To My Second

Dear Daire,

 

Two years ago today, you taught me an important lesson about a Mommy's love and how big it could grow (A Second Love).  You changed our world all over again, and filled in an empty piece of our family that we didn't even know was missing. 

I love your spirit.  I love your determination.  I love your "class clown" sense of humor.  I love that you're fearless - even if it does cost me ten years off of my life every time you jump off of something tall...  I love your smile - especially when it's full of mischief.  I love your curly, strawberry-blonde hair.  I love your hugs - little arms wrapped tight around my neck and squeezing me with all the love you have in your little body.  I love YOU.

Your energy and excitement about the world around you makes my heart happy and leaves me confident that you will accomplish anything and everything that you ever set out to do.  While the fact that you don't take 'No' for an answer, push your way through any barriers, and have the athletic prowess of an Olympic athlete at the age of 2 is really quite exhausting for me currently (especially in restaurants, stores, church...in public) - I hope that you keep those qualities forever.  They will serve you well in Medical School...or as a professional athlete...or as a circus performer.

My Daire-Devil - even though you committed the following offenses at your birthday dinner tonight: jumped up and down in the booth, climbed back and forth under the table, shouted "Hellooo!!!" to people in all corners of the restaurant...and in the lady's ear behind us, flung sauce everywhere, got food in my hair, lost your silverware (3 times), destroyed your straw then dumped your drink out on the table, threw the salt and pepper shakers, pulled out my earring and yanked my hair on the way to the bathroom for your "talk," and somehow got choco taco pieces INSIDE of the sleeve of your jacket, which you did not even have on while eating, I still wouldn't trade any of it. 

You're too much fun and have too much fire inside of you for me to wish you any other way. 

Having said that - I WILL be nailing your bedroom windows shut around the age of 13.  And I might homeschool you.

I love you baby girl...always, forever, and upside down.

♥M(ommy)

To My Oldest

Dear Jace,

Today is your birthday AND the fourth anniversary of me becoming a mom. 

You are my "mini-me."  You are my sweet and sassy oldest child.  You changed my world in so many ways.  No pregnancy book, no parenting article, and no well-worded advice from a loved one can ever truly prepare you for everything that you feel when peering down at that tiny little person for the first time.  The one that you loved before you ever even met.  When they handed you to me in the hospital, time stood still and my heart burst with happiness and pride.  It is not something that one person can explain to another; but rather something that one can only experience and then hold onto tightly, forever and ever, as the most wonderful memory of all time.

You came into this world and I looked at you and I saw a new life, a new reason to live every day, a new reason to be a better person, and a new way of viewing the world.  I fell in love with you; and I fell in love with your daddy all over again, too.  I already loved him as my husband, but this time I fell in love with him as your father.  He loves you so much, that it makes me love HIM even more than I already did.

Your birth marked a new chapter in our life that is a never-ending journey of "firsts."  Your first hiccups, your first bath, your first smile, your first tooth, your first steps...the excitement of every little thing you do makes the whole world a brighter place.  I will never tire of celebrating you and all of the things you do, no matter how big or how small they may be.

You fill my heart with joy, love, and pride.  That will never change...even when you are a teenager.  I am your mother and you are my daughter - I will love you forever and I will forever be here for you.

Happy birthday, sweet girl.

♥M

My favorite "birthday" quotes from Jace today:

Me: Hold up 4 fingers so I can take a birthday picture.
Jace: (holds up four fingers, stops and examines her hands) Whoa...I think my hands are bigger...

Me: I made you cupcakes, but I can't find the candles!
Jace: *Sigh* We should have just done this at Grandma's house.

Me: Why did you act scared when they sang "Happy Birthday" to you?!  (Or rather, "Feliz Cumpleaños" since we were at a Mexican restaurant.)
Jace:  I didn't know what they were SAYING to me?!

To My Baby Brother

A big sister is your first friend...and your second mother.

 

 

Dear Josh,

Today marks 27 years since my first best friend was born.  I was only 15 months old, so I'm kind of fuzzy on the details; but from looking at pictures, it seems like we hit it off straight away. 

