The writing on the wall

I have always believed in a divine plan or purpose- kind of that everything happens for a reason concept. Call it fate, karma, what have you,  I've always believed it was real, though I didn't always pay attention to the signs.

A fine example would be roughly 10 years ago right after my ex had proposed marriage. I'm not sure of his intentions,  but I had none of rushing down the aisle. I saw a long engagement of several years at the least. Not quite how that turned out. A surprise pregnancy launched a mad dash to the alter with one set of parents demanding we make it right and the other coming up with every obstacle possible to prevent the exchanging of vows. Funny thing is,  I assumed the roles would be reversed. I figured it'd be my family forcing us down the halls of matrimony, but it was anything but. From the refusal to contribute financially to the wedding all the way to a bribe at the door of the church,  my family was firmly against it. Did I listen?  No. Why would I? After all we were happy, meant to be. I clearly wasn't reading the signs on the wall.

The day I met my in laws, I'd been invited to dinner at 7pm. I arrived at 6 50 and was greeted with a family that had already eaten and the driest piece of chicken I'd ever encountered placed in front of me with the words here ya go,  Kristen. Pardon me?  It's not bad enough the girls pictures were still all over the house,  but to be called her name?  I should've walked out, but I didn't. We were happy, remember?

The unplanned pregnancy was announced to my family right away. Actually, my mom informed me of my situation. None the less it was accepted with grace and love. Not the case when we announced to his family. After months of hiding until I could no longer conceal my growing bump,  I was denounced as the whore who'd disgraced their family name.  We won't mention that this was my first pregnancy, and he already had 2 children by 2 different women, neither of which he had anything to do with. I endured a couple hours of name calling, humiliation and belittling, before I finally just got up to leave. His dad chased outside and said whatever it took to calm me down. We cleared the air, but it would be an awkward few months to come.

The baby arrived just 6 weeks before the wedding date. That's when things began to get really interesting. The universe saw I wasn't paying attention to the subtle hints being thrown at me. So it stepped it up a notch or 12.  There was only 1 dress in the millions for sale that fit, and I hated it. My bridesmaids came from all walks of life and couldn't agree on a style,  and the plans on general crumbled a little every day. I had begged for 6 months to just go to the justice of the peace and not have a huge charade. He wanted to give me the wedding of my dreams. Little did he know the nightmare on the horizon. The week of the wedding rolled around. The chapel had been booked, bridesmaids informed to wear black, hair up,  and I didn'tcarethestyle,  and it was full steam ahead.

The first call of disaster was from the florist informing me that by mistake the flowers had not been ordered, and it wasn't possible to get them in. The next was from the photographer who'd over booked himself that day and would not be photographing our wedding. We rallied. My future mother in law took it upon herself to hire a florist and choose our flowers. He was color blind. My future father in law agreed to take the pictures four the ceremony,  but he didn't realize the shutter on his camera had broken. The only pictures we got were from my dad's camera and friends who attended. The cake lady was fired the day before the wedding for refusing to make what we wanted, so a friends of my future in laws made a cake. While it was delicious, it again was not what I wanted. Our intentions were to cut the cake at the chapel and be gone. No. That's not what the mother in law wanted,  so we were having a reception at her house. Mind you, this is the house that has ex girlfriend pictures still hanging on the walls.

I started to question who's wedding this was. Was it mine?  Or her's?

None the less,  ahead we marched like calves to the slaughter. As we arrived at the rehearsal dinner,  I realized I'd missed the graveyard in front of the chapel. Our parents had not yet been introduced,  and we arrived to find my dad sitting on a tombstone making off color jokes. Panic set in as the show down between 2 hot heads began,  but thankfully my mom diffused it by reminding both parties they weren't there for them. We sat through the most uncomfortable dinner where his family talked to each other, and my family spoke to each other. No one socialized. I was swept off to a furnished apartment provided by a friend, where the bathroom door broke on my way in,  and it took a near dislocated shoulder to bust out.

The morning of the wedding arrived,  and my groom had an unexpected oral surgery and then arrived sun burnt from watching a ball tournament half the day. A bridesmaid had fallen off the planet,  and to this day I've never heard from her. My hair didn't go as planned,  my makeup was more than my dad could handle, and my dress was just a tad too short. By the time my dad offered me $10,000.00 at the door of the church, every fiber of my being said run. Did I? Of course not. I had a wishbone instead of a backbone,  and down the aisle we went. There was no honey moon. There was no honey moon phase. We were whisked away back into everyday life, and in the back of my mind I wondered for months what if I'd just taken the money? 

Fate tried desperately to turn my head. I refused to see it. And while I have no regrets over the last 10 years, I still wonder what may have been. I don't regret a day I spent with the man. We built a great life together,  brought 3 beautiful children into this world,  and made a ton of memories. I learned a million lessons though.

