Sometimes the Right Path Isn't Always the Easiest

Okay mommies. There are some things I need to get off of my chest.  Some things that have been bothering and building up in me for a long time. I hope you have the time to listen and the open-mindedness to take my words to heart. If not for yourselves, for your children.

We all want to do right by our kids. Keep them safe, give them a good future, great memories. We marvel at their beauty, enamored by everything that they are. So naturally everything we do starts with what in our minds, is what's best for them.

But I pose this question, how can keeping a piece of your child away from them, be what's best?

Now I realize that there are always certain situations where this is the best thing for your child. But, I refuse to believe it is in as many situations as I've seen.

What piece am I referring to, you ask? Your child's father.
And in many cases any family attached to that father.

Listen mamas. At the end of the day you are responsible for your child's well being. Physically and mentally. It's so easy to think of the here and now. Hell my 2015 resolution is based around living in the moment this year. However, when it comes to my kids, I juggle absorbing every moment I possibly can and trying to imagine how my decisions are going to impact their future selves simultaneously. It's a juggling act that never ends because as I mentioned above, everything I do is done with what is best for my children in mind. 

Now, let's not misconstrue things. I am by no means a perfect parent. I have made my fair share of mistakes in my ten years as a mom. Because as I just stated parenthood is full of juggling acts beginning with learning how to juggle.  Naturally somewhere along this journey I'm bound to drop the ball. It's about the fact that I keep picking it back up and trying again.

Now let's get back to cutting out a parent from your kid's life.

When we get down to it every person who does this feels like they have a justifiable reason. And apart from abuse whether it be physical, mental, emotional, or substance; or fear for neglect or  kidnapping. There is absolutely no reason to keep your child from their parent. So get down off of your high horse and let's talk awhile.

I want you to picture a few different scenarios with me because no matter what you think each is a very plausible outcome to the situation you've created in your son or daughter's life.

Scenario numero uno:

Let's take a trip fifteen years into the future. You've successfully alienated your kid(s) from your ex and your sitting across from your son or daughter talking. What would the conversation sound like when they look at you and say why mom? Why wasn't he there? Why couldn't I see him?

You can really go two routes with this, you can tell the truth or you can lie. And to be clear, in my opinion omissions are lies. I can't stress the importance of which route you choose. A determined child will find the answers they are looking for. And sometimes, those answers find them first.
I don't know about you, but I don't ever want to see the day where I look into my child's eyes to find pain inflicted by me. Even if it wasn't always the easiest route I always put my child's feelings before mine. Do I get along with my ex? No. I don't. He was abusive, unappreciative, and brought out a horrible person in me. We didn't compliment each other or make each other want to be better people. We wanted to be right; to one up one another; and put each other down. But, that was between me and him. Not him and our son.
No one is claiming my son's father is in the running to win father of the year, but he loves Damian. I'm not blind to that. I see it in the way he looks at him. I hear it in his voice when he talks to him. He loves his son the way a father should love his son. More importantly he loves his son the way my son needs to be loved. The way that will help him grow into the best possible version of himself. The compassionate, fun-spirited, responsible father I hope to see him become one day.

The easy route would have been to cut him out of his life when I cut him out of mine. But sometimes the right path is not always the easiest one.
The damage that would do to my son would be something I could never erase. One day, he would come to me and ask me why? No answer could be good enough.

We fought constantly Damian. He treated me terribly. We deserved better.

Ok mom, but how did he treat me?

Boom.

Do I lie? No. I can't lie to my child. Shame on anyone who can. You could argue that we make little lies all the time to our kids, but I'm speaking on real lies. Lies that affect their lives in a profound way. Not these fibs we tell our kids about holiday figures, that we didn't eat the last cookie, and about how the Hulk gets big and strong from eating all of his vegetables (his favorite is broccoli why do you think he turns green?)