For 27 years, you have been my partner in crime.  From climbing the kitchen table to eat crayons together as toddlers (THAT was a fun diaper for Mom, I'm sure), to sneaking through the cow pasture to swim in the pond next door as kids (It was worth the whippin' we got all the way back to the house), to covering for each other as teenagers ("I'm sure I have no IDEA what you mean, Mom...") - each adventure sealed our bond tighter.

For 27 years, I made it my job to protect you, no matter how much bigger you were than me. From punching the neighborhood bully in the manhood after he knocked you out of the tree house (I never did get in trouble for that), to using my position as Yearbook Editor in high school to pull a girl that had broken your heart out of class in order to quietly threaten her into staying away from you (I snapped her picture, waved at the teacher, and sent her skank butt back to English class...hmph!), to standing on my tiptoes so I could reach a guys chest to shove it while telling him to "back off" when y'all were fighting (sorry about that) - it was all worth it and I'd do it all again. I will never, ever stop being your champion. Again, sorry about that.

For 27 years, I have felt your pain or failures as deeply as I would my own.  There were times when my heart would stand still when the phone rang, because I was scared of what would change in my world after I answered.  I still have all of the letters you wrote me from 2007, and when I look at them, I go back in time and remember how it felt to thank God every day that I still had you.  It didn't matter how mad you made me, or how badly I wanted you to let me boss you around - I never loved you one itty-bitty ounce less.  Not. Ever.

For 27 years, I have been proud of you when you did your best, tried your hardest, and never lost your optimism or your sense of humor.  I have never been prouder of you than I am now.  You've made some of the best choices in the last few years; and I am happy just for your being happy.  You worked hard and got a good job, married a beautiful, loyal woman, and have a sweet, adorable baby girl.  You are welcome for my approval of the wife (screw this up and the rest of us are keeping her anyway...just so you know) and for all of the charm that your child (obviously) inherited from her Aunt M. 

So even though you used to blame me when you had accidents as a kid (M did it!  She peed in MY pants!), and even though you don't always let me boss you around (even though I OBVIOUSLY know everything) - I wouldn't trade you for the world.  Happy birthday, baby brother!

I will always be your big sister and I will always love you.

♥M

A Second Love

I've mentioned before that Baby #2 is more than just a bomb in your marriage, they are a major upheaval of all that is normal for your whole family-of-three's dynamic.  With the first baby you worry about being a good parent and being "ready" for all the things that a baby brings.  With the second baby, you worry about the first baby.  A lot.

I was totally unprepared, and had never heard anyone talk about, the overwhelming amount of guilt I felt towards the end of my second pregnancy.  I was terrified of what this second child would mean to my relationship with my first daughter.  I was excited about the baby, couldn't wait to meet her, hold her, and love her....and that made me feel guilty.

My daughter was a relatively easy toddler....because she was used to the whole world revolving around her.  She played what she wanted, when she wanted.  Her stuff stayed where she put it.  If she wanted a snack or a drink, she got it within a reasonable period of time.  She was our whole world because she was our one and only.  That was about to change - and she had no clue it was coming.  I did know...and it made me feel guilty.

Snuggles on demand were no problem when there was only one kid to snuggle.  Sharing our bed wasn't really a big deal because when she crawled in between us in the middle of the night, there wasn't anyone to be jealous of her doing it.  Stopping what I was doing to do what she wanted was a habit because whatever else I had been doing was only something for me anyway, and she was more important.  There was going to be another person to divide my attention away from her now...and that made me feel guilty.

The last few weeks of my pregnancy, I actually cried sometimes from the overwhelming feeling of change that just felt as if it were swallowing me up.  Jace was only 2 years old - she wasn't going to understand what she was feeling once the baby came and I wouldn't be able to explain it to her in any way that she could understand at such a young age.  My biggest fear was that my sweet baby girl would think Mommy didn't love her anymore.  (Now I'm crying just remembering it, ugh!)

The night before my Cesarean, we left her with my parents and I cried like I would never see her again.  It was ridiculous.  I was being torn in half between how excited I was to finally meet my new baby and how awful I felt about "abandoning" my oldest child to go do it.  Don't judge my irrational behavior - pregnancy hormones are a real B.