Today I sit and reflect on my life,  and I'm genuinely happy where I'm at. I am madly in love with a man,  and between the 2 of us, we have 5 precious tiny humans. We have our disagreements. We fight. In fact,  a few weeks ago he struck a nerve with me, and I packed every item he owned and placed it by the front door. I didn't throw it in the yard, because that makes a whole new statement. That says, you're not coming back in. By the door says you can stay, but you'll fight for it. He did fight. It broke my heart to see him sad,  but I stood my ground, and we are stronger because of it.

Life has taught me never to be an option, never allow disrespect,  and fight for what you love. As I said, I don't have regrets in life. I do wish I'd told some I loved them sooner. I wish I'd told some to get lost sooner. Most of all,  I wish I had discovered who I was earlier in life. That's not how it happened though. I've learned so much over the years, and my heart is full of love and joy. I could choose to be bitter,  but I refuse. That doesn't hurt anyone but me. I will love with all my heart, but in the future hopefully,  I'll pay attention to the signs a little sooner. Maybe it will save me a tad bit of heartache. Maybe not,  only time will tell.

Disfunctionality at it's finest

Things don't always pan out the way we plan.  Looking back, I never expected to be where I am now, but I am thankful for the journey.  When my ex walked into the room a few years ago and said he wasn't happy, I was devastated. In my mind, I worried I'd be alone forever. I had so many fears,  but the one that screams the loudest of them all was that my children would not have a normal family. It took a bit for me to grasp what normal was. Normal isn't mom and dad. Normal isn't the same people married forever. Today,  normal is where our children understand that family is family regardless of DNA.

My tiny humans and I have different types of fun days. Where your typical crowd goes to the mall or plays board games,  my kids like to go goodwill shopping or people watching. We were parking at the local goodwill when the conversation sparked about family, as it comes up several times a month. Each conversation I try to assure my children that they have a wonderful family. They don't have 2 either. It's one big blended family. My daughter is so much her mother's child, and it pains me to know how difficult it is for her to share emotions that when she opens up, we stop everything. I give my undivided attention, because I know if the layers of the onion begin to peel for myself and are not received,  it'll rot on the vine next go round.

I don't remember every detail we spoke about, but I will never forget the moment she burst into tears and asked why we couldn't just say we were sorry. I've heard my son say this when he was younger,  but she was old enough to understand, or so I thought. I took extreme caution with my words,  but I wanted her to hear me clearly. I don't hate dad. I don't hate his wife,  his mom,  his dad,  none of them. I was disappointed in the way our split came about,  but I would never begrudge a man for staying where he was unhappy. He appears happy now,  and that is OK. The only thing I ever ask is that your step mom be good to you. If she is good to you,  then she has my blessing. But being good to you also means being passive when it comes to me. If anyone,  and I mean anyone,  talks bad about your mother,  that's not being good to you. That's no different when it comes to your dad, grandparents etc. It's called respect,  and the main reason no one in my household is allowed to discuss negative topics when you're around.

See, I specifically used the word passive where I was concerned. They don't have to like me. I could not care less,  but they should be respectful enough to my children to shut up. I have explained this concept over and over again to my children.  No one should ever be allowed to disrespect their parents- even their other parent. 

Having to explain to my children that they should never feel they have to choose between which parent to love breaks my heart. I pray I have never presented that choice. They should never have to choose. We are not in competition. We are more family to love them. My parents aren't better grandparents than his, and vice versa. It doesn't matter who has more money. We all should love them unconditionally,  and sadly I am coming to grips with the fact that this isn't happening. The tears streaming down that precious girls face was proof enough.

We can't function as a family.  We can't function as parents.  It's a bitter truth that we spent 10 years together and can't even put our children's best interest first.  Why? Well it seems the ulterior motive where some are concerned is to have them hate one parent.  I will never accept this as right. I will never condone it, and I will work every single day to change it.  My children should never fear telling their mother they love her.  We have got to change it, and I will not stop until we do.

I think it is assumed that my goal is to win sole custody of my children.  This isn't the case.  If I truly wanted that, I could've stayed in Texas 4 years ago and waited on my ex to give up, the way he did on his other 2 children.  He simply faded out of the picture.  I didn't have to move 3 states away from my family for it.  I want my children to have both parents, equally.  We've both moved on with our lives, and there's nothing wrong with that.  I want my children to feel loved and comfortable in both homes. I want them to understand we are a team. I want us to actually be a team. Protection orders, accusations, DHS claims and rumors should cease. Those tiny humans see the struggle and feel the stress even when it's not right in front of them. 

God forgive us for the pain we've put these kids through. Lord help us to chart a course that is healthy and happy for them. Guide our steps and help us find forgiveness and tolerance. 

A burning match

I look at women in relationships, and I have wondered far too many times how in the hell she got to be so psycho?! We all know at least one female that all men refer to as bat shit crazy. OK fine and good.  How does that happen?  Is she born with it? I never thought in a million years I'd ever be that woman.  I'm usually very cool, calm and collected.  I've pride myself on never speaking out of anger, because I see what it does...and then you throw a little alcohol into the mix with an issue that hasn't quite been settled, and suddenly a psycho was born.  

