Life Lessons Don't Take a Vacation

Summer's over kids and your mom has taken quite a long break in her writing. I'm sorry for this.

With the change in our routine, the separation, and craziness; I've kept myself preoccupied and busy with various projects and new hobbies.

And in all honesty I'm coming off of a massive case of writer's block.

However, I learned something very valuable and as I lay here at nearly 10:30 at night, I can't seem to allow myself to sleep before getting it out. So here it goes.

Sometimes in life situations arise that test you. They test the goodness in you, my loves. A test that may seem easy when talked about, but proves to be so much harder when you are in the throes of it.

My resolve was tested this summer. In a way that I'm admittedly still struggling to come to terms with. Not because of regret, not because of anger, but because of genuine hurt and confusion.

It's led me to realize one major flaw of myself that I am learning to embrace. Sometimes things are better left to work themselves out. I am a person who more often than not, cannot leave unresolved issues lay. I try to hard to fix things and end up making a bigger mess than the one I started with. This time, I'm being good. I'm leaving it where it's at and letting fate take over.

I'm accepting the situation for what it appears to be and that's because of this important tidbit of information I'm about to pass on to you.

So without further ado...

Someday a person may come to you in their time of need. I'd like to hope at a moment like this that all you can think about is how much you genuinely care about this person. How much you love them from the depths of your soul. Without question you know that you will be there. You will help them. Even if it tests your patience, your sanity, and your ability to see past the flaws in yourself and them.

Sometimes you are put in the middle of someone's path for a reason. You may not understand why, but it is there, hidden just outside of view.

Sometimes these moments will give you (seemingly) nothing in return. Please, guys, listen to your mom when I say do it anyway.

Sometimes through your dedication this person gains so much more than they had. Even if your role is minute in their outcome, a piece nearly unrecognizable in the panaromic view of their life. Do it anyway.

Even when they walk away after and never speak to you again. Revisit why you said yes. Rethink the place you were in. The genuine love and desire to help and do it anyway.

Never second guess the role you play in someone else's life when the part your playing grows from the goodness in your heart. You cannot go wrong when you begin with pure intentions.

If events unfold and this person fades away, it's okay. You didn't get involved to reap the benefits. If you were expecting something in return then that is a reflection on your character, not theirs.

Find comfort in knowing that when someone needed you, you were there. There are so few people left in this world who think of others before themselves. Be the ones who do good solely because it is the right thing to do.

I promise you, you will love yourself so much more for it.

All of this can be said for people you don't know, too. Help that woman trying to console a screaming toddler who just dropped an entire bag of groceries on the parking lot pavement. Rush to open the door for the elderly couple barely standing upright with the support of their walkers. Stand up for that kid, that adult, that animal, being bullied.

Do it and you will feel your heart grow. You will sense a lightness in your step and your goodness will touch the lives of those fortunate enough to witness your act of selflessness.

It is so easy to give into comfort. So easy to turn your back on someone because it seems as if their drama; their problems; their situations will be an inconvenience to you. Don't be that person. Don't give into the negative kiddos. You are so much more than that.

I pray that I instill a compassion in you so big that it lights a fire under your ass anytime you see someone being selfish and cruel. I pray that I give you a good enough example of how a person with a good heart behaves that it touches the lives of every person you ever meet.

While you may have had a summer vacation, and I may have pretty much taken the summer off of writing for this blog. There is no vacation from truly learning all life has to offer. Lessons come at you at every turn. When the last thing you can think about doing is turning and welcoming these lessons with open arms.... Please. Do it anyway.

All my love,
Mama

My Hope For You

In two short months three of my children will be celebrating birthdays. In three we will be adding our final family member. How is it possible to feel so much joy and sadness all at the same time?

Each year I notice more and more that time seems to be moving faster. Soon summer mornings will be filled with my voice urging you to get out of bed. Making breakfast will become a thing of the past since I'm sure I'll be lucky to have any of you up before noon.

Days spent annoyed because I'm answering a seemingly endless stream of questions will be filled with the longing of getting you to speak to me without an eye roll and a shrug of your shoulders. Dolls will be replaced with ipods; imaginary tea parties with bickering about your sisters not staying out of your clothes; legos with phones; and cartoons with music videos.

You are growing up my loves. More independent every day. Nap time has become chill time for all of you but one, and soon that peaceful quiet time of my day will be gone altogether. You'll want to leave to visit friends or to hang out at the park. My heart will ache and I'll hold back a tear for the babies who are long since grown.

With your advancing years will come new struggles and challenges. Both for you and for your father and me. Our parenting mottos will change and we'll have to scramble to figure out the new set of tears flowing down your sweet faces. We'll have to control our desire to deck the first boy or girl who breaks your heart. Or bite our tongues when we hear your anger at your current "bestie" because of the malicious and untrue rumors that they have started.

We will have to learn how to guide your self image so no matter what your peers say, you always see how beautiful and special that you are. Right now, my loves, you are still so young and impressionable. It pains me to admit how scared I am of the years to come.

How someone like me can raise you to be confident in your skin; respectful to all you encounter through life; and motivated to reach your fullest potential. Someone like me, who cared way too much about the opinions of others. Who ignored and disobeyed my own parents at every turn. Who never embraced the opportunities I had in front of me.

But, I carry on. I do it because I hope for you. I have hope that our constant reminders of your intelligence, your confidence, your beauty, your wonderful little hearts, will always be ringing in the back of your minds. When the doubters come to you. When you face the people who refuse to see what's inside of you. I have hope for you.

My hope for you will outlast my body kiddos. It'll be there when you are old and gray and having your own hope for your children. My hope for you will surround you on your worst days. When you can no longer hear my voice urging you on, you can read my words and feel them touch your heart.

My hope for you is never ending. My hope for you will endure even the darkest moments of your lives. The moments when your judgement lapses and you've hit rock bottom. My hope for you will help raise you up because you will know that I don't expect perfection. My hope for you is that you live your life always staying true to yourself. My hope for you is that you find your joy in life and ride it through the rest of your days.

My hope for you is to know that you will always be my babies. Even when your skin begins to wrinkle and your hair takes on a silvery hue. When your eyesight weakens and your body starts to give. My hope for you is you never forget you are the most beautiful gifts in my life.

Why Size Really Doesn't Matter

My favorite mommy blogger has been known on several occasions to post that any amount of kids is a lot of kids. I couldn't agree more with this observation.

It seems like no matter how many children I have welcomed into this world, my hands have somehow always remained full. Each time I was convinced that I couldn't do it again, I have surprised myself with my flexibility.

I'm a part of a pregnancy group on Facebook and have repeatedly seen the conversation come up to whether or not the women in the group are finished after this baby, or if they plan to have more. It's pretty enlightening reading the comments about how many kids these families have and their reasoning behind being finished. Some moms are content with two, some are currently cooking number six and still remain undecided.

The biggest thing I commend these women on are their abilities to not look down their noses at the women who have accepted that they don't want a large family. The ones who have realized they are stretched thin enough with the one, two, or three that their family currently have.

Which brings me back to the statement that any amount of kids is in fact, a lot of kids.

With my personal circumstances I always knew I wanted a large family. Being around kids a lot in my youth I felt confident in my ability to maintain composure in the face of the chaos that comes with them. I have since learned that I am definitely equipped to handle the Brady Bunch of children I have, but maintaining composure is a feat that I need to cut myself some slack on. No parent is perfect and that's okay.

Truth is, my hands were full when it was just me and my son. I lost my cool a lot with his energetic self. He has a personality that is go, go, go all of the time. So I can completely understand those who have decided that their one child is enough for them.

My hands became slightly more full when my second daughter came. Her personality being the complete opposite of her big brother gave me confidence that maybe I was figuring this whole mom gig out better than originally thought.

Then naturally with each additional child I grew in my understanding of motherhood and realized how much each kid's individual personality affected that. I had my doubts about what I could handle, but for the most part believe I've done a pretty good job of rolling with the punches. I started to question if there ever would be a number that I would deem "too many" for our family.

I know scary thought right?

Well good news, this mother has definitely reached her limit. Not in the sense of finally realizing that there are too many to handle, but because I know how thin I can be stretched before my older children start to lose the individual attention that they deserve.