The other thing I wasn't prepared for was the next morning when they held that wrinkled up little mess of a strawberry-blonde that is my second child up to my face, and I got to kiss her little fingers and stroke her soft cheek before they whisked her off to the hospital nursery.  "Oh my God...I just fell in love again,"  I told James. 

I was wrong about my heart being split in two for two babies.  I was wrong about having to give up some of my love for Jace so that I would have enough for Daire.  I was wrong to ever doubt that my heart couldn't hold them both at the same time.

My heart got bigger.

Now I feel incomplete without them both in my arms.  My world is not divided, it is more complete.  I have more love, get more snuggles, and make or buy two of everything.  The first year was far from smooth and nothing if not a learning experience, but we made it.  For every time my heart broke for having to tell Jace "hold on" or "not right this second" because of the baby, it has swelled ten times over when I see them hug, snuggle, share, and love each other beyond words. 

I will always remember that first love, but I couldn't imagine life without my second.

♥M

To All My Friends! (God Help You.)

I've been thinking a lot this weekend about friends... specifically, that I have really good ones.  More specifically, that I'm not always a great one.

I try.  I really do.  For some reason, I have been blessed with friends in my life that remember birthdays, anniversaries, and even if I mentioned having a doctor's appointment.  I suck at remembering my own birthday, anniversary, AND doctor's appointments.

You will tell me repeatedly when and where you are going on vacation and I will still call you that week and ask if you want to go to the gym or out to dinner because I have no idea where you are. I will probably forget to tell you when I leave for vacation and you will likely not know where I am because every time you asked me when I was going away I said, "I dunno...it's written down somewhere..."

I forget to answer texts, return phone calls, and always R.S.V.P. to things a week after the date on the card.  If you e-mail me and don't get an answer in 5 minutes, then it'll probably be 2 days before it happens.  If you tell me something and DIDN'T see me write it on my hand or put it in my phone, then expect to have to tell me again.

 I periodically scroll through my texts and find a bunch of "drafts" where I started to respond to people that had text me but didn't finish or hit send.  They never got answered and now that person thinks I have ignored them. Crap.

If I don't call you on your birthday, then please know I thought about you AND about calling you at least a dozen times that day....but became immediately distracted each time.  I will probably text you at 11pm and try to play it off.

Unfortunately, the thought doesn't always count. Right now there are two cards sitting on my kitchen counter - a thank you card and a sympathy card. They have post-its on them with the addresses of the people I got them for. It would take less than 5 minutes to mail them. They have been there for a month. The thought does NOT count because neither of those people know that I bought them cards. Epic fail.

Despite what all of this suggests, I am actually NOT totally disorganized.  I am just constantly distracted.  And I am not distracted because I don't care.  Quite the opposite.  I am distracted because I care SO MUCH, that I try to do it all and BE it all.  I try to be the perfect mom, wife, big sister, cousin, niece, grand-daughter, aunt, sister-in-law, teacher, co-worker, church member, sorority member, committee member....and friend.  I spread myself so thin that I end up neglecting everyone.  Except my kids.  They're the loudest, so they always get my attention first.

And yet, if you are my friend, know this:  I love you.  I will be honest with you (sorry about that).  I will FIGHT for you.  I will protect you.  I will give you anything you need - even as literal as the shirt off of my back (or my bra - I gave a friend my bra one time....it's a long story).  I will stop what I'm doing to help you.  I will come over and cook or clean for you if you can't.  I will babysit your kids, no questions asked.  (I will not get distracted and forget they're here, promise.) 

I might forget to call you on your birthday.  I might say something overly honest and offend you.  I might embarrass you in public.  (Don't worry - I embarrass myself too.)  You might have to convince me that you DON'T need me to put on war paint if someone does you wrong. 

Just know, however, that my heart is in the right place...and I AM trying. 

So to all my friends - love y'all!  (Poor souls.)

♥M

Not THAT Kind of Dance Mom

My oldest daughter is in her third year of dance and for the most part it's all been a very pleasant experience.  She's always enjoyed it and I've never had to "make" her be an active participant.  There have been moments here and there where I panicked that I was being one of thooooose "dance moms" and pressuring her...like when she didn't want to hold still for me to put her hair up at recital time, or she cried about putting tights on with her leotard.  I feel guilty about those things until she gets to class or goes on stage and I see that big smile and watch how much she enjoys it all.