My God! It was like I could see myself losing grip, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. I flew off the handle.  I woke a man out of a dead sleep with the swing of my fist.  What the hell had gotten into me? What on earth had possessed me to not just participate in this raging shenanigan, but in another persons home, no doubt? Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  

There we were well past midnight, intoxicated, both confused, screaming obscenities at one another, yelling that we were done. Why? Because we didn't finish a card game? Because I didn't answer the phone when he was lost hours before? Because rather than fighting about it, he chose to go to bed? Stupidity is the only explanation. It was ridiculously stupid, and yet there we were.  

It wasn't until the effects of the nights binge wore off that I realized, it was my fault. I threw an adult temper tantrum. Now I will not accept full responsibility, but I did start it.  I finished it as well.  We looked like assholes, and the only explanation was me.  No one wants to admit their flaws or faults, least of all myself, but I didn't have a choice.  There it was glaring me right in the eye. Truth is, my worst flaw is that I keep score.  I am the friend everyone calls to piece together the evening when they can't remember.  I am the one who can remember the littlest details everyone else forgets.  I remember smells, what someone was wearing, the conversations that took place, everything.  It's proven not to serve very well.  There I stood, yelling at the man I love, and rather than discuss the issue currently at hand, I brought up every wrong thing he'd ever done, and some I just assumed. 

When someone hurts me, betrays me, etc, I don't let it go.  I forgive, but I never forget.  In essence, that isn't forgiveness at all.  It's as if I'm holding the cards until they serve my purpose, and for that I am extremely wrong.  When the argument had finished, and we had said our apologies, I had promised to tear up the score card and wipe the slate clean.  That's the only way we'll ever make it.  Forgiveness can't take place when you're still holding on to the past.  It's like holding a burning match. Eventually you either let it go, or it burns you.  

My dearest friend was there the evening of our sherades. She mediated, God love her.  She mentioned something that has been eating at me for 2 days now.  You're punishing him, because of what your ex did to you.  He broke you, and that's not this man's fault.  My God! She was right.  My ex tore me down, broke me to pieces, but that's not this man's fault.  If he could love me enough to come crawling back after hurting me, and trust me I made him grovel, then he should not pay for another's sins. I chose to love after my heart being broken.  He chose to love me despite my broken pieces and sharp edges. The past won't do anything but hurt us both.  I am not his ex.  He is not my ex. We are us. He wasn't the one who broke me.  I wasn't the one who broke him.  Our paths collided, and we chose to love again after destruction.  At the end of the day, we aren't really broken.  We're guarded.  We build walls around our hearts to protect us from pain.  We must be brave enough to tear them down. 

Up until the moment I flew into my psychotic rage, past mistakes continued to bother me.  It didn't matter that he'd apologized. I clearly did not accept it.  He made a mistake, a huge mistake and one that hurt me very deeply.  It damaged trust, and I in turn made a bold statement.  I gave an ultimatum, which generally isn't my style. He apologized. He promised it would never happen again, and then the first quarrel afterwards, there I was rubbing it in his face. Today, I can honestly admit, that even though I remember the incident, I am not holding the grudge.  I will put my faith in him again.  I will not continue punishing him for the events that hurt me in the past.  I pray I never fly off the handle like that again either. I have been 32 years without hitting another human, but I stained that record in a fit of rage. He laughed and said yep, you'll have to live with that one, honey. He's right. I will have to live with it, but I'm comforted knowing that it taught me a valuable lesson.  

"No amount of regret can mend the past.  No amount of anxiety can change the future.  All it does is destroy the present."   unknown

I can't say there won't be mistakes in the road ahead, but we will face them head on without the baggage of the past holding us down.  And...I'll probably never swing my fist again.  

Comparison isn't fair

We went to church this evening, and I felt compelled to share. I was raised on a church pew.  Sometimes it felt as if we went to service 12 times a week and 3 times on Sunday.  I've slacked off the past few years.  It's been very difficult for me to find my faith again. When I discovered Life Church in Collierville, I immediately loved it.  Going to the young adults service in East Memphis, has been nothing short of a movement. For the first time in years, I've felt at home.

So many times we go to service, and the message goes in one ear and out the other.  Then there are messages like this evening's that shake you to the core.  It was as if every single word was spoken directly to me, and  I needed to hear every single one of them.

Pastor Jason was in from the Arkansas campus, and he spoke about comparison.  At the beginning of his message he said,  "I get most of my encouragement from other people's failures, and I get my greatest insecurities from other peoples successes."  How true is that in all of our lives? One of my worst traits is that I compare myself to others.  We all do.   We compare ourselves to everyone around us, and to be frank, it either brings us up or shoots us down.  To sum it up,  Comparison is not fair, a waist of time, and counter productive. It either makes you greater or lesser.  