Lies are poison. The more you tell the faster you kill the most important relationship in your life. The one between a parent and a child. And for the record that would then mean you are responsible for killing two. As a parent, how can your feelings towards your ex be enough to justify erasing that half of them? If your ex truly is as terrible as you make them out to be the best way to kick them out of your kid's life is to let them do it on their own. Whether that be they slowly fade away from not calling or visiting or as your child gets older they see for themselves what type of person they are and make the decision for themselves. Just because you have the right to make the decisions on behalf of your children now doesn't mean that you should. Especially in situations like this.

Scenario numero dos:

It's been six months since you've let your ex have a visit or a phone call from your daughter and all of a sudden there's a knock on the door. Peering through the curtain by the door you see a sheriff. You've been served court papers. Your ex is fighting for custody.

Say what you will about being your daughter's mother. Judges no longer favor the mothers in custody battles as they use to. Depending on how good of a lawyer your ex has without showing a justifiable reason to have kept your daughter from him all this time, you're in real trouble here of losing primary custody. All he needs to establish is that he is willing to work with you, but you refuse. The proof is the call logs, the witness testimony, the recorded conversation the last time you spoke. The attempts that he's made that you have shot down every time.

What do you do? Every reason you told yourself you were doing this for now sounds silly and petty as you sit on the stand and speak to the court. Your heart racing as realization kicks in that there may be a very good possibility you are going to lose your daughter.

For the sassy moms out there ready with their rebuttals for this situation ... My ex can't afford a lawyer, he wouldn't take me to court, he could never prove himself to be a more fit parent than I am..... Refer to scenario numero uno.

Scenario numero tres:

It's been two years since your daughter has seen her biological father. You've been dating so she has a "daddy" and to you life is going perfect. You've done exactly what you wanted. Pushed out the person who you couldn't make it work with and found what in your mind is the better fit for your little girl's daddy. She's small enough that she doesn't even remember him. She doesn't know she has siblings. She doesn't know her grandparents, her uncles, her cousins. Life is great. For you.
You see that number flash on your phone. You briefly wonder why he still bothers? You have ignored his calls repeatedly for the last several months. How did he even get your new number? You remember the knock on your door last month. Seeing his mother standing on the other side. Thank goodness your fiancee was here to answer and tell her to leave. You go on about your day. Making preparations for a date you and your guy are going on tonight. Thanking God for giving you such a wonderful mother who's always excited to spend the day with her granddaughter.

Fast forward a few hours. Your ex's phone rings. He answers and his wife watches him drop to his knees. It's a moment he never expected to be faced with.

You see, after you dropped that lovely little girl off. You and the man that she calls daddy were in a car accident. You didn't make it.

Where does that leave your daughter? Well, to her in the arms of strangers. Family she doesn't know because you didn't let her. Not for anymore reason than it didn't fit your idea of what your family should look like.

She's scared and confused. At four she doesn't quite understand why this man is saying he's her real daddy. He decides maybe a sort of fairy tale explanation may be what's better for her.

A big one eyed monster came and stole him away. Daddy's been fighting his was back to you ever since. This monster sprinkled sparkly dust all over mommy and made her forget daddy, that's why she never told you about him.

Leaving out that the monster was the man your little girl thought was her daddy. Not mentioning that you knew full well that her real dad was trying so hard to see her. Not telling her about all the gifts for birthdays and Christmas that she believed came from aunts and uncles far away, were really packages of love from her sisters and brothers and daddy and her step mommy.

They spend the next several months calming night terrors and working through separation anxiety when she's left with a sitter. Did I mention that the reason it was so easy to keep your ex at bay is because he lived hundreds of miles away? That's right. Your daughter has been taken from everything she knows. She's broken inside and cries for you and her grandma. She hides from strangers, makes her self sick from anxiety attacks, her stomach's in knots. She asks every time they leave her if they're coming back.