Tonight was a totally different story.  I don't know if she didn't have a nap, has preschooler PMS, or just had a bad day, but the kid was a mess at class.  She was 100% fine on the way there, willingly bounced into class, then it all just went to hell.  I heard crying and thought "That SOUNDS like Jace, but it can't be...she never cries about dance."  Oh, but it was.  When I went into her classroom she was standing there crying like her heart was broken.  So naturally, mine broke.

Apparently, she was having a meltdown over being in the front row of the routine they were practicing.  Um, what?  I stood there for a few minutes, desperately doing "please stop" hand signals, but that didn't work (shocking, I know).  I waited a few more minutes then tiptoed across the back of the class and squatted down in front of her.  "What's wrong, baby?"  I got zero as far as coherent responses go.  I hugged her for a few minutes...no good.  I took her to the bathroom and cleaned her face and got her to calm down.  She still couldn't tell me what was wrong.

What to do?!  I don't know what's wrong, so I can't fix it.  She wants to go home, but I don't know what the right thing to do is!  I don't want to let her think that throwing a fit gets mom to swoop in and take over!  But I don't want her to cry either!  Uggggh!

I tried a firm approach.  "You have to go back to class. Ballet is over and it's time for Tap.  Your class needs you in there because you're starting recital routines tonight.  If you walk out and quit that's not fair to your friends.  You can't just quit things because you're having a bad time.  We're not leaving."  More tears.  I left her in class thinking she'd dry it up in a few minutes....then paced back and forth outside the classroom door, wringing my hands, listening to her cry. 

Her Ballet teacher tried to comfort her.  Her Tap teacher tried to talk to her.  No go.  The other dance moms were supportive - "She's just tired tonight.  It's Ok, they all go through a phase sometimes."  But I didn't know what to DO!  I was so torn between coddling her to make it all better and trying to "teach" her to be tough.

I took her home.  I don't know if I did the right thing, but I did what FELT right.  I could say it was because I didn't want dance to be ruined for her by forcing her to do it when she wasn't digging it....but the truth is that I just totally caved to my mom instincts and reacted to my baby being in distress.  I really wanted to make a valuable "life lesson" out of the whole thing, but I went weak in the endzone.

On the way home she laughed, smiled, and chattered away.  I lectured her on quitting things before you were done and not always crying to get your way and blah, blah, blah.  She informed me that was "ignoring me 'cause she won't worried about that."  Jesus help me.

Oh, and why WAS she upset to begin with?  If you can take the word of a 4-yr-old about anything after the fact (She can remember what county the fair we went last to summer was in, but has no clue what she did with my car keys just that morning, when I'm late for work) - she was upset because she didn't like the song that the teacher picked for their routine (The Candy Man by Sammy Davis Jr.).  It's a "boy song" and she wants her ballet routine for the recital to be done to the song "I Love It" by Icona Pop.  *forehead slap*

♥M

P.S. Remember those supportive dance moms I mentioned?  So just as I'm feeling really crappy and thinking about all the ways I totally screwed the whole situation up and all the different things I coulda/shoulda said and done...I get this text:

"Loved the way you handled Jace tonight at dance.  You were so loving and maternal.  I have a bad habit of worrying about what others think in situations like that and expecting my daughter to perform and act like a grown-up.  Thanks for being a good example to me...that will stick with me. :)"

Shut the front door, people.  Me?!  A good example?!  I'm not sure I agree, but I am surely flattered and definitely grateful for such kind words.  What a mom-boost!  And who's really the example for who?  As far as I'm concerned, SHE set the example for me - when we think another mom is doing a good job, TELL THEM.  You never know when they may be feeling like crap and NEED to hear something so simple as "Good job, mama!"  ♥

Happy Valentine's Day!

Single or coupled, today's about LOVE!  I choose to think it's not just about romantic love, but a day to celebrate all the people in your life that make you feel special the other 364 days of the year. For me that happens to primarily be my husband and children, but also my friends and other family as well.