My entire life I've been comparing myself to those around me, but when he said You have to accept what God gave you, it was moving.  It finally made sense.  We aren't all built the same.  We aren't all the same height, weight, body type, level of maturity, brains, or beauty.  He was right!  I have to accept that I am different, and that's what makes me great! I have strengths, weaknesses, quirks, and talents all different than everyone I know.  These are all the things I need to embrace about myself.  The good Lord didn't give me the brains to be a rocket scientist, but He gave me the personality to work with people.  That may mean I'll be in customer service or sales the rest of my life.  You know what? That's ok with me. I love people! As frustrating as they are, if you threw me in a cubicle away from everyone, I would go insane.  I couldn't do it.  I wasn't born with a smooth personality. I'm abrasive, and weird, and quirky. Again, totally good with it,  I don't have the fanciest house.  I don't even own a car at the moment, and 4 years post divorce, still not able to talk about a serious relationship without cringing. (Yes, I am in a relationship.  The moment marriage comes up, I have to change the subject.) You know what I was given? A house, with grass and trees, and I am so incredibly thankful.  I was given a wonderful man, who isn't perfect.  He's the first person I've ever argued with, and I'm grateful for that. For the first time in my life, someone is worth the fight.  I should show him more how much I care.  He lets me drive his car...even after I jacked the muffler, and someone tried to run me off the road.  He isn't perfect, like I said.  There are days when I want to strangle him, but I don't, because I'd miss him, and we have way too much fun.  I can honestly say that life has thrown me so many events, that I've never understood.  I've grown so bitter from the experience, but tonight I finally accepted, it is what it is.  Things happen that shouldn't have, but they did none the less.  There's nothing I can do to change any of them.  Each one has lead me to where I am today, to the person I am today.  I don't believe any of it was a mistake.

He said "We need to celebrate the success of others." That's hard for me too.  I see so many people that seem to have it so easy.  My goodness, it's like nothing in their life ever goes wrong! It's so frustrating, but then tonight as Pastor Jason spoke, I realized, if I stop looking at what I don't have, I will see that they are blessed, but so am I.  For all the things that I mentioned before and a million more, I am blessed.   I don't have the fanciest house.  I don't even own a car at the moment, and 4 years post divorce, still not able to talk about a serious relationship without cringing. (Yes, I am in a relationship.  The moment marriage comes up, I have to change the subject.) You know what I was given? A house, with grass and trees, and I am so incredibly thankful.  I was given a wonderful man, who isn't perfect.  He's the first person I've ever argued with, and I'm grateful for that. For the first time in my life, someone is worth the fight.  I should show him more how much I care.  He lets me drive his car...even after I jacked the muffler, and someone tried to run me off the road.  He isn't perfect, like I said.  There are days when I want to strangle him, but I don't, because I'd miss him, and we have way too much fun.  I can honestly say that life has thrown me so many events, that I've never understood.  I've grown so bitter from the experience, but tonight I finally accepted, it is what it is.  Things happen that shouldn't have, but they did none the less.  There's nothing I can do to change any of them.  Each one has lead me to where I am today, to the person I am today.  I don't believe any of it was a mistake.

The last thing he talked about in his message tonight was how we all just need to find our approval in God.  I didn't understand that at first.  It wasn't until he was saying the closing prayer that it hit.  We all need a father to pull us in close and let us know we're doing a good job.  My eyes filled with tears instantly.  God love him, but I don't think I've ever pleased my earthly father.  I have always felt like such a disappointment to him, and for once I would just like to know that I'm doing something right. But as for my heavenly Father, I can finally see that I am on the right track.  I'm not perfect.  I never will be, but my efforts and choices are by His grace and with His approval.

 Sometimes we don't need deep words of wisdom to enlighten our lives.  Tonight, it was simple sermon that made me change my entire outlook.  If only we all just stopped comparing ourselves to others and in any situation.  Stop worrying about the neighbors lawn,  your best friends car, your cousins perfect kids, or your bosses bank account.  We may not be where we need to be, but as long as we're on the right track is all that matters.  

Hypocracy

I got a great laugh this week, and I absolutely had to share.  I was called a hypocrite for the way I love my children.  It was explained that I claim to love my children unconditionally, yet I get frustrated occasionally with them. The exact incident was when my daughter told me she wouldn't care if I got killed in a car accident, and the thought of leaving her on the side of the road was a thought.  It wasn't one I'd ever act on, but it flashed through my mind,

Now, let me be clear.  I would never leave my child anywhere, much less in traffic to fend for themselves.  The words she was saying were so hurtful, my gut instinct was to stop the pain by any means necessary.  Did I do it? No.  Why? Because I love her. When we arrived home, did I feed her the same meal as everyone else? Yes, I did.  Did I give her dessert afterwards just like everyone else? Yes, I did.  Why? Because I love her.  Because I do not want her to ever think she is less my daughter than the other 3 children I have.  No matter what she says or does, she will always be my daughter.  I will always love her, and I will never treat her differently.