Every child deserves to feel special to their parents. They each deserve an equal amount of one on one time so they can create memories with their mom and their dad unique to that of their siblings. My younger children will never get what my oldest has. Four years of just him and me. Four years of creating a very special bond.

Six kids, is enough. Too many for some, too few for others. Determining which side you see for that is solely based on individual preferences and I, for one, celebrate that.

I will never be a mom who hears a mother of two (or even one) venting about the stressfulness of motherhood with a condescending stare down of "imagine having six." Mama... You do have your hands full and I'm here if you need an ear to let those frustrations out!

One person's struggle will always be another's walk in the park, but that doesn't mean that we should spend that stroll judging each other.

I sometimes see or hear comments made by mothers expressing how they just knew two children was the right amount for them. Being human, I get a fleeting feeling of self consciousness about what these women must think of a family like mine.

In reality, these women are doing what is best for their family, and their opinion holds no merit in what is best for mine. I wouldn't trade the blessing of my six children for any amount of sanity or free time in the world. They are worth it a million times over.

So, yes six kids is a lot of kids. But one, two, five, ten, nineteen are all a lot as well. Kids are the most (and best) work you'll ever put in in life. Embrace what you can handle and never let anyone make you feel like your hands aren't full. Household size is a subjective endeavor when discussing how many are too many. Stick with what works for you!

Because One Time I Almost Lost

Today I want to talk about something difficult. Something that very few people know about me. Something I've kept silent on for a long time for fear that my weakness would be exposed and that I may be looked at or treated differently.

I'm sharing this with you today because I need to. I need you to know you aren't alone. As alone as I felt. I need you to know that there is hope. That you matter.

Many years ago, I was lost. Constantly surrounded by people, but always alone. There was a darkness in me that I couldn't hide from and trust me I tried. I spent everyday drinking and smoking this darkness away. Trying to mask it's devastating affects with the help of little blue pills.

One day it almost won. One day I had decided I had had enough. My best friend was dating the person I was in love with. I had dated him for two and a half years before he broke up with me to date not only her, but my other best friend as well. 
He was dangling our "love" on a string trailing it behind him for six months after he ended it. Seeing them but seeing me too.

I was young I know. Naive and stupid. Not really sure what real love is. But I felt something so strong for him that it made me blind to what was happening.

Everyday I went to school I was high. 
I couldn't sit still in class from the uppers I was taking. If it weren't for the colored contacts I wore I'll bet my teachers would have caught on. My pupils took over my eyes. The artificial coloring helped mask the craziness that anyone would see if they had actually been looking. 

It was a cold day in January. A fight between me and this man pushed me past anything I could've ever imagined I'd feel. I sat in my bedroom. Music blaring, tears flowing.

So I tried.

I couldn't tell you how many pills I took. Or how long the belt was tied around my throat. I can't remember how long I laid there before I came to. I can't describe the hopelessness I felt. I was a failure at love. A failure to myself. And now a failure at finding a release.

I was more lost than ever. How would I ever explain to my mother where the marks on my neck came from?

She never even noticed.

I spent the next couple of weeks letting loose. I went wild. Nothing left to lose I no longer cared about anything.

Two weeks after my failed attempt I got so wasted I lost an entire weekend. To this day the stories people tell me still don't register in my memory. I don't remember anything past the alcohol, past snorting the klonopins, past making it to my house with a handful of friends.

I woke up two days later to my mother standing over me. Telling me I wasn't going to spend another day in bed. Then she was gone.

Two days later my life changed.

Two days later I found out I was pregnant.

Fear isn't even the word I would use to describe how I felt. The guilt for everything that I had done washed over me in an instant. What had I done?

It was in that moment where my failed attempt at release started to make sense. It was my first step in my journey towards God.

To say I was fully reformed would be a lie. While my battle with drugs and alcohol was over in that instant, I was still at war with this feeling of hopelessness and despair. Probably more so without their numbing release. 

My son helped me through the thick of it, and I had a temporary bandaid-like fix because my pregnancy brought me and his father back together. Which at the time, I thought was the only reason I was feeling the way that I was. Looking back, however, it's clear to me I was in a volatile relationship. We brought out the worst in each other. I had no filter when I saw red and everyone knew it. He was a master at getting me to that point.

Two years five months after my failed attempt I found myself at yet another low point. After enduring so much negativity in my life. Everyday we fought. Everyday I heard that I was a terrible person and a terrible mother. He was still chasing my best friend. I sat back and watched. Believing that this was all that was meant for me. Believing that I indeed deserved the treatment he gave me. Believing I wasn't a good mother.

It was June. My son wasn't quite two. His dad told me he was going fishing with our friends. That I wasn't allowed to go even though all of my friends were going as well. A fight ensued to the point where the police were called.

He went fishing, I called his brother to see if he could take our son. Which he gladly did. I was devasted. Swirling in the darkness once more. Lost. Alone.

I sat staring at a cup of bleach. Bawling. I wrote out a long letter to my son. Begging him for forgiveness. I'm sure if I looked hard enough I probably still have this note somewhere.

I gathered every bit of courage I had and raised the glass to my lips.

" Please forgive me."

There was a knock on my door.

It was my mom coming to see if I was ok. I told her I was, but I just needed to be alone and I sent her on her way. It took me nearly thirty minutes to gather up the courage to bring that cup to my lips again.

"I love you Damian."

There's another knock at the door. My son and his uncle.

I dumped the glass and put it away and opened the door.

I found God that day.

While many would brush this off to coincidence, I can't.  I can't believe that a coincidence would knock on my door at the precise moment I'm ready to succumb to the darkness. Not just once but twice.

I can't believe a coincidence would allow me to just wake up that moment two and half years ago and walk away with only a few marks on my neck and a massive headache.

My life didn't change overnight, but my heart did. I stayed with him for a couple more years. Trying to make it work for our son. Believing it could. It couldn't.

Now looking back I see that every rough spot I went through, I went through for a reason. I had to believe my life was worth something. Even if I couldn't measure it in my own mind. God wanted me here.

If I would have succeeded at least two lives would have been forever changed. Four lives wouldn't have even came into existence. I wouldn't have been able to share this with you.

I would like to believe that my life has touched many others in the eight years since. That I have made a profound difference to at least one other person. I believe with one hundred percent of my being that God put me here because I am needed.

You are too. You may not be able to see it right now. You may be lost and scared like I was. You aren't alone, I promise. You matter to more people than you realize and you owe it to yourself to reach out to them. Some choices can't be unmade, but they can always be worked through together.

If you're having trouble talking to someone you know, the suicide prevention hotline is available 24/7. 
1-800-273-8255

Only You Can Determine Your Self Worth

Small confession before I begin this post. I do not feel fully confident in giving relationship and/or marriage advice. Not because I don't feel like I have an amazing marriage, but because I don't feel like we have put in the time it takes to make one qualified to say.

That being said, I have to get my thoughts out here. I have been in two major relationships in my life and they were like night and day.

My first relationship lasted from 2001 until 2008. He was a few years older and I was incredibly young. The premise of every parents nightmare really. My parents were otherwise occupied with work and their own marital problems though, and being the youngest of four children I got pretty good at sneaking around.

I look back at that relationship and the only question I ask myself is why?

Not why did I date him; not why did I try to grow up so fast; not why didn't my parents stop me; but why didn't I stand up for myself?

I was not perfect or without blame in the Hell that was our relationship. I was a teenage girl. For those who know what that's like to be or live with, I'll bet you're nodding in understanding right now.

To say I was bipolar and crazed would be an understatement. We fought from day one. We didn't care where we were or who was around, we fought. I wouldn't leave him alone either. That was a huge mistake on my part, but it was like this uncontrollable magnetic charge that completely prevented me from letting him walk away from me.

Sure, he was mean. I remember it vividly. He said horrible things that he knew would cut me deep. However, he always managed to do it in such a controlled way that no matter what I was left to look like the psycho. People I thought were my friends began making me and his relationship the center of their conversations. Never knowing both sides of the story or seeing the insane things he'd do to me.

We split briefly in 2003 for what I thought was his chance to gain custody of his son. It turned out to be six months of him and I not officially being in a relationship so he could date not one, but two of my best friends. All the while still seeing me in secret. Yeah... It's honestly embarrassing to admit.

This is what happens when you are a little girl trying to pretend you're an adult. A fifteen year old has no business chasing after an eighteen year old with a two year old son. But there I went, heart on my sleeve, running as fast as I could.