A lot of people think that if you don't have a significant other, then Valentine's Day sucks.  If you don't have anyone to make you feel special - then go make someone else feel special!  ♥

Tonight the hubs and I cooked dinner for my grandparents while trying to keep the kids from destroying their non-baby-proof house.  We had a great time, ate, laughed and told stories....then I kissed my kids and hubby goodnight, and they went home.  I'm crashing on my grandparents' couch, munching on some Hershey kisses I found in the pantry, and getting my I.D. channel fix.  I probably should have checked the date on the Hershey kisses, but hey, a little extra buzz off chocolate can't be a bad thing...right?

My grandma says I'm here to babysit them, but I don't have the heart to call it that.  I prefer being called "the muscle."  I mean, I DO workout...

Actually, I just thought my aunt might want to spend Valentine's Day with HER hubs, since she's been sleeping here every night.  I see my hubs every day, and we can go on a date whenever (hahaha!) so what difference does it make if we go out tonight? None. And like I said, today doesn't always HAVE to be about romance, it can just be about the little things that let people know you love them.

So don't mope around if you're unattached!  Once you ARE attached,  you're just as indifferent to the balloons, chocolate, and flowers. They're nice, but I like balloons on my birthday, flowers just because it's Tuesday, and chocolate everyday!

Happy Valentine's Day!

♥M

P.S. If you ARE on a hot date tonight....then get off the Internet and do your thing, crazy!

P.P.S. If your night is more "Hershey kisses & chillin' on the couch" like mine, and you'd like a love story to read in honor of our holiday, then check out these posts! ;)

Another Crazy Love Story: So I met this guy...

Another Crazy Love Story: The Honeymoon Phase

Another Crazy Love Story: The Baby Years

Another Crazy Love Story (Part III)

Part III: The Baby Years

In 2009, we decided we wanted to be a family of three.  In 2010, we had a perfect baby girl, and named her Jace.  Jace was the equivalent of a bomb going off in our lives.  It's very confusing to be in love with each other, then have this little person suddenly take over.  It's not about quantity - you don't love one more than the other.  It's just a different kind of love, but one that's equally intense. 

We survived as well as new parents do.  We were cranky from being up all night.  We learned that trial and error are the ONLY way to learn what makes YOUR baby happy....NOT the 50 baby books on the coffee table or the 200 people telling you how to do everything.  James was extremely supportive when I wasn't able to breastfeed, like I planned.  I learned to let go of my focus on making things go the way I had planned, and instead focus on handling things the way that they went.  Jace made our hearts bigger just by coming into the world.  She was the best thing that had ever happened to us.

The summer after Jace turned one, people kept teasing me, "Time to have another baby!"  I kept saying, "Not yet - We need a bigger house!"  The teasing made me paranoid though, so I took a pregnancy test.  James and I just stared at it for a few minutes....then looked at each other and busted out laughing.  How in the world was this going to work?!  We live in an apartment sized house, and we were drowning in paying student loans!  And yet, we were over the moon excited and couldn't wait to meet Baby #2.  I was, however, fully aware of the fact that I would have to hear those exact same concerns from anyone that we announced my pregnancy to.  I wanted to bask in my joy a little longer...before I had to fend off all of the "helpful" people.  ("Oh my God, you're going to move aren't you?!"  Yes, I just took maternity leave and am pregnant again, so we can definitely spring for new digs.  "How are you going to afford to pay for two kids at the sitter?!"  Well, we're just going to leave one in the backyard while we're at work...it's fenced in.) 

Plus, I was the matron-of-honor in an upcoming wedding, and thought it would be a pretty crap move to announce that I was pregnant in the middle of throwing bridal showers, planning a bachelorette party, and attending dress fittings.  A real "look at me, not her" sort of thing.  Not cool.

Somewhere between month 4 and 5, I casually announced that we were expecting.  It was pretty well received, with the exception of one friend.  She had been having trouble with a second pregnancy, and unfortunately my good news was not something our friendship was able to tolerate.  Looking back, I understand that it was her pain that made her lash out at me; but that there was nothing I could have done to help ease her distress in my "condition."  She saw my unexpected pregnancy as a slap in her face.  She felt that I didn't deserve my baby because I hadn't suffered the same way she had.  It didn't matter that I understood WHY she said the things she said...no amount of understanding can make words like those hurt any less.  I was extremely sad to have lost her friendship, but not everything that is broken can be fixed.  That included the "close as sisters" relationship we had, which I still mourn from time to time.