Her trust has been shattered. She doesn't know what to believe. Her innocence and naivety has all but disappeared. As if overnight that sweet little four year old has the soul of someone five times her age. She's keenly aware of so much more.
Every day her new mommy and daddy work with her. They tell her stories about before the monster came, about when her real mommy and new mommy were friends. About when her new daddy and real mommy were in love and had her. They smooth over the details that show the side of you that your daughter doesn't need to know. Because it no longer makes a difference. Because they aren't like you. Because they know despite the fact you couldn't get past the things you didn't like about them, they can see the beautiful pieces of you that were put into this incredible child. Half of her is you, half of her is him, and all of her is amazing. If they were to deny that there was good within you and hate you for it  than they would have to hate half of your daughter. And that is impossible for them to do.

She eventually adjusts to her new life, but she'll never be the same.

These scenarios however unbelievable they may be to you, do happen. I have lived two of the three and more. My writing this is simply for the hope of helping you from unknowingly damaging the people in your life that you are so vehemently trying to protect. Your actions have a profound affect on everyone involved even if you don't see it at first. No one said joint parenting is easy, there are decisions you will have to make that will test your sanity and your strength. But, these decisions are for your child, not you. Your feelings are irrelevant.

If you should ever be faced with one of these situations I pray you make it through with as little damage as possible to you and your child's relationship. And if your family should ever be faced with a situation like scenario number three I pray that your ex handles the situation like my husband did. Because if he doesn't, then it's not only the child that suffers but your family as well; when he refuses to let any of them see your child because of what you've done to him and his family. 

In closing mommies of the world, a child needs to know where they came from. Whether you like it or not, your beautiful bundle of joy is made from pieces of you and pieces of your ex. Don't block out something you can't change. Your child deserves more. Give them the perfect example of being the bigger person. I promise you won't regret it.

R.I.P. Christin Marie Deaton 10/17/1988 - 01/22/2014

Unapologetically Me

So today officially marks one year since we reunited with Aubrie. To date, our family is happier than we've ever been. Not pretending like life has been all smiles and sunshine because we've had a lot of ups and downs throughout this year, but my kids are together and that is all that matters.

Today I started looking over this blog and for the trillionth time considered sharing it on my Facebook.  In honor of the anniversary of our reunion these considerations are a little more serious than they've been in the past. I want my posts to matter. I want someone to read my words and take something from them. No matter what that take away may be. For better or worse, I'm unapologetically me and make no excuses for the ideas and beliefs I have.

My journey is my own and others may find similarities in their own lives based on what they've read from me. I write with honesty about my life that I really don't even share with those I'm closest to. 

I think through all of my posts one thing is very clear. I'm all over the place with my thoughts. Buuuut, as a young mother of five I find it hard to believe someone could blame me for that. Judge me? Sure. The fact is we live in a world where people will take even the smallest and most harmless statements and dissect them just to have a reason to rain on someone's parade. It's time for me to make the decision to not let those who do not matter censor my story.

I write this so one day my children can look back and say my mom cared more about me than she cared about herself. Because I do. I would walk through fire naked and barefoot if it would guarantee my children would never feel the heartache I have felt in my life. I would let anyone publicly blast me for my beliefs to show my children that the only person's opinion of you that should matter is your own.

So kids, go out and be loud (you've had plenty of practice so that shouldn't be hard).

Don't let anyone tell you your views are wrong. That you can't do what you love. That your feelings are invalid.

Show the world your true colors. Carry yourself with the dignity and respect that I know is inside of each of you. Stand out. Speak out against the injustices of our world.

You have no idea the power your words could have over those reading it. The lives you can change by just being yourself.

Of course my little loves, I will love you know matter what you do. All your mama wants is for you to do that which makes you happy.

Until next time...
Namaste~

Make It Count

I don't pretend that I have all the answers. Most days I'm at a loss for words so please don't read this thinking I'll be unveiling the how to's of life. All I know is that I'm determined to make this year a better year than last. I respect the hell out of all you avid resolutionaries. The ones who probably spend all of December going over their year. The ones who try to prep for what we have come to view as our blank slate period (aka January). I'm not one of those.