Life changed quick when I got pregnant and had our son in 2004. The foolishness of him chasing both my friends dwindled down to just one. Bonus, he was nice enough to only occasionally do it in front of me. Lucky me.

He moved in with me when I was six months pregnant. Me with this naive notion that all of our problems would disappear once we were living together and our son was here. Instead I was left with the choice that he could leave during the day or he could leave at night, but he was going to leave one way or another every single day.

I look back and I think about every opportunity I had to say No. This is not how you are going to treat me. And how many times I just didn't. It took me so long to realize that I did deserve better. No matter what anyone else thought.

I didn't stand up for myself until 2007, when my best friend and I moved in together. Looking at him and telling him I was moving out was one of the most freeing moments of my life. I had waited six years for him to show me that I was worth fighting for. He did... For two months. Long enough for him to move in to my new place and then we went straight back to where we were. Hearing cunt more than Megan.

The worst part of all of it and what eventually brought me to my senses was all of this; every fight, every push, every name that was called, random thing that was thrown; it all happened in front of our little boy. That poor innocent child that had no say in what was going on.

Our final split and my eye opening transformation came in 2008. I went through a huge life change and our relationship ended as it was meant to. All of that year was spent figuring myself out. Reflecting over the idiotic mistakes of an inexperienced and impressionable teen girl.

I spent all of my teenage life trying to skip it. I didn't realize it until those years were over, but it is exactly what I did. The summer I turned thirteen and gained the tiniest bit of freedom I was immediately drawn to kids three to four years my senior. I immediately acted like I was grown instead of embracing all that was in front of me as a kid.

My first boyfriend turned into a seven year relationship that produced my first child. I know that everything was meant to happen that way because my son changed my life, but I can't help but feel cheated out of my last five years of childhood. I unknowingly cheated myself and it is a regret I hope to prevent my own kids from repeating.

The one major thing I have going for me with this goal is being with a man who is the complete opposite of my ex. Our relationship started with me knowing exactly what I wanted and how I expected to be treated. It started with a let's see how this goes type of attitude. We both had just ended major relationships within the last few months and we were in no hurry to jump into another.

Alex and I had known each other years before, being neighborhood friends at age five. Our hometown is unique in the sense of being very small, but divided in half by the Indiana-Ohio state line. For the first three years of him living in our town he lived with his Aunt at the end of the alley behind my house. We spent a lot of time playing together before he moved across town and went to the other school.

My mom was a consultant of sorts for the few years he lived close. His mom and aunts loved the home decor she sold so I spent a lot of time coming with her to the parties they'd throw. During this time Alex and I grew very fond of each other and little did I know then that we both had developed our first little crush.

We lost touch once his family settled into their new home. Only to be reunited twelve years later through the power of the internet.

I knew from our first conversation that he was different. Everything felt natural. He asked for my number and when I gave it to him I said you can call now if you want. Being the ass that he is, he responded with something to the effect of whoa now let's not rush things. I was embarrassed to say the least and let it be known. He called and apologized saying that it had been a joke.

That was my first taste of how our relationship would go. Never being able to be mad at him because he can always make me laugh.

We spent the first three months testing the waters. Spending late night hours watching corny movies and eating pizza rolls and tator tots. Not wanting outside interference or to confuse my kids we didn't spend anytime together during the day. No one knew who the person was making each one of us happy. Though everyone spent many weeks trying to guess.

I know now that that is exactly what we should have done and I'm so grateful we did. By keeping our budding romance to ourselves we gave us a real shot. We got to know one another. We got to talk about what hurt us in the past and what we didn't want for our future. We got to have our space to remember that we still needed it. We spent time together because we wanted to not because we had to.

Sure no relationship is without its downsides. We are not perfect all of the time. We do have to put work into us and the problems that we have. The difference between this relationship and my last though is overwhelming.

My husband never calls me the c word. Ever. In fact, I could probably count on one hand the amount of times he has called me a bitch and we've been together for six years. His biggest flaw in our arguments really is the amount of effort it takes to get him to talk at all. His response usually being I just don't know what to say or I don't want to make it worse.

We didn't even have a "real" fight until about six months into seeing each other and our second came probably six months after that. We bickered and disagreed sure. Still do a lot, but it is easy (for the most part) to talk it through and move on. We both remember what is it we want and that is each other.

It's effortless to love him and I have never once thought to myself that I don't think I can spend the rest of my life with him. We've never publicly blown up at one another or disrespected each other outwardly. We are playful towards one another and tease each other all the time. We are united in all things that we do. We remind each other daily that we're in this for the long haul. We have a forever kind of love.

Alex knows how to treat a woman. He tells me everyday that I am beautiful. Everyday he gets up and works hard so I can be home with our kids. Every day he comes up to me wraps his arms around my waist and whispers I love you in my ear. Everyday.

He has his faults and I have mine, but together we bring out the best in one another. That's how I know that we have a relationship worth fighting for. When I got with him I told myself I would never again allow a man to make me feel worthless. Never again allow a man to tell me that I didn't deserve to be treated well. That I wasn't worth spending time with.

Alex has never made me have to remind myself of those things. He has never put me down. This is why I ask myself why I put up with it for so long with my ex. How I could have allowed someone to tell me I was a horrible mother and person. I remember so many hurtful things he said and did to me and I remember so many times I cried and told him I would change. The mere fact that I considered even once being the person who needed to change in that relationship makes me ashamed of myself.

Sure, I did need to change, but not in any way that he told me I needed to. I needed to change by becoming a stronger woman. Being someone who developed a damn backbone.

The hardest part was convincing myself that I would survive without him. That I was worth so much more than what he tried to make me believe I was. Years of being told I wasn't good enough or any other person who I tried to get with would treat me the same made it nearly impossible. Once I did though there was no turning back.

I found out that being alone wasn't the worst thing that could happen. That year I spent being a single mom was the best gift I could've given my children. They got to see their mom transform from a doormat to an independent happy woman. I gave them the opportunity to grow up in an environment free from watching their mom suffer from mental and emotional abuse.

My kids get to see what it's like to have parents who love each other more than life. Who are more than just a husband and wife, but are best friends. Who laugh together and bicker; who are affectionate and childish; who respect one another and give each other space. It's an amazing feeling.

We are still very much in the early years of our marriage. I have several years ahead of me before I feel like I can begin sharing the secrets of what it takes to make it a success. I just wanted to take the time right now though to say that I know what it feels like to feel defeated in love. To wonder if there really is a man out there for me. One that won't make me feel like something's wrong with me and instead make it feel like my whole world has split wide open and all the possibilities are poring out in front of us.

I want anyone reading this right now who feels even the slightest bit relatable to know that the only person standing in the way of your happiness right now is you. I don't say it to be mean, I don't say it to make you feel bad about yourself, I say it because you need to hear it. Being alone is terrifying, but being with someone who doesn't treat you like the incredible person that you are is by far the worst thing you can do to yourself.

You have to sit back and take a long hard look in the mirror. Do you know what you deserve? Because I do.

You, my dear, deserve the world. Please, don't let anyone make you feel like you don't.

Realizations of a Social Networking Mama

Socializing has come a long way since I became a mom. Discovering I was pregnant was not met at any point with the thought of when to make it Facebook official. Or any other equivalent social networking site either. Eleven years ago Pinterest, Instagram, and Twitter weren't around, and Facebook had literally just come about.

I never gave any thought to unique and exciting ways to announce my pregnancies. Or tried to pick the perfect timing. Nor did I consider celebrating the milestones of my kids' childhood this publicly. Or open up my family's life like I've done. However, today that has become a big part of the decisions I make all the time.

It's as present on my mind after I see those two little lines as "oh crap when was my last period?" This thought may not be relatable to everyone; but living so far away from the majority of people who matter in our lives, I honestly can't help it.

Social networking is a huge part of my family's day to day. Some days I'm perfectly okay with this, some days not so much. I accept, however, that this dulls a lot of the pain for the grandmas missing their grandkids right now. So I will continue to do so.

My kids' grandparents, greats, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends get to be a part of their lives because the power of Facebook. To me that makes it worth it.

Since these sites have become increasingly popular over the last few years it's hard to ignore the desire to join in on the fun. Even not being far away from family and friends.

