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.

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

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.

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

My Dami, My Boy

        I was looking through the pictures I took on our recent adventure back to the home
        state, and realized something.

       My little boy isn't as little as his appearance may lead you to believe.


       I know it sounds cliche, but it's something that truly is just dawning on me.
       My baby is growing up, his behavior is maturing, and he is so incredibly charming for
       a very nearly 8 year old boy.

        It's amazing what two months can do to you as a mother.  Thinking about it now, I can hardly
        believe that I really drove him the 586.7 miles to his father's house for the summer.  And yes, I
        googled it. I'm his mom, what do you expect?
        I don't know what my favorite part about picking him up was.  It's a toss up between
        surprising him while he was watching a movie in his room; and riding the bumper cars with him
        at the county fair (above picture). 



       Anway, back to the epiphany I was origionally mentioning.  Looking through the pictures I took
       while I was in town I realized two specific things that led me to the conclusion my son is
       growing up.

       #1   Last year's trip to the fair was a disaster.... meaning, I was throwing out "the look" left and
              right and constantly threatening that we were "going to leave and no one was getting cotton
              candy!"  This year was NOTHING like that.  Damian was awesome the whole time. 

       #2   As soon as I saw him it felt like my heart exploded.  Not to be mushy, but that is literally
              what it felt like. The sudden realization that my baby boy... my ONLY boy was nearly 600
              miles away from me for 70 days, washed over me like the ocean coming over the sand when
              the tide rolls in.


I'm now currently trying to work out a way to keep my children this little forever. The best idea I've came up with though is telling them to stop growing. To date, this doesn't seem to be working..... Go figure. 

So dear invisible audience of mine... When did you first realize your little one wasn't as little as you believed them to be?