No matter the effort of trying that I put into it. The process becomes overstimulating for me and I get burnt out really quick. The anxiety I feel from reliving even the good moments of my previous year is enough to make me want to commit myself. Judge me as you will. I'm a spaz.
Moving on.


That doesn't mean that I don't set goals for myself. In years past I was all about the number of goals. I know. Silly and naive. No worries, I now focus on the quality.

I'm realistic.

365 days is a long period of time to commit to endeavors that you won't put your whole heart into. I don't like the idea of dooming myself before I even begin so I try to generate ideas that will grow me as a mother, wife, and person. This year my overall goal is to live in the moment.

There are few things that we can actually control in this life. Once we accept that life can become a lot easier for us. I've wasted way too much of my time stressing out over situations outside of my control. And even more over situations that hadn't and could very possibly NEVER happen. I dream of a year with less of this. Less anxiety. Less worry. More focus on the moment in time where I do have control. Control over my emotions. Over my choices. Over my actions.

I want to spend my year loving more and yelling less. Ok, look. I have five kids. My home is overflowing with love, but it is also overflowing with noise. Loud, unnerving hysteria that centers around the constant worrying of what someone else is doing. Unless of course "nobody" is doing it because obviously "nothing" is going on. (insert exaggerated eye roll). I will remind myself amidst all the chaos there is a magical world of childhood imagination that my kids have created. A world that I will visit more because my children won't be children for long. And I'm coming to grips with the realization that the more I yell the faster this life stage disappears. I'm not ready for that so I will make the conscience descion to be in the moment.

This year will be the year that I stop comparing my life to everyone else's and stop letting other people's assumptions affect how I feel about myself. No one's story is identical to mine so how can I expect to have the same pages? Our journeys are meant to be our own. We walk alongside one another for the company not for competition. We all need to spend less time judgine one another on how far we have or haven't come. I will remember that those who spend their life going through mine with a fine tooth comb are just looking for a distraction from their own problems. I will focus solely on those who enrich my life.

In closing, here's to making 2015 count. Stay present in all you do this year. Life is a gift and we are all struggling with our own issues, be kinder to those around you.


Namaste.

Lessons Learned

I have learned a few things in the last (nearly) 10 years of parenting that I have done.  A few things that I would like to share with you. So ... here it goes.

#1 ----    There's No Sense in Crying Over Spilled Milk

     Back when I was about 14, I use to walk to my best friend's house every morning before school.  This was the place all my friends would meet at because the high school was literally behind her house.  We'd get there and I'd have to get her motivated to get out of bed (she was not.... well is still not a morning person).  Allison has a little sister, her name is Shelby.  On one particular morning Shelby climbed out of her bed and followed us downstairs.  We couldn't get her mom to wake up and we had to leave for school so we turned on some cartoons for her and left her in the living room. Shelby waited for us to leave, walked into the kitchen, got out the milk, and proceeded to throw the entire jug at the giant window in the living room.  Milk went everywhere.  I imagine the scene was much worse than the mess that we walked into because Allison's mom was still working on cleaning it up when we walked through the door at the end of the day.  She told us that Shelby had been covered in it, as well as the couch, the floor, the curtains, the ceiling, and the book case. Someone commented about how she must have been mad, she simply shrugged and said "There's no sense in crying over spilled milk." I remember thinking yea right.. I'd be irate! Little monster child.

However, I have since then cleaned up my fair share of spilled milk.  Spilled spaghetti.  Spilled foundation.  The entire bottle.  All over the inside of my closet.  An entire carton of broken eggs off my living room carpet. 
I feel like I could spend entirely too long on this list so I'll just stop and say my kids spend more time spilling things then changing their clothes... which has been at least three times a day pretty much their entire lives.

What happens every time they do it though?
  
I make my annoyed mom face, grab a rag, and clean it (and usually them) up.  And guess what...... it's gone.  Ta da! Poof it's done.  I move on. 