That said, you line up 100 mothers and ask each of them if they've ever flipped their lid, had a parental temper tantrum, said some things they don't mean, even considered leaving their child on the side of the road, and I promise you 99% of the women standing there would have to admit they had.  The other 1% clearly doesn't spend enough time with their children.  Someone else is raising them, because children will push you to the brink of insanity.  They will crush your spirit by calling you fat, break your heart by telling you you're mean, and they will drown your dreams by letting you know you're too old.

I am not a hypocrite for venting my frustration any more than I am for being honest.  This world has enough fluff.  There is enough political correctness.  I don't know how to sugar coat things, and I refuse to be put down because I am open.  I am real.  What you see is what you get. I won't apologize for that.  There isn't anything wrong with being honest.  I have never hurt my children, despite the accusations that have been made.  I may lose my temper, but what parent hasn't?

We've all heard the phrase parenting doesn't come with a manual. It's true.  Children aren't born with instructions.  When I had the first of my 4, I had never really been around kids, certainly not a newborn.  I was lost.  I had no idea what I was doing, but I did the best I could.  I've made my fair share of mistakes. That's no secret.  We all have.  I've lost my patience, temper, composure, etc  As shameful as it is, there was a time when I was at the end of my proverbial rope, and I lost it.  The good Lord was paying attention, because as soon as I started yelling that stuffed animal suddenly appeared in my path, and low and behold, I came crashing to the ground.  It was a great humbling experience.  There was no yelling to be had after that.  We were all too busy laughing at mom busting the floor.

We're parents.  Yes, there are those super moms out there that feed their kids all organic foods and craft every week, but then there are the normal moms like me.  We make the mac n cheese with the powdered sauce, send lunchables to school when we are running late, and put our faith in our children that they brushed their teeth.  That isn't everyday, but there's nothing wrong with it. We slip.  We stumble. We fail, but we give it all we've got. There are no right and wrong answers.  I love my children, and I will not justify my parenting actions in an effort to prove that to the world. I am a mother, with a heart full of love for my tiny humans. I'm not perfect, but what's important is that they know they are loved.

Forgiving the unforgivable

Our children look to us for guidance, inspiration, but most of all as an example of what they should be. I consider myself to be a decent role model. I'm not a junkie,  alcoholic, nor am I a criminal. I believe in monogamy and am very loyal in a relationship. Of the thousand positive traits I could call off about myself,  I'm certain there are equal amounts of negative I could share. I won't,  because I really don't want to see myself in that light tonight,  but that's beside the point. My children have been watching me closely over the years,  and it has become evident they pay close attention during my times of struggle. They look for my reaction,  lack thereof,  and demeanor in every situation. I've told them for years "your attitude is the most important appearance. "  I failed to realize there was one trait I was not accustomed to portraying....forgiveness.

I began seeing a wonderful man months ago,  and like most relationships,  we found ourselves at a crossroad. Whether it was the influence of others on our relationship or the grass looking greener on the other side of the perverbial  fence,  we took a break. This break to me was final. I've said for years,  I will not give second chances, and my tiny humans were listening. My daughter, who is the oldest of the 4, saw the hurt in my eyes. She saw my tears. She witnessed my pain and had many questions,  to which I should've thought better of the answers. I spoke with emotion rather than wisdom,  and for that I will be eternally remorseful. None the less,  she adored this man before the split. After a month apart,  when I'd managed to regroup and fall into a new rhythm,  he returned. My initial instinct was to run. Why would I put myself through the same hurt I'd  already experienced?  That's not what ended up happening. We started as friends again, but my heart was captured right away,  despite my mouth spouting otherwise. Again,  my daughter was watching,  questioning,  and mostly forming her own opinion.

She couldn't refrain from asking the same question over and over again. "Mom, why would you be his friend?  You always tell us never to let someone hurt you twice." This question kept resonating in my head,  and I couldn't help but see I hadn't taught the most important lesson of love and forgiveness. I gave a valiant effort in hiring the highlights with hopes she'd understand,  but day after day her disrespect towards him grew. On one hand I was flattered. She'd expressed multiple times her hatred for me,  and yet being angry with him because he'd hurt me proved she cared. I somehow had to find the right words. We had to have a balance. The words came in the worst moment. I was reminded of the good Lord's love when I was having a hard time liking her. It was then I had the perfect teachable moment.

I sat and explained to her that though someone betray us,  we must forgive them. Yes,  earning trust is important,  but we didn't earn God's love. He gave it freely, even though day after day we failed Him. She seemed to grasp it....and then the unthinkable. "Mom,  if that's the case, why can't you forgive daddy? You don't have to like him,  but you should forgive him." OUCH!! Smitten by my own lesson! !

It hadn't occurred to me that I may have moved on,  but I was continuing to hold a grudge. I despised him for the pain he'd caused. I resented the way he ended our marriage. I loathed him for his lies and deceit. Somehow I had to find a way to let go of it. The only way I would find myself worthy of forgiveness would be to give it.