With my last two pregnancies and my own increased use it has become more apparent that there are so many ideas I wish I would've recorded for my first four kids.

Exciting pregnancy announcements, gender reveals, crafty celebration pieces for your home, milestone markers for ages, grades, life events, all things I never thought about until I became addicted to Pinterest. All things that now that I'm adding a sixth child to my brood feel slightly less exciting to share.

Seriously. How many people are enthusiastic towards a mother of five inviting you to her gender reveal party for baby number six? How many enjoy seeing the many growing belly shots of yet another pregnancy? How many people care what you're craving? Or what's happening in this week of pregnancy?

Now swap out mother of five with first time mom. Tell me I'm not the only person who can see the difference?

Google "pregnancy announcement for fifth child" though and see what you find.

I think it would be awesome to be a first time mom right now. The ideas you have at the tip of your fingers because of social media are endless. So for veteran moms like me it's kind of sad missing out on moments like these.

I know. I know. There are many people out there who couldn't care less if this is your first or your twelth. Babies are either exciting or they aren't. But, being a veteran mom, expecting yet another bundle of joy, I can't help but notice how silly I feel posting anything about the milestones of this pregnancy.

Maybe it's because there aren't many new and exciting things that happen when you've been pregnant as many times as I have. Sure there are plenty of new things that can happen, but "new" is usually never coupled with "exciting." It's usually more in the ballpark of horrifying, hellish, or at the very least unpleasant.

When I scroll through my news feed and see the updates of a first time mom, I can't help but feel nostalgic. The wonder of the unknown, the joy of what's to come, the nervous anticipation of what to expect. All amazing parts of experiencing child rearing for the very first time. Or even the second or third for that matter.

When I see the awesome YouTube videos, the amazing photography ideas, the effort and love that reaches all corners of the earth; I battle the urge to be overflowing with happiness for them with being incredibly jealous.

When it comes time for your fourth, fifth, or sixth, to me, it seems like you aren't expected to act as happy.

Having another baby are ya? You do know what causes that right? Were you trying for another baby? So who's getting fixed now?

Questions people seem to think are perfectly within their right to ask. So imagine the reaction to that group picture you're trying to take with everyone saying "Saaayyy Susie's Pregnant!" Instead of the usual "say cheese." Sure you're going to wind up sharing some interesting expressions, but how many of those are going to be looks of excitement instead of the again? faces.

Now, do any of these feelings of hesitancy stop me from pinning four hundred pins of baby gear, announcement, and photo ideas on Pinterest? Hell no. A good idea is a good idea. At worst, I just owe my older kids an apology for not doing as many awesome activities through the early years with them. My bad kids. I was a newbie at the internet.

Facebook and Instagram become a whole new arena though. Being that these two platforms are specifically designed to socialize on. As much as I try to I can't get over feeling like no one cares about how big my belly is, what week of pregnancy I'm on, if I'm craving gummy bears and French fries, or what piece of produce my unborn child is measuring in line with this week.

I want to proceed on my way capturing these moments regardless. I just feel reluctant to share my excitement with those I connect with online. And yep, it is my Facebook and yes I can post whatever the Hell I want. I'm just considerate of my friends and I do take the time to decide how well a post will be received before I put it up. You're welcome by the way.

So I suppose to the other veteran moms who feel this way, I say to you, screw everyone else. Yeah, I don't share as much as I probably would've been able to with my first or second, but I'm not going to refrain altogether. I will go on about the next several months celebrating this new life I'm adding to my family. And for the record, I am one of those people who are excited to see any new addition you have to your family as well. No pregnancy will be identical, no child the same, so do whatever you want during this time.

With all the negativity in the world it is a welcome change to see so much positive in your life. And I will stand by my desire to see a growing bump next to a chalkboard before another damn bathroom selfie any day of the week.

Embrace each moment because the way I see it, it may not be your first child and you may already have one of each gender, but this very well could be your last experience as a pregnant woman. This may be the last time you feel the kick of life within you, the last time you have an opportunity to blame all the nasty moods, excessive sleeping, weird food cravings on something other than just being a strange and crazy person. Document and share at your leisure because you have the ability and no one has the right to make you feel like you shouldn't.

Why My Husband Says He Hates Me When I'm Pregnant and I Completely Understand

One thing I believe every mother can agree on is how much men just don't get it. The havoc creating life can wreak on a woman's body is mind boggling and miraculous. But when you're in the throes of it, it only feels like tourcher.

I've never pretended to be an easy person to get along with. I'm highly emotional even during the calmest times in my life. I wear my heart on my sleeve and analyze even the smallest statements directed towards me. It's not something I'm necessarily proud of, but it is something I've accepted about myself. I feel too much.

At this point you would think my husband halfway knows what to expect. For the most part I guess he does, but it's a very superficial type of understanding because he just can't wrap his brain around the amount of work my motionless body is doing. He doesn't understand why I can't just suck it up and push myself to get things done that need to be done.

Maybe I've spoiled him? Or maybe he's just as stressed out as I am?

I wish like hell I could stomach standing at the kitchen sink long enough to tackle the foul smelling collection of dishes that have piled up over the last few days, but I just can't. I wish I could cook a fabulous supper and enjoy the one moment of the day where my family is all together, but I just can't. My stomach won't allow it. My energy won't cooperate. My body hates me right now because it's focus is where it should be: On creating new life. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow is as good a day as any for me to have a "good" day. My body may decide to loosen the metaphorical umbilical cord and allow me a few gulps of fresh air.

This isn't a post to bash my husband nor one to write my pregnant self a pass. It is to acknowledge that right now I'm a barely functioning, hormonal nightmare; and my poor husband reacts accordingly because he gets the shittiest end of all of it.

We have gone through a lot in our six short years together. Seven pregnancies, 3 miscarriages, relocation, estrangement, death, financial hardship, everyday stress. Our marriage isn't perfect. Thankfully, neither of us expect it to be.

When I break down crying because he hurt my feelings he's rightfully confused. He didn't really even say much of anything, but I read between the lines and forgot to cut him some slack. He can't fix what's going on with me right now and it bothers him. I'm his wife. I can tell.

When my emotions are too much for him he snaps. He looked at me the other day and point blank to my face said "I hate you when you're pregnant." I won't act like it didn't cut me deep. Because it did. More so than any other thing he has ever said to me. But I've thought about it a lot and I realize I hate me when I'm pregnant too.

Whoever thinks pregnancy is some marvelous experience that opens you up to how strong and amazing you truly are has clearly only been pregnant once or twice. Or is some freak of nature that never experienced the real "joys" of pregnancy like morning sickness, sheer and utter exhaustion, and mood swings from hell to name a few. Don't get me wrong. Having a baby truly is a gift from God, and the good parts always outweigh the bad otherwise why would I put myself through this for the umpteenth time?

I can only speak from my experience and I'm just not a nice person during this time.

Memories of Your "Mean Mom"

You know kids... One day you'll read this and memories of me will come to mind. Sometimes those memories won't be very pleasant and I think we should take a minute to explore that.

As well intentioned as I may be, sometimes I'm slightly ... Let's say, unbalanced.

Sometimes the crying and the arguing; the 12:30 am wake up calls from the puking five year old; the stabbing pain from misstepping while walking through the Lego minefield that's been on the bedroom floor for the last three days; and the tiny little hands that have permanently attached themselves to the side of my leg throws something off inside me which in turn makes me a not-so-nice mama to be around.

As much as I want to take a deep breath and find my center before addressing the unfavorable situations we find ourselves in, I also know that trying to pass on a logical solution to a four year old is going to go over about as well as vacuuming our lawn.

The reality is sometimes your mom has bad days. Bad days that make me your "mean mom." Bad days that cause you to roll your eyes and stomp your feet. Days that make you scream and cry and threaten to run away and never come back.

Sometimes I lose my shit and say things I don't mean. Sometimes those things are more funny than scary, like the time I told Penelope that if she didn't let me brush her hair I would just shave her head. Sometimes those things are more mean than helpful, like the time I told Lydia to stop throwing a fit about her shoes and look for them because if I found them first I was going to leave her home alone.

Others may not see the gravity in the things I've said to you, but Lydia your gentle heart broke at the thought of being left behind. My frustration in trying to get everyone ready so we could leave and still not being ready myself made me lash out unfairly at you. Sure, you really did need to stop walking around in circles crying because it was clearly not helping you. But, I could've started asking where you looked and gave you places to check to help the situation instead of leaving you in a panic from the unfair ultimatum I handed out instead.