Why on earth would I want to take something that can be fixed with nearly no effort at all and turn it into something that will stress me out, make them cry, and cause even more disarray in my already chaotic household? 

Parents... clean the f'n spill up and Move. On.

"Ooooh but Megan... Timmy is spilling stuff on purpose. He needs to learn a lesson."

Dude.  
Whip his ass.  Clean the f'n spill up and Move. On.

#2 ----    My Kids Are Not Made of Glass

     On the day I moved out of my parents house Damian was one and a half.  We stayed in the same room for nearly the entire one and a half years of his life.  This room was located at the top of my incredibly steep, eighteen step staircase.  His dad was taking a part his crib inside the room while three or four of my friends and I were hanging out in the doorway with Dami. We were nearly finished moving everything out, and it had gone off without a hitch.  That is until, my darling baby boy squirmed his little self through every stinking one of us standing right freaking there, and fell down every single one of those steps.  My heart nearly came straight out of my chest.  My poor baby.  There was an immediate goose egg, and he roared from the pain.  I cried and held him, convinced he was now going to have brain damage.  What a horrible mother I was.  I can't believe it happened. 
And the award for bad mother of the year goes to.... Megan Nealeigh!

What happened next?

He Survived.
He still loved me.
Definitely no brain damage.

In fact in the years that followed, he tried to fly off the top of his bed and nearly gouged his eye out on the corner of his toy box.  Had his same eye nearly gouged out again by our pregnant cat after he was pressing down on her belly.  Slammed his boy parts in the toilet seat and had to be rushed to the ER.  Fell out of his bedroom window (one story house don't worry!).  In his underwear. 
Of course there's also now the many injuries we've dealt with the girls and even our 6 month old. 
Fingers slammed in bedroom doors.  In car doors.  Bathroom doors.  Dresser drawers.  Kitchen drawers.  In fact, I'm having a hard time finding something these kids haven't smashed their fingers in or with.

Skinned knees, scratches, bumps and bruises happen.  All of the Time! It doesn't make you abusive, it doesn't make you negligent, it makes your children .... children!  They are not made of glass. They are going to fall down, you have to allow them the opportunity to learn how to get back up.  Sometimes with your help, but mostly on their own.  They will thank you for it later.

#3 ----     Sometimes I Have to Just Laugh at Myself

       Kids are going to be kids.  I am by no means a perfect mother.  They make me crazy most days, and I lose my shit more times than I like to admit.  On days where I feel like I'm a red faced fire breathing mama from hell, I have to forcibly remind myself that these kids are only children.  While I want to believe me yelling "You know better!!!" is because they actually do know better, I'd say at least sixty percent of the time they are in fact, still learning to know better.  I have to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror in the midst of my rage spiral and see how incredibly ridiculous I look.  I have to laugh at myself.  Laugh it all out.  The anger, the frustration, the impatience.  Laugh myself to normal, or as close as I can get.  Then start over.

#4 ----     When in Doubt, Sing it Out

     Our household, on the occasion, is like living in a real life musical.  Honestly, I'd say at least one time every day we will take something we would normally just say to one another and put it into song instead.  I'll sing out things I want my kids to do, or sing out my frustrations of the day, and lately there have been a lot of impromptu re-enactments of Frozen. 

Most people look at me like I'm nuts when I tell them this.  But you tell me, would you have rather had your mom say to you "Susie clean your bedroom and make your bed." 
OR... sing out in a twinkle, twinkle little star melody "Oh my little Susie moon, It is time to clean your room, Grab your toys, and clothes, and trash.  Make sure that you get that sash, Oh My little Susie Head, Don't forget to make your bed!"

I'll give that a second to sink in.......

... Exactly.
Sing more... your kids will love it.

#5 ----     Lovingly Insult the Kiddos

           Ok ok ok... I know how that sounds.  And I'm prepared for all the horrible comments or emails that this lesson will get.  Well... if this blog was actually popular and read by more than one random person every few months. Any who... Let's move on.