I haven't mastered the task. I struggled daily with forgiving him,  but I knew I must. The man I knew is dead and gone. I don't know the man that's caused such heartache, which is what makes forgiving him easier. I can excuse a stranger with greater ease than someone who has an emotional attachment. The breakthrough came when I made this connection. I've always said death is much like divorce,  only death is final. The man I loved died that august day after telling me he didn't love me anymore. He was buried the day he explained he was "still trying to live with me and love me, no matter what I looked like." His memory had been laid to rest,  and the man I deal with today is merely a stranger with an ax to grind. This was the revelation I'd waited for. The fat jokes no longer affected me. The rude texts and harsh words became nothing more than empty banter. Comical at times,  but meaningless. Forgiveness found him,  somehow in the disconnect. It was then I saw,   I had finalized the moving on process. I no longer wanted the fight. My goal was peace. I just wanted peace. It was the greatest weight lifted from my shoulders. For the first time in 4 years,  freedom was felt deep within my bones. I had learned that even the unforgivable was forgiven.

For the memories,  I must say thank you,  but also for the lessons. Peace be with you.

To my sweet baby girl

To my dearest daughter,

When you were little you made this little noise. It began the day you came home from the hospital.  We called it the "weed eater." It annoyed me to pieces, drove me absolutely insane.  The day I realized you no longer made that noise, I had a physical reaction.  I sat at the kitchen table and cried like a baby, because I knew I would never hear that sound again.  I regret not recording it.  I regret telling you to stop.  Looking back, it was absolutely adorable.  So many attributes about you are just that, adorable.

I wish you could understand the emotions I feel for you.  I look at you in such amazement, and I wish I could share that with you.  I am so proud of everything you have become.  You are so beautiful. Your confidence amazes me, and to hear the things you say just leaves me breathless.  You are by far the greatest thing I've ever done.

I've been promising for years that things will get better, and they just keep falling apart.  I sat here tonight and again poured my heart out in the form of waterworks, because I worry you have given up on me.  I fear you see yourself as a disappointment.  Rest assure my sweet angel, you cannot and will not ever be that in my eyes.  I will love you no matter your choices in this life, for we have all made our fair share of mistakes.  I am no stranger to failure.  I've built an empire many times and had to watch it crumble before my eyes.  I pray you never have to experience the things I've suffered in my life, although I know you will carry your own burdens.

Please know that I will be here, everyday for the rest of your life, to help lighten that load.  I will never lie to you.  I will always be straight forward and honest with you.  I have told you for years that this life is hard, but you will never have to face it alone.  No matter where your heart and dreams may find you, I will forever be only a phone call away.  I hope you know that I would move heaven and earth for you.

It is my job as your mother to love you, protect you, advise you, shield you from pain, pick you up when you fall, and dust you off to throw you back out there.  I will always be an ear to hear and a hand to hold.

Though you may not notice, I still watch you sleep and kiss your cheeks in the night.  I miss having story time with you where we read every book on the shelf and make the funny voices.  If ever you need a good laugh, your mumum will always be here to make you chuckle.  Singing in the car with you is one of my favorite hobbies, and listening to the ideas you have about life and where it will take you, always warms my heart.  You are the beat of that heart.  You have your moments when I am crushed by your words and actions, but I know there is love to be found within them.  I never hold a grudge, and I have forgiven ever harsh utterance that has crossed your lips. I sit and stare at pictures of you when you aren't here. I scroll through my phone daily watching you grow up in a slide show.

I will continue to promise that things will get better.  They will.  It may not be today.  It might now be tomorrow, but soon baby girl, very soon.  In the mean time, I will give you every ounce of my being.  You bring a smile to my heart, and I am in adoration at the woman you are becoming.  Please don't ever lose your innocence.  You will have to love some assholes in your life, but you will find the one eventually.  I will be here through every heartbreak and every downturn.  I will never interfere with your relationships, choices or decisions.  Your life is just that, yours.  I will support what ever you deem worthy, whether I agree or not, because it is your choice to make.

I pray you never feel unworthy of my love.  Please don't think that I am unapproachable.  My goal in life is to always be your friend.  My job is to steer you in the right direction, and I pray thus far I have achieved this.  Your job will be to take the path of your choosing.  Whichever this may be, I will not be far behind.  I can't protect you from every scar.  I won't be able to catch you each time you fall, but I can promise you this.  I will never abandon you.  I will always dry your tears.  I will give you any advise you seek to the best of my ability, and I will never judge you by your mistakes.  I will stand by your side and help you learn from every situation.