If it's possible to have two of the "best moments ever," then Daire's arrival was exactly as much of a "best" as Jace's.  She was an even bigger bomb in our lives, however.  The thing about Baby #2, is that they don't just change the lives of you and your spouse....they turn Baby #1's life upside down too.  Poor Jace was so torn between being just as in love with Daire as we were, and also being insanely jealous.  Nothing stayed the same for any of us.  Our house, our schedules, our SLEEP, how we divided our attention...everything changed.  We had the whole "new baby" thing under our belt, but "new baby plus toddler" was nothing short of something I'm still waiting on a trophy for.

The first year of "baby plus toddler" was hard, the second year was bumpy, but now we're hitting smoother patches.  The girls are sharing a room (as opposed to us sharing OUR room...with either of them).  They can both talk now (not always a good thing).  They are both fully mobile (definitely not always a good thing) and decently independent.  The big one can even dress herself!  Woohoo!

Our endurance, tolerance, and patience have been tested daily throughout these baby years, but we do get more sleep than we did a year ago - and THAT is always lovely.  The fact that they are both girls makes for a lot of drama-handling and regular doses of theatrics; but I'm trying to study and gain knowledge daily on diffusing these intense meltdowns....otherwise I'm not sure how we'll all fare through their pubescent years. 

All we can do is march forward, like good parent-soldiers, and take comfort in the fact that we are facing these challenges together.  We'll need each other to lean on in the years to come, that's for sure; because with what I've seen of this parenting stuff so far - it is NOT for those of a weak spirit...or a weak stomach.

♥M

Another Crazy Love Story (Part II)

Part II: The Honeymoon Phase

We might not have had a storybook romance leading up to the wedding, but the honeymoon was perfect.  Sand, sun, drinks, bonfires, sunset cruises...it was perfect.  Well, mostly.

You have to consider that we'd been together for 3 years, and 2 of those years were long distance.  So while we loved each other intensely, we were also used to a certain amount of space... and living in separate towns.  Needless to say, eating, sleeping, and breathing the same air for a solid week became a challenge.  I think it was about Day 6 or so that I actually threw my ring at his head on the way back from the hot tub.  It was obviously something super important and worth throwing my ring over, since I don't even remember what it was.

Then we came home and had the excitement of our first house to keep us busy.  James had spent months gutting and renovating it, and while it wasn't quite complete (we brushed our teeth in the kitchen sink for a while), it was OURS.  Problem is, you can't take two larger-than-life personalities, mash them together in holy matrimony, dump them in an 800-square-foot house in a Mayberry town, and there NOT be fireworks.  Oh, the fireworks.

We are so different and yet so alike, that it's honestly just scary.  We're both loud and fun. (Fun? Or obnoxious....hmmm....guess that depends on YOU. haha)  We're both compassionate.  And at 21 and 22 years old, we were both selfish and stubborn.  (In other words...we were 21 and 22 years old.)  The first year was spent with our horns locked, debating pretty much everything from how to properly load a dishwasher, to what brand of laundry detergent we should use, to who got to pick the paint color for the spare bedroom (since we were OBVIOUSLY not going to agree on one).  Sidenote: no one ever even saw the spare bedroom because we kept it full of boxes until we turned it into a nursery...and repainted it.  Soooo glad we made a big deal out of the original paint color.

My favorite example of how ridiculous we were is called "The Home Depot Incident."  Yes, it has a title.  And yes, our friends know exactly what we're talking about when we cite it. 

Our new house needed a new front door.  No problem, let's go get one.  The problem - we almost got divorced right in the middle of Home Depot over which door to get.  I was determined to have Door A.  James was refusing to concede, and loading Door B onto a cart.  Not to be thwarted, I procured my own cart.

"Put Door A on this cart!"
"I will not.  We're getting Door B!"

