around complaining to their friends about how annoying I am, but yet I seem to have the sweetest look.  They just can't get rid of me.  They'll miss me when I'm not around, and they will crave my laughter in the silence.  I will be the smiling face they can't wait to see when they get home, and the bad days will be better when I'm there.  I will test their patience at every turn and push them to the very last thread of their rope, but I will reel them back in at the end of the day with my never failing love and affection. 

It's just a bad day

I finally had the meltdown. I've never documented a bad day for me.  I've talked about it afterwards,  but I've never fully explained what I felt leading up to a meltdown.

I am a bottler. I bottle my frustration and stress and irritations up. They're each one like a grain of sand. They flow into the vial one at a time. When it gets close to being full,  each grain is more pressure than it should be, and the final drop is monumentous. When it lands there's a split second,  a fraction in time,  where it appears it'll be OK. It's anything but. The glass begins to crack, and suddenly it just shatters.

I am the person you see walking around pretending to be fine. I push the bothers to the back of my mind and carry them like a ball and chain. None have to be categorized. Each stress is individual,  and possibly unrelated,  but all clumped together in the far corner. If you haven't noticed,  I'm also an avoider. I will avoid the frustration until I no longer can.

When I've had enough,  the emotions can't be silenced. As the sun goes down,  so goes my moral. I slip into despair, and tears flow uncontrollably. I sort through each and every grain of sadness,  anger,  stress, grief, etc. One by one,  I'm forced to deal with them until it's gone. As the last question in my mind is answered,  and the last overwhelming issue sorted through, I slip off to sleep.

The following morning is usually slow. As the sun comes up,  it lifts my spirits with it. A few hours of sunshine,  a cup of Joe, and an internal pep talk later,  the old me returns.

We all have bad days. We all deal with our problems differently. Sometimes I wish I could be that person that can sort them as they come. It's never been that easy for me. I've always let it build. It builds until it over flows, and then the pain runs out in the form of tears. It's just a bad day, and it will pass. I question myself and everything that is me. I wonder if I'm a failure. Am I good mother?  Well I ever have it all together?  The last of questions may or may not be rational,  which is where the pep talk comes in. I have to remind myself to see the path I've traveled. Looking up the mountain is overwhelming until you see how far you've come.

It's just a bad day. There will be others. There will be the days when I cannot see the big picture,  but focus solely on the details. I take them as they come, one day at a time. It's only a bad day. It's not a bad life.

Life is hard, and it isn't fair

Life is hard. It isn't fair. Some people have it made their whole lives,  while others have to fight and struggle for every inch they gain in this world. I am the fighter. We don't all get dealt the same hands, but the years have taught me a few things.

Life has taught me the value of a dollar. There was a time when I was horrible at managing money, and trust me,  I know how to spend it. It took many failures to know how to hold it,  save it,  and make it last. But believe me when I say,  if I squeeze a nickel, I can make 7 pennies fall out. Which brings me to priorities. No one is busy all of the time. You pay rent first, utilities second,  and everything else afterwards. When the kids are present, be present. Priorities are what comes first in your life, and the order in which you put everything tells me everything I need to know about you.

Everyone has a tell when they're lying. I've mastered finding that tell within the first 5 minutes of knowing someone. Whether I call them out or not depends on the lie. Little lies lead to big lies, and I've discovered if someone is comfortable telling a white lie,  they'll get comfortable telling more and trust will be very difficult to maintain. I have also come to believe that trust is the most important ingredient in any relationship. You can marry a perfect stranger and never love them, but you can make it work for 100 years. If you don't trust your partner,  it isn't a question of if you will fail. It's when. And broken trust is 3 times harder to fix than it was too originally earn.

Some people are just toxic. No matter how much you love them,  they're not healthy for you. They may be perfect for someone else,  but not for you. Don't hold that against them.

Forgiveness is not always earned. You must give it anyways, with or without explanation or closure. Your sanity and peace depends on it. Always remember ,the devil wears sheep's clothing. Not all who keep your company are your friends, and we must be careful what we share.

Burning bridges will either light your path or cause you to swim. Keep the bridge until you know which way you're going. Be nice until it's time to be mean,  but never destroy another human.

Broken people are the most difficult to love,  but if they open up and show you the pieces,  don't take that for granted. They love stronger than anyone,  and while it will take them longer to let you in,  it's worth the wait. Don't let this life make you bitter. It will break you. It will wear you down. At least once you'll think you're better off alone. This isn't true. We're built for companionship. Let yourself fall in love, be loved,  and get back up when it's over. Love is the only thing that heals all wounds.

Laughter truly is the best medicine. Marry the one who keeps you laughing.

Everybody leaves. They leave at the worst of times,  when you least expect it,  and when you need them the most. Love the people while you have them. You never know how long their portion of the story is. It may be a sentence or a chapter. Call your parents even though they're going to talk about their feet. They won't be there forever,  and you'll wish you had them to chat with, even if it is about their toenails.

Lastly,  secrets are rarely kept. Skeletons don't like closets,  and gossip is for everybody.

Life is messy. It's not always beautiful, but it is what you make it.