My hope for you is that you learn forgiveness. Give love more attention than hate.  Laugh every single day and give someone a compliment.  No matter how uneasy you are to tell someone you love them, do it as soon as you feel it.  We're not promised tomorrow, and there is no greater regret than unspoken affection. Don't ever be afraid to be yourself.  We're all a little weird.  Embrace it, and don't you ever apologize for who you are.  Hold your head high, but don't be too proud.  Know your worth. Most of all, know that I love you.  Please always remember the good times that we have shared, and no matter what this life throws your way don't ever give up.  Focus on today. I know that school will tell you not to ever do drugs, but the world will tempt you.  Just promise me you'll never do meth or heroine. Keep a sense of humor, you're going to need it.

Lastly, just like the quote says Live everyday as if it's your last, but use condoms and pay your bills just in case it's not."  

I love you sweet girl. Don't forget that.

With all my heart,
Mumum

Rolling with the punches

If the last 4 years have taught me anything, it's how to roll with the punches.  No matter what life throws my direction, my motto has become very simple -Just make it through today.  I know that sounds like an attempt to talk myself out of suicide, but really, it isn't.  It's my way of coping with the day to day roller coaster. I can't focus on the future right now, because all I have room for is today.  It's much like the saying "I try to take it one day at a time, but sometimes several days pile up on me at once." I can't worry what tomorrow holds.  Tomorrow will be here before I know it, and worry will only detract from today.  I can't change the past and don't know the future.

Over the last month it seems things just constantly go from bad to worse. I learned a long time ago, you don't ask if things can get worse.  The universe takes that as a challenge. Oh this bitch hasn't had enough? Let's hit her one more time.  Nope! I've learned to just roll with it, learn from it, and try not to repeat it.

I want to skip to the part in life when it doesn't hurt anymore, but how do you get there?  The road seems to be all uphill. Not just a slow grade climb either,  but a straight up, sometimes upside down ascent into the foggy sky that I can't see. I don't want to be heartless,  yet it seems so much easier than bearing this tremendous burden. When does the pain end?  When do I stop feeling like a failure?  When do I hit the plateau? I just need a quick breather.

Yesterday was the day I have talked about for months-when rather than going to bed ready to fight another day,  I crumbled to the floor and fall to pieces.  My strength was gone. My courage had been defeated.

From the time I could notice what money was,  my family was well off. We never hurt for much of anything. I married a man who's family had money,  and thus we never suffered either. After my divorce I came to know the very definition of the word struggle. Just when I got to the point when I could pay all the bills on time,  something would come up where I'd be juggling them again. I've built an empire just to watch it burn, and sadly,  I was holding the match. I've burned bridges,  made stupid mistakes,  and had too much pride to apologize at times. I often wish I could just be smarter. Why can't I just skip to the part where I'm financially stable? That's when the answer hits me. That's not possible. If I sore over the hard parts, I will never appreciate the easy days.

I stand here on the bottom again,  with no where to go but up,  and I am so scared. I'm petrified of the future. So many questions burn in the back of my mind. Questions I don't want to ask, some I don't want to have.

For so long, I've lived by the concept that everybody leaves. And then it sinks in. Maybe it isn't everyone leaving, but rather me running. Could it be that I am so terrified of love that I can't accept it when it's right in front of me?  Is it possible that I self destruct in my existence to push people away?  Maybe my fear of being alone is what creates the loneliness. All these questions filter over into my parenting. I am so desperate to succeed,  and yet I just keep failing.

I see the small victories. Like when my daughter tells me I'm an OK mom. I didn't get mom of the year, but I'll settle for OK. OK isn't worst. The angry German still says he needs me, and my oldest boy still likes to wrestle with his momma. Those are victories. It's the failures I need to overcome. I spent an hour last week having a full out melt down in Kroger parking lot,  because I missed those tiny  humans so much. When do we begin to live in harmony and share our children without making them feel they have to choose?  When does the struggle end and the raising decent humans begin?  Or is this life destined to be both combined? 

I worry what my children will remember of their childhood. What will they look back and see?  Is it going to be mom and dad constantly fighting? Will the remember the tension?  I pray instead they remember the nights we built a fire to today marshmallows,  puddle jumping after the rain,  piggy back rides in the park,  and staring at the Christmas lights from under the tree. I want to finally be at the point where I see a smooth future. Until then,  I will continue to pray. I will pray for strength on the difficult days, courage when I am fearful,  wisdom when I don't have the answers,  maturity when I want to lash out,  and understanding when patience is all they need. I will pray for the ability to see the love given to me,  and not turn it away, the patience to endure the moments if rather run but stand and wait instead. Until then,  I'll just roll with the punches.

Sometimes you have to play the fool...

I'm scared. No, I'm worse than scared.  I am petrified.  I'm frozen.  I feel like Elsa in the movie Frozen! I feel like I'm coaching myself not to feel.  Don't let them in, I keep telling myself.  I spent most of my youth not feeling good enough, the better half of my young adult life feeling worthless and the next few years convincing myself I'm enough.  That doesn't solve my problem. Yes I'm rambling.  The words rattling around in my head won't make sense.  I've been hit by cupid's arrow AGAIN, and I'm just a wreck.  How does the same little cherub hit you twice? Like, seriously, go pick on someone else.  I've tried that one, it hurt like hell! And then I'm reminded that though it hurt like hell, it felt so good and toasty on the way down to the flame.....