If you spent a day in my household, you'd probably be shocked at the things we say to each other.  For instance, at least once every day you hear my husband and I call our children fea or feo, the Spanish feminine and masculine words for "ugly."  We by no means believe our children are ugly.  They are the most beautiful kids on this planet in our eyes, and that will never change.  Our children know this.  We believe whole heartedly that this is largely in part to the insults we lovingly give them every day of their lives. 

Where's My Fea Lulu?  Awww Aubrie you're so fea!  I love you pinche menso Damian feo!! Mitri, my fat man!!  (Google translate what you'd like, be prepared for the shock... ;]) 

Most parents are dumbfounded at these things that so very adoringly pass our lips on the regular.  My children know that we do not think that they are ugly, we do not think that they are stupid, we do not think that they are anything short of incredible.  For every insult they hear, they've heard fifteen wonderful things as well.  We say these things so that they will lose the power they hold on kids when they get older and are out in the world. 

In my mind, I can see my daughters sitting in the lunch room surrounded by kids.  Some of the kids are whispering and pointing, telling my sweet Lulu, or Aubrie, or Penelope, that they are ugly/fat/stupid.  My girls smile at this.  They think of their mom and papa.  They think of the million times they've heard us tell them that they are feas/gorditas/mensas... they know that these are just words because they remember the billions of times they've been doted on for their incredible beauty, intelligence, and the sheer imperfect perfectness that they are.

Call me misguided, naïve, and anything else you'd like.  In 10 years come visit us though and let's see what my kids self images are like.

#6 ----   Toys Are a WASTE of Money

     I could count on ONE hand how many toys my children own with more than five pieces, that stayed all together for more than one week.  Small reminder, my oldest will be 10 in September. 

Then let's explore the avenue of broken vs. intact toys you can find in our house.  That ratio usually works out to about 1:15... as in, for every one INTACT toy, you can find about 15 broken ones.  God forbid we trash these toys, or donate.  Because "we still play with it mommy!!! It's my favorite mommy!"  As they wipe the inch layer of dust off of it.

Half of the time I find them playing with random household items.  The vacuum attachments become swords, blankets become capes, the broom is for flying, and lest we forget mom's high heels!!

I have found that it makes more sense to spend five dollars on something as seemingly insignificant as a purse or a Lego man, then to go out and spend fifty on some la la loopsy doll or random electronic motorized piece of plastic.  The cheap ones, always seem to get played with more, get loved longer, and stick with my kiddos almost all hours of the day.

F U Toys - R - Us... Give me the dollar store any day of the week.

#7 ----    Want It to Last? Hide It.

         I like to think like most moms, there are certain things I've gotten for my children, or passed down, that I would love to keep intact until they're old enough to appreciate it.

This is impossible.  Unless of course, you HIDE IT! 

In order to be successful at this, you have to remember that if you can't outsmart your kid you can out-height your kid. 

I have to do both of these things with my brood.  My three year old Penelope, may be the smartest kid on the planet when it comes to finding things you've intentionally hid from her.  I have had to result to hiding things in places that I can't even reach.  (Thank Goodness my husband is a giant!)

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This is just a small handful of things I've learned obviously.  But as you can imagine, there is never a dull moment in my household and as I type this I hear the beginning of a moment going on right now above my head.

Also, would like to note, in the midst of typing lesson number four.  I had to deal with lesson number one.  In it's most literal meaning.

Happy Sunday all.

-Namaste

One Big Happy (Crazy) Family

I guess to start off I should say that Aubrie has been officially with us since March 6th, 2014. Every day since has been quite the adventure.  It was really hard for just a few days, but once she came here March 10th, there was no looking back.  She adjusted almost instantaneously.  She is happy, healthy, amazing in every way. 


Our family has never been happier. 