There are many times I yell first and ask questions later. Times I don't give you a chance to explain yourself before I say "I don't want to hear it, go to your room." There are days you get in trouble for stuff your brother or sister did and had no control over. Or moments I am disappointed because I expected more from you than what (in hindsight) was reasonable.

I know one day when you read this you'll remember the mom that was angry and belligerent. The mom who told you to shut up and leave her alone. The one who only wanted five minutes of quiet before she lost it. The one who made you feel like an inconvenience instead of the incredible blessing that you've always been.

I wish I could give you a childhood free of these experiences. I wish I could picture a future where you read this and say "what in the world are you talking about mom?" But I'm realistic kids. Your mom is a basketcase. For better or worse.

Someday, you'll have your own unstable moments. Moments where you snap at that mini version of you. The one who isn't really the reason you are frustrated. The lack of sleep and non stop go, go, go energy that radiates from them will grate on your nerves and the exhaustion will get the better of you. You'll hurt that sweet kid's feelings.

At the moment it may seem like the biggest parenting fail of your life. I promise you it's not. I'm not a perfect parent you guys. As your memories may remind you. But my imperfections don't lessen the amount of love I have for you. They just make me human. Just as they do for you.

Fact is guys, there's a lot of things I may not do right. There's probably a ton of things I could do better. But, being a parent is not about appearing like you always have your shit together. It's about providing an example of embracing all parts of who you are as a person. Accepting you are flawed and showing how to push on, admit when you're wrong, and strive for better.

And sure sometimes "angry mom" could be avoided. But sometimes "angry mom" is the result of you kids acting bad as Hell.  Sometimes I can't handle that tantrum over your marshmallow being smashed. Or the fit because I can't make the sun move out of your eyes. I'm sorry that's the best corner of the couch, how about you scootch it over an inch and ta-da no more sun in your face.

Sometimes I can't deal with one more mess. The kid that is covered head to toe in baby powder, or toothpaste, or marker. The make-up that is wiped all over my mirror and carpet and clothes in my closet. The lake you've created on the bathroom floor and fishing toys out of the toilet.

Sometimes I just want you to get along. Stop touching your sister, stop making that humming noise your brother has repeatedly asked you to quit for the last five minutes. Stop taking that toy, or that spot, or that blanket. No one cares that you wanted the red plate. Not the blue, not the yellow, not the green. The red. Babe, they all have the same food in them.

You kids have been the greatest blessing God has ever given me. You have gotten me through so many of my own self doubts and you have made me a better person than I thought I could be. So when you reminisce about the kind of mother I have been all I ask is that you remember, you outnumbered me six to one. Please be thankful you survived. Lord knows I am.

Love you all forever and ever,
Mama

For the Future Moms

Hey you. Yeah you.

The woman over there with the heartache in her eyes. The one who's breath catches just ever so slightly as she watches her friends coddle and gush. Smile on her face, longing in her heart.

I see you, you beautiful soul.

The lady who's face lights up as she cradles her best friend's newest piece of joy in her arms. Daydreaming about her future. The one who feels the emptiness in her gut as she wonders when her time will come.

I see you.

I see the pain in your face you try to hide. Hear the wavering of your voice as you wish congratulations to yet another person's exciting news. I feel the ache in your presence.

I can't pretend to understand your pain. Nor can I relate to the struggle you've endured. But, I respect the agony of what a day like today can do to your soul. The confusion and anger you must feel. The unrelenting desire you can't seem to satisfy.

I see you.

I wish I had the answer for you. A way to make it happen. All I can say is that I pray for you. For God to see inside your heart and fill it with the one thing that is missing. The one thing that you'd give anything for.

So on this Mother's Day, I want you to know that today is your day too. For you future moms. For you stand in moms, the moms whose hearts love so unconditionally that they are full for children they haven't even been blessed with yet. The ones who love all children because that's the only thing in them to do.

One day I pray you have the blessing of a little hand to hold. A little tummy to soothe. A nose to kiss and a world to light up.

Until then darling woman, I see you and I root for you.

Happy Mother's Day (future) Mom.

Life Is More Than the Choices We Make

I found myself talking to a soon to be mom the other day. She is struggling with what to do about allowing her abusive ex's family to have a relationship with her child. After reading my past post she said it had given her a lot to think about, but brought up another very good question: How do you go about handling a situation where the father just doesn't want to be there? 

I don't speak much on the situation with my eldest daughter. The older she gets the more frustrating dredging up the past becomes. Don't get me wrong, the day she brings it up on her own I will be open and honest with her. At six years old though each conversation with other people make me worry that her conversation will happen way before it's time. 

So this conversation with this soon to be mom, even through messaging, made my heart race. It made me realize that there is something here worth writing about. This is my truth and yet another lesson to pass on to my children. 

We make choices everyday. Some large, some small. The small ones I've found are usually overlooked and disregarded. They become more a part of a daily routine than something seen as deliberate decisions that are mapping out our future.

Naturally bad choices tend to stick with us longer and leave a larger impact on our view of life. Personally I've made my fair share of bad decisions. While some are pretty huge, most of the time they weren't nearly as disastrous as I initially thought they were. In fact, they've usually always led me towards something better.

One could say that I wasn't making the best decisions around the time I became pregnant with my daughter. I was in a pretty rough arrangement with my son's father and wasted no time seeking out comfort from an old friend when our relationship went on hiatus.

After being with the same person for six years of my life, I was vulnerable and probably a teensy bit impulsive. However, this one decision led to something that changed my life forever: My daughter.

When I mention bad choices I would never associate negativity with the decision to spend the night with this friend. While it may not of have been the best decision for a lot of other reasons, it was never a bad choice for me. I was young and learning about life. Just as I still am.

The situation wasn't ideal. From the beginning my friend wasn't thrilled about me being pregnant. He reacted with a rush of this can't be happening and you can't have it. I'm sure it turned his world upside down. 

I was persistent though and since this would be his first child, fully believed he'd come around. For that reason I always left the door open. I wasn't naive. I wasn't fantasizing the notion we would start a relationship and have a family. I was realistic in the sense that two people don't have to be together to be parents. He just didn't share the same vision.

However, my choice put my life in a whole new light. I had a recently ended relationship with a man I had been with forever. We had a beautiful three year old son and I was scared. My bad choice was allowing him to believe there was a possibility this new baby was his. I just didn't know how to look at the person I had spent six long years with and admit what I did.

I told myself I'd tell him. I'd be honest. I just needed the right moment. We were moving into a new house and trying to work on our relationship so in the beginning it just wasn't it for me.

He found out in March 2008. Two months after I got the positive. He confronted me, I panicked and just lowered my head and told him. Yes it was true.

My bad choice led the only man I'd ever loved at the time, out of my life. At first it was scary and I was angry with myself for getting swept away in the heat of the moment. I was ashamed of my choice and terrified of what was to come.

But, my bad choice also led my life towards discovering a version of myself I never knew existed. I learned how to stand on my own two feet. I learned that I deserved more despite what others thought. I learned that everything happens for a reason. 

This new awareness led me to the best man I've ever known. It took nearly a year for him to find me, but who knows how life would've turned out if I wouldn't have made the choices I made. If I wouldn't have had the opportunity to do the growing that I did. 

If I would've been honest from the beginning my ex and I may have made the decision to take it day by day. We may have drug on a volatile relationship for another five years for all we know. By being selfish (because I recognize I was) I hurt him in such a way that he had no choice but to walk away from me. I respected his decision then and I do to this day.

I made the choice to try to involve her real dad and his family from the moment I discovered I was pregnant. And for a good while it was like being on a roller coaster ride. One minute everything looked hopeful, the next he was hateful and distant. I battled this until she was eighteen months old at which point I accepted that her father and her only father would be my (now) husband.

Alex showed up in her life when she was five months old and even before we were officially in a relationship he wanted to be there for her. He respected my decision to try to make her real dad a part of the picture even if he didn't like it. My only hope was that she knew where she came from. It took a while for me to realize that, that didn't matter.

