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.

What My Daughter's Biological Mother Taught Me About Myself

I have come to realize a few things about myself over the last six years. Borderline profound realizations that may have never been recognized if it wasn't for my daughter's biological mother. A woman I spent the better half of six years hating. A relationship that began with conflict and ended even worse when she was killed last year. If it weren't for the middle portion of our time together I believe that my daughter's life could've taken a very different turn.

We've never had the most conventional family dynamic. In fact the first conversation her and I had involved her standing in my front yard at midnight trying to get me to hit her. She was four months pregnant and didn't like learning that me and my husband had been seeing each other.

Now having said that, let's get one thing straight.

They had been split up several months and weren't together when she got pregnant. I'm not a homewrecker. Plus, she was already seeing the man that eventually came in between us and our daughter. The man who later on down the road became responsible for her death.

The next two years became an uphill battle for us.  Having to watch everything we did because every couple of months she would get upset about something and cut all contact off for a month at a time. Eventually increasing to two months, and finally two full years.

For a long time we were angry with her. Him too, but mainly her because we didn't fully see the way she was being controlled.

The times where we were copasetic always began with "family meetings." Her and him would sit with me and my husband and we'd listen to her tell us what we were doing wrong. It was hard to handle. I don't close my mouth for anyone, and a couple of times it got the better of me. My consequence was the time we lost with our little girl. I learned to hold my tongue. And the few times I really let it go are situations I won't talk about, but know they were justified. I learned to close my mouth for my daughter. I learned that my kids are the only people on the planet that I will surrender for.

After these family meetings we would soak up every minute with our daughter. Even if we had to deal with random drop ins after her boyfriend got home from work. He missed the baby all day. He wants to spend an hour with her. Then we'd get a phone call that typically came at the end of that hour explaining how she fell asleep or wasn't feeling good. Our visit was over. We learned to treasure each moment with her.

It's hard to live a life like that. We moved twice to appease her. We followed all of her rules. We did everything we could to be with our daughter.

It took my youngest daughter being born before everything finally started working out. I spent so much time praying during her pregnancy. I picked out her name carefully. I chose it with the hope her birth would bring us peace within this blended family we had. Eventually settling with a name that gave her initials that literally translated to "peace." (A misspelled version PAS instead of the actual spelling in Spanish of PAZ).

My prayer was answered for nearly a full year. Starting from the moment I watched this woman hold our daughter's little sister on my living room floor. Incredibly smitten. It was if I was seeing someone completely different. In that moment I learned to look beyond the life we had been living the last two and a half years. I accepted where we were and you could see she had too.

We finally had a family. It wasn't perfect, but it was ours. I think it could have gone on like that forever if we would've stayed in that house. Life had other plans for us though. My husband's job eventually taking my family six hundred miles away from her.

We caught one last glimpse of what we had left on our visit home for Christmas. Eleven solid months in of us finally getting along. The first and last "family" Christmas we had together. After the new year she pulled away from us. Her boyfriend erasing us from their life. Erasing the memory of us from our daughter. Pulling both of them into a life of drugs and solitude. Changing phone numbers and moving to keep us away. Hiding our little girl's face anytime they'd run into our friends and family. Keeping to themselves.

It was during these two years I learned the most about the kind of person I was compared to the person I wanted to be. I learned how to take resentment out of my heart for the person who stole a piece of our family. To pray more for her than myself. I learned how strong I had to be for my husband and the rest of our children. We had a permanent ugly grey cloud hanging over us. A hole in our hearts. I learned how to forgive.

It all came to a violent end for us January 22, 2014. The day she lost her life in a car accident. My youngest daughter's third birthday. Nearly three years after that moment in my living room. Two years and twenty-two days after the last time she let us see our daughter.

Ever since I got the phone call my thoughts have been focused on what's best for my daughter. I put my mind in the habit of first thinking what I would want a woman in my position to do; and then considering if the decision I make could be one I can stand by if my daughter ever questions me. If I can feel confident explaining to my daughter when she's older why I did what I did, then it's the right decision to me.

Despite everything we had been through. Despite seeing the heartbreak my husband went through because he never got to fix our family. Despite watching it break all over again when he watched her boyfriend slumped over and drooling in the front row of her funeral. Completely high. Despite seeing the hurt all over his face when we finally reunite with our little girl and we hear her say "I already have a daddy."

I learned my love for my family is stronger than anything in this world. I learned that I married the most compassionate person I know. He is grieving his first love. I can't even begin to describe what that feels like to watch. But, I learned that I'm not jealous because of it. I'm not angry. I understand.

I learned that I am grieving too. That even though we were in such a horrible spot when she died that my heart aches because she's gone. I learned that I want my daughter to know the person her biological mother really was not the person that man made her.

I have pictures of her all over our house. We write letters to Heaven. We celebrate her birthday. Mother's Day. We remembered her on the anniversary we lost her. We feel her with us every day. We share stories of her all the time.

I learned that I can help my daughter keep her memory of her mommy. So I write for her. I write my daughter's memories in a book; I edit photographs to eventually put in a scrapbook for her; I save small reminders of their life together to pass on someday; I plan for events that haven't even gotten here yet. Her quinceañera. Her graduation. Her wedding day. The day she becomes a mom. I pour my heart out on her mother's memorial page.  I learned how much it matters to me that she remembers her.

We didn't spend as much time as we should have getting along; but, we were and still are a family for better or worse. Now, in the aftermath of the accident, I'm starting to see that my actions aren't as common as what I'd like to believe they'd be. Actions that can be traced back to this woman, the woman who gave birth and for four years raised, loved, and looked after my second little girl.