If you are a parent then you should be able to relate to the craziness that develops in your household once children work their way into the picture.  More so for parents with three or more children.  Let's be honest, I daydream about how calm my house was when there were only three to look after.

I've settled into a nice routine for my week since all of the transitioning has taken place. The mundane tasks that I can pretty much complete on auto-pilot.  Wake up.. feed the baby, change his diaper.  Drag myself out of bed, find something to wear.  This consists of smell tests, the thorough once over for jelly fingerprints, make up spots, and random other stains that can show up after three little girls decide your closet is their club house. 

Then it's off to the bathroom. Brush my teeth, put on my makeup, find my deodorant that is wedged between the five million things that have collected behind my sink because it's the farthest for my 3 year old to reach and I may be able to actually make it through a whole deodorant stick with out finding chunks of it all over the house if I put it there. The whole time having to play 20 questions with the three year old at my feet.  "Mommy, is that your make up?" "Yes Penelope that's mommy's makeup." "Mommy, is that your eyes?" "Yes Penelope." "Mommy, can I have makeup too?" "In a minute Penelope." "Mommy you gotta brush you teef?" "I already did baby." "Mommy I'm gonna brush my teef?"
........... Lord give me patience.

And that's just what I have to do for myself. I still have to find the nine and five year old clothes for school.  Wake up and have them get dressed.  Put Lydia's hair in a pony tail. Remind them five times to find their shoes, coats, and back packs. All the while peeling every single one of them off of the baby who I'm trying to keep happy while I get all of this done.  Aubrie is the only one, every morning, that is either asleep still or chilling on the couch.  Thank you Jesus.

Then it's off to work until my lunch break that must be mapped out in advance for Miss Sunshine.  She has to know how many hours until I'm home again (Definitely no qualms with this. I love that she misses me).

Come home; feed baby; eat lunch; update Sunshine of how many hours until her sissy and I come home; go back to work.  Come home at 5:30 to a house that is either half way to being cleaned, looking like it was either abruptly interrupted or abandoned altogether OR it's a complete and utter disaster. I can't really focus on the state of the house though because it is now time to feed the screaming baby who has just registered that mama is home. Then I have to attempt to cook supper.  Tripping over kiddos the entire time and trying to avoid a new game of 20 questions.  Next is bath time and the glorious much anticipated favorite time of day BEDTIME.  

I get maybe thirty minutes of calm to myself before I end up passing out. 

Saturday's can be slightly different.  Cut out anything I have to do with the kids because obviously there's no school on Saturday.  Then we alter how I get woke up. If you are curious of what that consists of I have the perfect picture to sum it up...

Every Saturday. Every Sunday.



Yesterday was Saturday.  I got up, got ready, and headed to work.  Saturday's I only work until about 12:30 pm, so I get home and am immediately met with smell of pine sol. The wonderful super dad that I get to call my husband, has the whole clan busy cleaning our house.  Go papi.

Downstairs is looking fabulous, so he heads upstairs to fix the girls' bunk beds that have been falling to pieces after learning half of the boards weren't screwed in correctly.  (No worries though, it was the slats that held up the upper mattress, which did fall. On my three year old's head. She was fine).  I'm pretty impressed at this point.  My son is sweeping the downstairs floor, my girls are sorting toys, my husband is being his handy self, and I'm just chillin' feeding the baby. 

After I top off the Mitri monster, I start making lunch for everyone.  Grilled cheese, Ravioli, and mandarin oranges.  The kids are pumped for some ravioli.  

We get through lunch, to my surprise, with no fighting. No messes. No complaints.  Nap time is now in full effect. 

Or so I thought.

The girls, as usual, sound like they are in the midst of try outs to join the circus.  I go upstairs and warn them that it isn't play time, it's nap time.  If I have to come back upstairs I'm going to have to start confiscating things they like. 

As always they call my bluff fifteen minutes later.

I go upstairs without saying a word and pick up one of their favorite toy boxes and haul it out of their bedroom.  Their faces are priceless.