She is nearly seven years old now and the most tender hearted kid you'd ever meet. Her real dad took some time growing up and reached out a couple of years ago. He now keeps a respectful distance as a Facebook friend. We have an agreement to one day allow them to casually meet. Our hope is that one day, should Lydia ever ask me questions; should she ever have the desire to seek him out; he won't be a stranger to her.

Most find it shocking that after everything we've been through that I would be so allowing of him seeing her. The only way I can explain it is to say that it isn't about how I feel. It's about how my daughter may feel someday. I am no psychic, but I recognize the possibility of turning him away and the very real feelings of anger that could cause in my daughter. She will never look at me and know I kept anyone out of her life that truly wanted to love her.

It took a long time to get adjusted to the number of parents there were in my kids lives. It wasn't an easy path and I still find myself questioning choices that I make. However, that will never stop me from believing that I'm giving my kids their best chance.

God has blessed me with three men who share the same vision for my kids as I do. Even if it took some time to get us all on the same page. And even if I didn't always see it or appreciate it. There was a purpose for our paths crossing and I am reminded of that purpose daily.

My family situation may seem backwards to some. It may even seem like a nightmare to others, but I honestly don't care. My choices have given me experiences in areas that have made me a stronger woman. These choices, good or bad, have shown me what is worth fighting for and shown me how far I'm willing to go for the people I love the most. More importantly, my choices have made me a better mother to my children.

I've found that our choices don't determine the kind of person we are. Our reactions to the consequences of these choices do. You can either spend your life sulking about the messes that sometimes come with your decisions; or you can accept it and start planning out what to do to get yourself back on track. You can live in denial or create a new path. You can avoid responsibility for your decisions or own up to your mistakes and start making amends.

Life is what you make it. Don't spend it in regret and avoidance. Unless of course you enjoy being stressed out and unhappy. Make the choice to learn from your mistakes and to grow from the decisions that at first seem like a bad idea. You never know the good that can come from them until you give them the time and respect they deserve to develop.

When Home Doesn't Feel Like Home Anymore

I was blessed enough to live all of my first eighteen years in one home. The majority of that time with both my mom and my dad. I was allowed to roam my neighborhood as a young elementary schooler. I got to play with the other children pretty much daily.

I'm sure there were problems in our town. Though I can't really name any specifically. Luckily for my generation there wasn't a huge drug problem; or vandalisms; or violence; or burglaries. Or countless other issues you could run across today.

My early years were spent running through backyards with my friends. Riding our bikes up and down the street. Not a care in the world. Unless, of course, you were caught riding across the resvoirs at the street department. Or climbing around on the salt piles where our road ended.

But, being kids we never really cared what anyone had to yell at us. Like the old man that always seemed to appear when we were doing exactly what we weren't supposed to. Most of the time, we rolled our eyes and hurried along our way. As all children tend to think, there was no way that disaster could befall us. No way that we were going to fall through those giant white slabs and drop down into the rushing water below.

My adult self now incredibly thankful that our neighborhood had such a sense of community. In those days, the "it takes a village" mindset really was in full effect and I can't even begin to fully imagine how this aided in keeping the children in our area safe. I don't remember seeing parents hovering over their children because they didn't. We knew our boundaries and tested them sparingly because we knew our asses would be had if we pushed them too far.

We weren't afraid of someone pulling up and trying to lure us away. Our parents weren't concerned that we'd befriend someone who would introduce us to street drugs. The worst thing you may find discarded was a random beer bottle in an alleyway.

Every summer those boundaries we were given stretched a little farther. Bike rides became longer adventures to explore the unknown. Still no worries of strangers lurking in the dark because we were too focused on our destination.

Frequently heading north on the alley behind my house because we'd wind up at my favorite candy store, Westfall's. Ran by a nice couple who typically knew exactly what I wanted. A small brown paper bag of tootie fruities. Blue, pink, green, and purple. And never skimping on the peachies and gummy worms.

By the time I was a teenager I became pretty familiar with many areas. I spent summer's with friends at the local swimming pool. Hung out at the pizza place on Union street playing pool and socializing. I spent many summer night's walking through town carefree and enjoying my youth.

Fast forward to now and I'm amazed at the differences I see. I know it isn't exclusively my hometown that has felt the affects of our sickening society. But, I also know that not every city has felt it quite as harshly as mine has either.

I can't remember locking our house one time growing up, let alone our car. If you chose to do that now, however, you might as well send invites to the criminals to anything of value that you own. And please forget letting your children roam the neighborhoods now. Even when there isn't a fear of a pedophile or kidnapping, you have to worry about them finding discarded needles from the junkies that inhabit the town.

When did this happen? When did the people in our town become some destructive and selfish?

The saddest part about moving from my hometown hasn't been missing my family and friends. It's been having to be so far away and watch helplessly as the place I always connected with love and growth morphs into one of drugs and violence.

I may not have always appreciated the place that I am from, but as I have grown older my focuses have grown as well. Things that didn't matter to me way back then mean so much more now.

When I start reading the local news articles from back home it makes me realize that I can't fathom allowing my children do half of what I was allowed to do when I was a kid. This small town is going to Hell in a handbasket and it breaks my heart. The worst of it being that the names that I constantly read in these news segments are familiar names of those I use to know.

I can close my eyes and think of numerous memories of us living it up as kids and my brain hurts knowing where that lead them. It makes it real to me. It makes me thankful I grew up and chose a different life. It makes me wish there was something I could do to help them.

So instead I turn to this. A small message from me to them, from me to whomever really.

It takes one moment to make a decision. A decision to change your circumstances. It's time to stop making excuses for your behavior and start accepting that what you are doing right now isn't just affecting you and your family, but the entire town you live in.

Heroin and meth are a big deal. Addiction is a real thing. Overdosing is a real outcome. You are ruining lives. Including your own. If your "friends" and your family won't take the time to be honest with you about your choices, I will.

You are selfish. You are irresponsible. You are wrong. You are not, however, beyond help. Nor are you doomed to be a bad person for the rest of your life. Make a choice to do what's not only right for you, but for the people around you. I believe in you.

I want you to know it isn't entirely your fault. A lot of you are victims of circumstance or are socially predispositioned to venture down a specific path in life. I recognize there are so many pieces of you that are enriching and thoughtful. Focused on growing and stablizing. There are parts of you that are flourishing and helping those around you. I just wish with all my might that you would spend more time putting those focuses forward.

Life goes by in what feels like an instant. What kind of society are you setting up for your children to live in? Imagine that one day those drugs you push through wind up in your teenager's veins. Imagine that it wasn't them that put it there, but a "friend" who pressured them to do it. Imagine a call from the police that your child has overdosed and is being rushed to the hospital. Imagine planning that baby's funeral.

This isn't extreme. This is a reality for countless families. Right there in our town.

It's time to grow up. It's time to say enough is enough. It's time to start thinking about other peoples right to exist in a safe and drug free environment.

Whether your selling, using, or just looking the other way, you need to recognize you are part of the problem. Reach out and ask for help. It doesn't make you weak. It makes you someone to be admired. Someone who is strong enough to know when they can't do it alone. Someone who a person can respect. Get serious about your life before it's too late. 

I have hope for you which gives me hope for our town too. It exists in the people striving to clean the mess up. People that are trying to bring life back into that place of love and growth. That place etched in the heart of our inner children. The place that we should preserve for our own children. The next generation growing up on the same streets we grew up on.

Creating new memories there shouldn't include drugs and crime. Our ten year olds shouldn't know where that syringe on the ground came from. Our eight year olds should be able to play in their own backyard with their neighborhood friends without their parents having to keep surveillance on the area. You should be able to trust your friends and family.

As clichè as it sounds, every person really can make a difference. Chances are you know someone who is having a rough time. Whether it's their own fault or not doesn't matter. Spending all your time and energy focusing on the problem (those people) instead of a solution (getting them help) is only spreading gasoline on the fire. It's time you put fault aside and reach out. You could be the person that turns someone's life around. Which in turn will slowly begin to revive our town.

The town with which, in it's current state, I could never imagine bringing my own children back to. The town that currently holds so many of my loved ones whom I worry about everyday. The town that I so fondly remember. The town that will always be my home even if right now it doesn't feel like it.

Spoiler Alert : I Yell At My Kids ( And I'm Not Ashamed )

I don't know about you, but my days seem to always find a theme. Sometimes I notice it right away, other times the theme becomes apparent when I'm settling in for the night and reminiscing over the day's events.