Her first mom wasn't perfect. Far from it. But, she was a new mom. Like the rest of us, she was still trying to figure this whole parenting quandary out. She was implementing the plans she made for her life the best way she knew how. Even if it didn't make sense to us.

In a lot of ways her and I were alike. But in the ways we weren't is where I grew as a mother most. She had a control about her that intrigued me in some ways. Made me question a few of my parenting techniques. Most importantly though, it taught me a lot about what I really wanted for my kids.

There's no question she loved her daughter. She loved her with an intensity you can feel reaching out through their pictures on our fireplace. You can witness it sitting next to my five year old on the couch. Her mother's sapphire eyes on her father's round face, zoned into Monster High. Nice and cozy under her mom's Pooh blanket; arm wrapped around the monkey her grandmother made out of a pair of her old jeans. She carries her mother's love with her every day. This love that showed me how much I love my own children. All five of them.

Anyone can say they would do the right thing, but I learned that I really can. I learned that I am capable of unconditionally loving every one, even a person I resented for many years. My heart sees beyond the anger, betrayal, and alienation it has faced. To the heart of someone who was led astray.

What she taught me is something I can never thank her for. She taught me I can love another person's child far beyond whatever I ever imagined possible. That family is so much more than genetics.  Family is pure, unconditional love. Family is looking past the differences that pull you apart, and instead focusing on the reasons you need to stay together. Time is a fickle bitch, and if you don't take advantage of the minutes you have together you will one day wind up spending every waking moment tormented by what should've been and wasn't.

So I leave you with this final thought, I learned that I can not accept praise for doing the right thing. What I do for my daughter is what anyone in my position should do. Why should that make me "amazing?" I'm not. I'm a mother. Wouldn't you do the same?

Because How Much Grander Would Life Be if We Encouraged Everyone Around Us to Be Happy?

I don't  know about you, but I'm sick of the flood of judgements I'm faced with daily. They may not all be directed at me, but the negativity reaches far past the person that's being singled out. It settles over the people who read/hear/see it like a storm cloud. Raining on those who think differently. What happened to the golden rule? A small piece of wisdom our parents passed on to us as children that we've somehow forgotten as we've grown older. More than ever, I believe society needs to reflect on that small token of advice. If you don't have anything nice to say then don't say anything at all.

It seems elementary for me to throw that out there, but I really believe some people are incapable of agreeing to disagree. They've made it their own personal mission to make everyone take their side. Here's a newsflash for you though: THERE ARE NO SIDES. No matter what you believe, we are all in this together. I am not in the habit of competing with anyone else. I want to live a long healthy and happy life and do the best that I can as a mother to ensure my children can as well. In the end, isn't that what we all want? Happiness.

Can we all come to a silent agreement that more often than not we settle for less than we deserve? Yes? Ok good. Friends, we really need to stop this. I won't judge the moments you aren't proud of. I won't run off and gossip about your failings as a parent, friend, or person. In fact, I'll let you in on a little secret.... most of those so called "failings" aren't failings at all. They're trial runs. They are those moments of learning you need to make you better. We all have them. We all make decisions we question, we regret, we deny. Every person I know. So I think it's safe to assume that goes for every person I don't know too.  We spend so much time getting hung up on these moments that we forget to see that glimmer of good shining through. It's there my friends. Hiding amongst the chaos. Well camouflaged so that only the ones truly seeking it out find its beautiful rays of hope. A promise that this isn't your life, but a tiny piece of the  puzzle that makes you, you.

So here's my heartfelt assurances to you my friends. I will not judge your beliefs, I'm so very glad that you have them. I will not judge your lifestyle choice. Gay, straight, Republican, Democrat, addict, doesn't matter one bit to me. I will not judge you as a parent, we are all doing the best that we can with what we have. I salute you for being there for your children. I will not judge your facebook posts, your crazy hairstyle choice, the color of your skin, your economic status, your education. I will not judge. We are imperfect. The way we are meant to be. I will not cram my God down your throat or pretend that my ways are the best ways. But, I'll be there to lend an ear when you feel like no one is listening. I'll be there to hold your hand when you're feeling afraid. I'll be there cheering you on as you take an unsure leap into your future. I'll be that voice when you feel like you can't speak. Friends, I'm here for you.

I'm beside you 100% of the way with my own insecurities, my own reservations, my own shortcomings. I question everything I do. I can't take compliments as much as I can't take criticism. I make mistakes every day. I'm not perfect as a mother or as a person. Some days I feel like I'm bat shit crazy. Some days I spend more time yelling than speaking. Some days I let my kids hang out in their pajamas all day. Some days I make macaroni and cheese and hot dogs and call it supper. Some days I can't make myself see past all the negative that surrounds me.

But, some days aren't every day.

You have to make it through the storm clouds to see the sunshine. Even on the days where you can no longer tell which are tears and which are raindrops.  That silver lining is hiding in there. Reminding us that every time we survive something that has hurt us we have just become a little more tough. A little more prepared. A little more grateful. Friends don't turn some days into every day. Don't let the harshness of society and it's ever-evolving need to judge, harden the softess of your heart. And on the days you find this impossible to do please remember me, cheering you on. We are in this life together. I want your happiness as much as my own. Because how much grander would life be if we encouraged everyone around us to be happy.

Spread kindness friends, not judgements.

Until next time,
Namaste~

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