I come back in and calmly tell them that if I have to come back up, they will lose another toy box.  They stare wide eyed, nod their heads, and settle down into bed.

Two hours go by. Of perfect silence.  I'm pretty impressed with myself.

I should have known better.

I go upstairs on the hunt for something in my bedroom (for the life of me I can't remember what it was).  That's when I hear something very strange.  My two oldest girls voices.  

That's not what is strange (obviously) the strange part was where I was hearing the sound coming from.

Sure enough, to my surprise, I look out my window and there are those two little monsters on my ROOF!!! In princess dresses to boot. talking about "Watch out for the dragon sissy!"

Mom's about to show them a dragon.

"WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TWO DOING!!! GET YOUR ASSES BACK IN THAT BEDROOM NNNNOOOOWWW!!!"

I can't even describe the look on their faces. It'll be something I laugh about many years from now I'm sure.

A very long entry today for a very small climax to my story.  But, it gives you (my silent audience) a nice interlude to how I plan to evolve this blog.  Now that I no longer need it to vent my frustrations over our estrangement I will focus on how awesome (and sometimes crazy) our full house is.

Until next time...

~Namaste

The Blessing Within Tragedy

It's been quite a while since I've found my way to typing out my thoughts. Today, however, it's all I can think about doing. Today marks a very special day for our family. It is a day we've been waiting on for two years one month and sixteen days; our sunshine just officially entered the state of Iowa.

I wish I could say this blessed event is under wonderful circumstances, but I wouldn't be being honest.  On Jan 22nd (Penelope's 3rd birthday to boot) Aubrie's mother was killed in a car accident. I hope that we can turn this tragedy into triumph for her.  But only time will tell. Until then I'm just going to take in the sight of her.  The warmth of her.  The joy I feel, and most importantly, the relief that has washed over me knowing that God has blessed our family.  He protected our baby.  Through everything that went on, he protected her.

My heart is full.



***Note this was drafted on February 15th, 2014

Let Go and Let God

This evening has been an emotional one.
We drove to Des Moines and were on the return trip when out of no where I hear from the back seat,  "Hey mommy. I have another sister, Aubrie. Remember her?"

Instant heartache.

"Yes baby, I remember Aubrie."

Then there was silence.

Alex turned up the radio, and I spent the remainder of the trip staring out the window at the stars, thinking about our Sunshine and praying.

I've spent so many months being angry. Cursing Christin and Rayne's name and wishing this was over.
Now, when I close my eyes I repeat in my head "let go & let God."  God sees all and I know in my heart he will reunite us soon. He will give my children their sister back.
I just have to keep faith. 

So please excuse me, dear audience, while I write this note that I wish our sweet Aubrie could read.

 

 

Hello Sunshine!
   We think of you often. Daily in fact. I wish I could put into words exactly how much we miss you, but it's really incomprehensible.  The best way to describe it, if I were to even try, would be to say that everything we see, every conversation we have reminds us of you. "You are My Sunshine" replays so often in my head that it's almost as if it were my own personal theme song. If that even makes sense.
    All I know is the thought of your little face brings tears to me eyes and a tightening in my chest. I can't believe it's been thirteen months. I'm sure you've changed so much.
    I hope that you are happy sweet girl and can't wait to see you again. Your sister is getting so big and looks so much like you. Her personality is a lot like yours as well, so I'm beginning to realize just how much of your papi is in you girls. Lydia is doing well and talks about you often. She misses you the most I think. And your big brother misses you too.  He has faith that you will remember all of us when we finally get to pick you up.

   We all send you all of our love dear Aubrie.
    See you soon ♥

Meggy

~~~~~~

Dear Lord,
Please watch over our Sunshine. Please keep her mom safe and help erase the animosity she feels towards us from her heart.
Most importantly Lord please help me to forgive her and Rayne for the hurt they've caused our family.
I know you have a plan for all of us.
Amen