Today's theme reared it's ugly head by 8 a.m. by which time every single one of the kids had already been yelled at.

Yeah. I'm a yeller. I have two modes really, yell and yell louder.

I threaten and send to bedrooms. I get exasperated and over explain. I ask rhetorical questions and try (mostly without success) to not lose my shit. I am not a perfect mom and usually feel incredibly bad afterward. But a lot of times I don't. And I'll tell you why.

I know that I could handle myself better. That I could close my eyes and count to 10. Or remove myself from the situation. Sometimes I definitely do, I mean everyone has their limits. My children tend to test mine frequently. I know I could "use my words" as I often advise my children.

But do you know what I never do instead?

I never put down my kids.
I never shut down their emotions.
I never get physical.
I never judge them.
I never forget to apologize when I'm wrong.
I never forget to point out what they did right.
I never forget to say I still love you.

Sometimes my overly emotional (currently hormonal pregnant) self reacts first and thinks later. Sometimes when I say shut up and find something to do, what I really mean is I love you child, but I'm in a bad mood and need you to find something to do before I go insane and take everyone with me.

I know they're young and are still learning, but please forgive me for noticing that kids are assholes. Even my adorably innocent bunch who I'd walk through fire for.

I refuse to beat myself up for losing my cool when they push every button I have before my morning cup of coffee has even started to get hot. On days where I'm more of a referee than a parent I feel like it should be completely understandable that I need to yell to be heard; and even more importantly, believed. Especially when my voice has to carry over the five heathens shrieking and squawking at my feet.

Getting down on myself isn't productive for anyone. I can tell you where feeling overly guilty and constantly doubtful leads you; to the corner of Anxiety Pkwy and Depression Ave. Been there, done that, not going back.

I know sometimes I'm not the best mom I could be, but I never doubt that I am a good mom. Despite spending the first several years of motherhold being openly judged and ridiculed for my decisions. I chose to stop letting others opinions dictate the way I parent my kids.

Reality is harsh and wanting to protect my kids from it is a natural instinct. However, there are certain realities that I knowingly expose them to. One being that sometimes the only way to vent your frustrations is to open your mouth and let it out. That, of course, isn't a go ahead to verbally abuse someone, but it's my way of saying it's normal to lose your shit every now and then.

Many may disagree, but I will embrace that decision to the fullest. Just because my view is different than some on how these realities will affect their future selves will never make me feel like I'm wrong.

So while I'm over here barely hanging on by the loose thread at the bottom of my yoga pants, my kids are tiptoeing through the house so as not to disturb the resting beast. Maybe not the best way to win over all the Mommy Shamers who may criticize my techniques, but I'm completely ok with that. At least for the moment I'm sitting in quiet, relaxing my now sore vocal cords.

Getting Past the "Step" in Step-Parenting

I had someone ask me awhile back how long it took me to stop seeing Aubrie as my stepdaughter and begin feeling like she was one of my own. It was a question I should've expected to be asked eventually I guess. I just hadn't thought about it yet. 

The more I consider the posts I write to what my heart feels compelled to share I realize that this is more than me writing my family's history. More than something to leave my children one day. This unorganized, raw glimpse into my family's life is for people who are struggling to make sense of their own family life.

We aren't the conventional family. I don't have all the answers. Very few in fact. I do have loads of my own personal experiences and beliefs that I feel very strongly about. And being Aubrie's mother is definitely one of them. 

So when this person posed the question I had to think about it for a moment.

I'm not sure there was ever a conscious choice for me. It wasn't something I decided, it was something I felt.

I was head over heels for her father. She was born seven months after we had started seeing one another and those seven months were nothing like anything I had ever experienced before. My husband treated me like a queen from the very beginning. So naturally when I saw him cradle her in his arms and watch him fall in love with her in an instant, my heart swelled. Not just for him, but this perfect extension of the most incredible man I had ever met.

This man who had taken my daughter as his own only months before.  Without expectations of being with me forever. He fell in love with her and saw that she deserved someone who would put her before themselves and he was more than willing to be that man.

We have a strong commitment to family. Our children's feelings come first in all decisions we make. When you ask me how did you get to that spot? How did you overcome feeling like just another person in her life? I just smile and wonder how could I not?

These children didn't ask to come into this world. They didn't ask for us to be the people who watch out for them. She surely didn't ask for me to be her mom. Just as Lydia never asked my husband to be her dad. Life however, takes us places we never knew we always wanted to be. You don't make a decision to start loving anyone, why would you think you would do it for a child?

There aren't "step" parents in our house. We are parents. Pure and simple. Does my son have a biological father? Of course. Is he in the picture? Yes. Am I Aubrie's biological mother? No. Does that make me any less of a mother to her? No.

We are parents to our children regardless of the prefix. Step, biological, adopted, doesn't matter. They all end with "parent." A child doesn't put a distinction on something unless it's learned. If you acknowledge that you are different then you are. But, if you accept your family for what it is then they will too.

All families are unique. I understand that not all parents involved get along (trust me). I know that sometimes kids can be difficult. Especially when they are older and adjusting to something entirely different than what they're use to. But every choice you make will lead you in a direction that's hard to come back from. You can make conscious decisions based on what you think is easiest or you can lead with your heart and do everything you can for this extension of your spouse.

Life's greatest gifts are our children. They give the world a promise of tomorrow. If we damage them by holding them in the middle of our conflicted feelings we start a cycle of negativity not only for them, but for those they encounter throughout their lives. The biggest expectation I have for my children is that they live their lives putting what's right before all else. Even when it's the unpopular choice. Even when it is hard as Hell. Even when they know it's going to change their lives forever.

Yes, loving Aubrie as my own was the right decision. More importantly though, loving Aubrie as my own was what my heart told me to do. I may not always trust my thoughts, but I always trust my heart. I am one of the lucky ones who didn't decipher between what was easy and what was right because in my case they were the same thing. It was easy to love her. It was easy to accept her and best of all my actions easily led her to loving me too.

So in my own long, roundabout way I hope I answered her question. In a day and age where we are constantly bombarded by labels I implore you to consider removing yours. You aren't a stepparent. You are a parent. So be a great one. 

I Accept That

Kids equal drama. Period.

Now they aren't the same "drama" as that bitch from high school everyone remembers. But they are drama nonetheless.

They can test the limits of my sanity and make me question everything I ever thought I cared about. Like seriously, how much sleep do I really need?

Oh who am I kidding? A lot. I need a lot of sleep. Do I get it? No. Do they? No. So what usually follows? You guessed it!

Drama!

There is no drama like that of a sleep deprived four year old. There's no test more grueling or more mentally taxing than trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind that long-drawn-out-barely-audible-whine-between-sobs that my daughter produces when she is pissed off and tired.

And God forbid I mumble a confused what? At the end.

As her mom I am apparently supposed to be connected on a deeper level than what I originally thought. I mean yeah, when she hurts, I hurt. When she's happy, I'm happy. But telepathy? Come on now. I am not a mind reader and she hates it. I accept that.

In a way I totally get where they are coming from. I mean I would be over the moon excited if throwing a hellacious tantrum in the middle of my bedroom got me everything I desired too. In short, however, life doesn't work like that. In fact, life gave them a mother more stubborn than them. They can scream until they explode for all I care.

Sometimes they don't get to wear the jeans they want because I didn't do the laundry yesterday. This may be the end of their world, ya know? Doesn't matter that these jeans are clean. They are slightly baggier than the other ones.
They hate them and me for making them wear them. I accept that.

Mornings like this they sulk and watch me from afar with a death stare that truly rivals my own. I can feel the anger resonating off of them from a room away. I don't know whether to laugh or be terrified of what's to come. Let's face it, I made them, it was bound to happen eventually, but this soon?

I never prepared myself for the day I would unknowingly compete for the last word with my ten year old. But, that happened yesterday.
I never gave thought to the day my six year old would become so emotionally sensitive that she would cry from me asking her what she just said. But, my daughter is a sensitive soul.
It never crossed my mind that one day my kid would look at me with a meaner face than my own. But every one of them have and I realize they all get it honest.

My kids are full of attitude. Piss and vinegar some may call it. Even when they push me to my breaking point, I couldn't be prouder that each one of them speak their mind. I'm raising kids with backbones. So drama naturally follows. I accept that.