I made a fool of myself trying to put the damn thing on the cart alone, then stomped off to find help.  I returned with a guy who put the door on the cart...while James pretended like he didn't know me.  I started towards the checkout line when James sealed his fate:

"You are NOT buying that door."

Ha!  We glared at each other from separate checkout lines.  We attracted some stares in the parking lot as we angrily shoved our respective carts out of the door....and to the same vehicle.  We stood at the back of the truck and finished duking it out until James went and returned one of the doors.  Here's the funniest part - we don't remember which door we got.  I cannot tell you, right now, who "won" and whether we got Door A or Door B.  Again, super important argument.

And yet, here we are.  We're still loud and fun (or obnoxious, whatever)...just at tea parties under the kitchen table now, not sorority socials or field parties.  We're still compassionate...probably more so with other people than with each other, though. (Oh, you had a long day?  So sorry...are you going to change that poop diaper while I'm cooking dinner?)  We should work on that.  That's the beauty of it though, we have a lot to work on but we're not scared to take it on anymore.  We had to quit trying to force everything onto the other one, and just grow up together.  That blog post, 10 Tips on How To Fight Fair?  Yeah, that's all from experience....with doing the WRONG things.  If you don't try - even if you mess up - then you don't learn. 

In my opinion, the honeymoon phase propaganda is a crock.  There's nothing magical about learning all of each other's annoying habits and having to share your stuff...every day.  But if you make it through to the other side, then...you've earned your anniversary, my friend. 

So here's to sleepovers with my best friend every night for the rest of my life!  (Even if he does have a really annoying habit of yanking the comforter off of me while he's sleeping.)

♥M

Another Crazy Love Story (Part I)

Part 1: So I met this guy...

February is a special month to me. (No, not because of Valentine's Day...but I DO love chocolate...)  In February 2004, the planets lined up just right for me to meet someone that turned my whole world upside down.

It was my freshman year of college and I was meeting friends to go out. My girlfriend, Katie, brought her boyfriend, Josh. Josh brought some arrogant guy that way too into his car. His name was James. Our initial encounter included me almost backing into his super cool car...then running over his foot when he got out to see if I'd hit it. I know, I know...you're jealous of my super smooth flirting skills.

Our initial assessments of each other, ("She is so stuck up, dude." "He really thinks he's something,  huh?") did not do anything to deter our fate. We ended up being forced into awkward conversation after finding ourselves alone while everyone else was mingling. That turned into an all night conversation from which no one could tear us away from, and yet we were still loathe to admit that we were in any way attracted to each other.  That didn't stop us from simultaneously harassing Katie in the weeks to come for assistance in "running into" each other again.

We ended up dating. He met my parents.  They were not amused by my new "phase." In their defense, my dating history consisted of 4 years with Mr. All-American. Y'know - straight A's, straight-laced, good-looking guy, played football, went to church every week.  They were unprepared for tattoos, a lip ring, ear plugs, a loud car, and smooth talking tall, dark, and handsome. My dad's career in juvenile corrections made him wise enough to know that preventing me from knowing he even had an opinion was the safest way to help my "phase" pass quickly. My mother,  on the other hand, has always believed that the world is a better place all around when she shares her opinions. (THAT'S where I get that from...) And share them she did. Loudly. And often.

And yet, by 2007, wedding bells were ringing and he was a well-loved part of the family. I had suffered through his ex-girlfriend drama, and he had suffered through my mother. He had suffered through me being in a sorority, and I had suffered through his jealousy.  We both had suffered through spending a small fortune on gas and losing sleep while we traveled back and forth from home and my university to see each other regularly. None of it mattered. We were in love, and not the fairy tale kind - the messy, impractical, die-before-letting-go kind.

Ten years later, we still laugh at how it all turned out. We look at our kids and think "if you had told us about this THEN...we never would have believed it."  But our love is still messy and impractical.  We would still die before letting go of it.

We don't compare ourselves to other people because that's not "apples to apples." No two marriages are the same and mine doesn't have to look like yours to be a good one. I sincerely hope no one compares theirs to ours because you'd go crazy trying to figure out how two border-line Italian lawyers like us make it work year after year.

So sometimes when you're staring at the hubs, picturing his head bursting into flames...all you gotta do is remember that first kiss, and it takes you back enough to kill the urge.