I didn't mean to fall the first time.  I had my reservations, but that didn't stop me.  My heart just melted and the rest was a beautiful nightmare.  I woke up hurt, confused, sad, alone, and all I could mutter was "I'm fine."  I wasn't fine.  I was promised the world, and the delivery never came in.  Which brings us to round 2.

My gut instinct was DO NOT RESPOND TO THAT TEXT!  But, like any polite woman who sees a friend in need, I did.  Every woman says she wants a man to fight for her, but what she doesn't realize is they have to test the grass on the other side of the fence to see if it's greener first.  That fight usually comes with an immense loss of trust, too many sleepless nights and tears to count, and the feeling that you will die single and alone.  One day you start to turn that bleeding heart into a stone statue, and when your masterpiece is almost complete, the call comes in.  He swoops in and swears all will be different this time.  He fights like hell.  Question is, do you take part in the battle?  Do you make him pay for his sins? Do you let him see the pain he caused? I think that's the only way to show him exactly how bad his detour was, but then again, it's also opening yourself back up to the destruction.

That precious little heart of stone starts melting the moment you share the experience.

If you're like me and most of the female population, you respond.  You convince yourself you'll be strong.  You won't let him back in all at once.  You will keep your guard up.  Rome wasn't built in a day, but what you failed to see was it sure came down in one! And just like that, he's back in.  The pitter patter of butterflies in your gut begin again, and you're believing every word he says.  I just want to slap myself right now and tell myself that's not love you fool!! That's common sense leaving your body!  I can say it all day long, still not going to listen to the voice of reasoning inside my head.
Only fools rush in right? Hah! No, we don't rush in.  We stampede in like the British cavalry in New England. Ready for war! Ready to ensure our fate doesnt end just like theirs- bullet to the heart and a slow humiliating march back to camp full of defeat. Sometimes you just have to play the fool,  to see who's fooling who.

Beauty is only skin deep

Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly is to the bone, he said.  My heart sank into my shoes the day those words made sense.  He was right.  A pretty face is just that, just a face.  A perfect body is only the product of the work you put into it, but the heart is what makes a person beautiful.  The most gorgeous person can become hideous with one slip of the tongue.  Yet on the other hand, an exquisite personality can make the least attractive a beautiful soul.

The guilt that gossip brings from judging a person's inward beauty on their outward appearance does not escape me.  I wonder,  how did that person get to where they are? Why do they feel ashamed? Why do we look at them in disgust?  I am not talking about the woman that sat on her couch for so long that her skin fused to the sofa.  That is filth and laziness. I'm referring to the woman with the dimples up the back of her legs, the stretch marks around her abdomen and thighs, and the laugh lines around her eyes.  

I am no stranger to any of these "flaws" as we all call them.  I've come to the conclusion they are not flaws at all, but a story to be told.  My body isn't perfect, but it's my skin, and I'm going to be in it for a while.  So, I got very comfortable with it.  I wear the swim suit at the beach.  I've heard some awesome comments.  My own daughter looked at me in disgust when I wore a 2 piece... until I explained what real beauty was.  

Those dimples are a gentle reminder that we enjoy the simple things in life.  I love salad, but I also love brownies.  My momma pouch shows that I would rather cuddle with my babies on the couch than go to the gym.  Those laugh lines mean I have a sense of humor.  Why is that a thing to be ashamed of? There is no shame for me anymore.  The streaks of gray that filter through my hair are like badges of honor to me. The map of Asia around my belly button, that has a hernia in it, is the road map that brought my 4 children into this world.  Those little lines on my forehead and around my eyes were created with character.  I will not belittle the magic therein.  

Time has kissed my sweet cheeks, both sets, and this doesn't bother me at all.  The skin that once had such elasticity is now beginning to melt. The skin that once carried a golden bronze is now practically see through and pasty. And I'm ok with it.  I'm good with it, because I know where my heart is.

Please don't let me discourage anyone who wants to better their outward appearance. But please, do it for you.  Do it because you want to be more fit to keep up with your babies.  Do it for your reasons, not those of others.

I tell my daughter daily that the most beautiful thing a girl can wear is a good attitude.  Love yourself and those around you.  That sparkle will shine brighter than any imperfection in your body. The light of your soul should burn with such passion that no matter what size, shape, color, or fashion could ever attempt to dull it.  Believe that you are not just beautiful. You're dazzling, magnificent, divine, alluring, fascinating, enticing, exquisite.  Don't just say it, believe it.  We are all attractive.  Our bodies are the story of our lives.  Don't ever be ashamed of that, because after all, beauty is only skin deep. Develop a pure heart with love so deep it outshines the sun.  Create the magic around you.  Be daring, be bold, but mostly...be you.  You are perfect.