I've come to realize a few things about drama because of them. Family drama is usually produced from love and can be a wonderful thing. It can be an opportunity to grow. Outside drama usually stems from jealousy and is the complete opposite. It hinders and can sometimes even kill relationships.
That's why sometimes I intervene and sometimes I let it unfold. Family drama still makes me behave like a crazy person and mostly lands me the title of "Meanest Mom Ever." But, I accept that.

A Letter to My Children

To My Children,

The other day I questioned myself. I questioned my instinct to react first, think later. I'm not so naive to believe this is the first time this question has crossed my mind, but today it definitely did. Not because I lashed out violently towards someone, but because I didn't consider that my words may impact those I would never wish to hurt. As good as my intentions are people perceive situations in their own way. They interpret words in their own unique process. I questioned my capability to truly put others before myself, in the smallest of moments.

So kiddos, this question made it imperative to me to leave you with a small list of motherly wisdom.

1.  It is never what you say, but the way in which you say it. Never be so naive as to believe your words won't leave a mark on the people they touch. I know I've never given you a golden example of self control when it comes to anger management. But darlings this is one of those listen to what I say ignore what you see me do types of situations. Your mother isn't perfect and over the years my sharp tongue has put me in a lot of different predicaments. Once something is spoken it may be forgiven, but it probably won't be forgotten.

2. When in doubt sleep on it. No decision worth making has to be made instantaneously. Decisions worth making deserve careful consideration. Anyone who pressures you either way does not have your best interest at heart. And while you think of all the good that will come to you, remember to think of the bad. They go hand in hand, my loves.

3. Sometimes our lives take wild turns. Despite our best effort to prepare for the unforseeable, God is and always will be in control. Don't fear what lies ahead of you, but embrace it with an open heart. Appreciate the moment you're in because as fast as it came, it will disappear.

4. You must love yourself before you can truly love another. Everyone is self-conscious kiddos. No one is so full of confidence that they aren't afraid of judgement. The trick is not letting the opinions of others skew the love you have for yourself. It's this love that will enable you to fully give yourself to someone else.

5. Some people live to rain on other people's parades. Everyday you have to make the choice of whether you are going to carry your umbrella today or dance in the rain. I won't pretend that this world is perfect. There are bullies everywhere. They hide in the darkest of corners, but also prance around in the most beautiful disguises right in front of your face. I can't protect you from the hurt that comes with them, only tell you a bully will always show their true colors eventually. It's up to you what will happen next.

6. Ask questions. No matter the situation. Job interview; meeting someone new; the waitress at your favorite restaurant; you're in a rough spot. Always, always, always ask questions. It's incredible what you can learn if you take the time to ask one simple question. Never forget knowledge is power.

7. When all else fails don't forget you have family. Your dad and I love you more than you will ever know. No matter how great or how bad it is, we are here for you. God gave us you; but he also gave you us. You will never have to walk your journey alone.

Everyday you grow just a little bit more. You learn something new, you test the limits of what you know, and you create magic that I wish I could freeze and keep forever. I apologize for my shortcomings as your mom, but I hope you realize those mistakes are helping me grow too. Just as I'm trying to mold you into the amazing people I hope to see you become one day, you have been molding me into the mom that you deserve. Please kiddos, don't grow up too fast on me.

All my love,
Mama

13 Quirks I've Accepted Since Having Kids

So I'm at it again folks. I'm in a self discovery phase I think. I keep having random realizations about myself and feel compelled to note them. I suppose nothing seems amiss with this except I apparently then feel compelled to share these ideas with the public. 

Today's realizations came after a conversation with a close friend. A fellow mom with a larger than average family. A mom who gets me and these habits I've had to create in our house to keep my sanity. In retrospect I really didn't realize these..... well, let's call them quirks, became ingrained in me. Nevertheless they have made their mark deeper than the shiny pink scars etched slightly left of my belly button.

1. Everyday I pick my battles. This did not happen over night and some days are still better than others, but I can tell you there's quite a difference in what I deme worthy battle material between my first kid and my fifth. It's simple really, once I became outnumbered I decided it isn't worth the stress. So by all means Dimitri go right ahead and eat that cookie off of the ground.

2. Spongebob is not a babysitter. However, after playing twelve rounds of the ever popular game 20 questions I no longer care if they melt their brains with television for the next three hours just please stop talking.

3. No, I didn't brush my hair today. I no longer use myself as a reference of how successful of a day I've had. (I can see my hubby mouthing 'shocker' now). As long as my kids have made it through another day in one piece, I'm doing a pretty satisfactory job in my book.

4. This smells clean. I have accepted that a family of seven builds up a couple loads of laundry everyday. I have not accepted the responsibility of doing those loads of laundry everyday. General rule of thumb in our house - if it doesn't have something smeared on it, you can wear it at least one more time. If not two.

5. It's called "chill time." Spend a day in our house and the biggest thing that will stick with you is the noise level. After several hours of yelling, giggling, running, and stomping this mom of five has to have a break. Since I get it's pretty dumb of me to expect a 10, 6, and 5 year old to take a nap with their younger siblings they just have to play quietly in their rooms for a couple of hours. Assuming they can make it through that time without falling asleep or me hearing them in general, it's the second best time of my day. The first being bed time of course. Ha!

6. I fake play hide and seek. Really I do this to kill two birds with one stone. First, I'm getting in some fun me and my wild bunch time. I mean, they don't know I have a hidden agenda so to them it's a ton of fun trying to figure out what crazy spot I've wedged myself into. Second, the hidden agenda I spoke of - I can eat the ice cream I've been hiding in the back of the freezer without fear of being caught and having to share.

7. Yes, I did say that. Let's go back and visit number 5. Remember me talking about you spending a day in my house? Good. The second thing that would probably linger in your mind are the crazy things you've heard us say to them. One example being my husband or myself calling our children feos (ugly) about a dozen or more times. Notice their reactions? How they didn't burst into tears? Or get angry? Or really seem to notice at all? That's because our kids aren't little bitches...oh I'm sorry I mean our kids aren't little bitches. While others may consider this the very definition of bullying our children by name-calling, we say it's character building. Words only have the power you give them.

8. It's not really a lie. The tooth fairy's small she gets lost a lot. Keep it up and I'll call Santa. I have to do that because it's in the mommy rule book. All phrases I have uttered to my children at one point or another. All things I consider to be parental tales of love. I fib because I care.

9. You're my favorite. This may seem crazy to some, but it works in our house. I've never seen my children more amped to finish all of their supper or clean their entire bedroom or see who can be the quietest until I introduced "which one of you will be my favorite today?" Since it's all in good fun they can get pretty competitive, which can be hysterical to watch all in itself. Plus, it may or may not be rigged so everyone equally becomes my favorite by the end of the week. Please refer to number one.

10. I will make a scene. This is twofold really. On one side, the kids have finally accepted that if they act a fool in public, so will I. On the other I will call out any person in public if I feel like they have over step the boundaries that keep a peaceful existance between the world and my family.

11. I don't play the tattle game. If you aren't bleeding, broken, or on fire. If there's no shattered glass, giants puddles of liquid, or messes by the dog. Then my children know what I'm going to say. I do not care. Figure it out. Tattle again and you'll be the one in trouble. If I play this game even once it never ends.

12. I'm a habitual idle threatener.  My kids are starting to figure out I'm a lot of talk with a little less action. But with the better part of 14 hours spent everyday being more of a referee than a mom I'm doubting how much I care. So for your amusement here are some popular threats I'm known to throw out - If you don't find your other shoe, you aren't going. If you punch your sister one more time I'm going to punch you. I will knock you out in the middle of this store if you throw one more fit.

13. I'm my worst critic. At the end of the day I know that I'm doing the best I can. I'm not proud of every parenting moment, but I am proud to be me. For every time I'm hard on my kids I am twice as hard on myself for being that way. I have to remind myself I'm shaping future little people not future assholes and then I feel better.

Having a large family forces you to accept a few things about yourself. Traits that the average individual may not appreciate. Traits that may cause strangers to gawk and family to gossip. That may make you question yourself and stress, but I really need to take a moment and say this energetic, slightly batty tiny little lady right here gets it and is screaming a hearty "welcome to the club!" all the way from a little farm town in Iowa, USA.