Here's to the growing process that is love!  Now, go smooch your hubs!

♥M

Thank You Letter to My Mom

I found this letter recently and thought I would share it.  I wrote this to my mom back when I was pregnant with kid #1, and thought the world should know what a great lady she is.  Also, it turns out that I can predict the future with frightening accuracy.

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Dear Mom,

        Do you remember that curse that you put on me?  The one where you said that “one day” you hoped I’d have a daughter and she’d be just like me?  Well, I am beginning to fear that that day is dangerously near…

       Before Jace arrives and I can only think to blame you and the curse for my reaping of what I have sowed, I wanted to tell you all of the things that I feel you deserve thanks for.  The things that you may not have even known you were doing for me or dreamed that I would one day appreciate.  This is my Thank You letter for you being such an unbelievably, undeniably, awesome mom.

        Thank you for telling Grandma and Grandpa that you really didn’t think it was in our best interest that they show up every Christmas with three trash bags full of presents each.  Thank you for not paying my cell phone bill in high school, not buying me a car when I turned 16, and not paying the insurance on the one I eventually saved up for and bought.  Thank you for not paying my college tuition or for my apartment rent.  And just when you may be starting to think that I’m being sarcastic - thank you for making me earn the things I had; which in turn taught me to appreciate them even more.  I like to think that by you not spoiling us with “stuff” and “things,” that I, at least, did not turn out to be a monster.  I will not speak for my siblings.  (Just joking...)

       Thank you for teaching me to work things out on my own and to stand up for myself, rather than to blame others or point the finger every time I had a problem.  Thank you for refusing to buy into pity-parties and instead, always encouraging me to find the silver lining, to look at things a different way, or to just push through.  Thank you for not teaching me to respond to ugliness with more ugliness.  Thank you for teaching me that if someone was mean to me, to feel sorry for them, rather than to be like them.

       Thank you for not letting us have friends over until we cleaned our room.  Thank you for going in after us and pulling everything back out from under the bed and making us do it again.  We insisted you were evil, but “Do it right the first time” did eventually stick.

 Thank you for not letting our friends come over if we fought with each other either.  Raven, Josh, and I are probably closer than any other siblings we’ve ever known and we only have you to thank for our special bond and genuine friendship. 

       Thank you for being my biggest cheerleader, even though I rarely made a basket on the basketball court, usually watched the ball sail by me on the volleyball court, and mostly just got beat up by my sensei in Karate class.  Thank you for teaching me that it was okay to fail the first time; as long as that wasn’t the last time I tried. 

        Thank you for making me change my clothes before we left the house when I tried to mimic fashion I’d seen on MTV.  Thank you for not letting me wear blue eye shadow and red lipstick.  Thank you for not letting me date until I was 16.  Thank you for giving me a curfew.  Thank you for always making a point to speak to my friends’ parents when we made plans (even if I did accuse you of being “the only parent on the planet that does this to their child”).  Thanks to your guidance and wisdom, I made it through high school with a clean reputation, no chips on my shoulder, and a strong moral sense of right and wrong, all fully intact…I sincerely apologize for college. 

       Thank you for helping me to become the adult that I am.  I know that it’s got to be weird to see your baby girl grown up, graduated from college, teaching school, married, with a house, two dogs, a cat and a baby girl of her own on the way.  I can’t wait for Jace to get here, and not just for me, but for you - because I can only imagine that after the sweat and tears that you have invested in my childhood, you are greatly looking forward to the sweet revenge of being Grandma!

       I can only hope that I’ve made you proud here and there along the way, and that I can continue to do so.  I am sure that the biggest Thank-yous of all are still to come, as once again (or rather, still) you will offer your guidance and wisdom as I try to figure out being a mom myself.  You’ve always been there, and I know you always will.  Actually, the only thing I could think of that I’d rather be than your daughter, is your grand-daughter, because I am imagining that there will probably be a whole different set of rules for her…

 

Finally, I truly hope, Mom, that I can do you the ultimate justice of being just like you.  My wish is to be as great of a mom to Jace, as you were to me.  I love you.

 Your Grateful Daughter,

 
                         ♥M