A letter to my first born, my sweet Alyvia,

Soon you will be five.
Soon I will watch you graduate preschool, grow two more inches, swim without floaties, ride the bus for the first time.
You will play another year of TBall, you will make new friends, your hair will grow longer, your feet swifter.
Soon you will enter second, sixth, and high school grades.  You will learn lessons the hard way, and the easy.  You will bring home report cards, tests, class photos, and be apart of many fun things, or not so fun.

But, these five years, these first five, quick years, my beautiful girl, you will never know the impact you have made on my life.  The responsibility I quickly gained, the love I quickly learned to which I never knew existed.  Because of you, I am whole.

I wish for you to run and play, scrape your knees, learn new things, stand up for yourself, be nice, play dress up, ride four wheelers, swim and dance.  Fall in love, follow your dreams, never settle for anything less than you know you want and deserve - do all theese things, even if I fail to set the example for them, just always remember that you are worth more than gold.

Never lose your sparkle.  I love you so much.

Update on my current battle-

I was originally going to post recipes and a grocey list of last weeks successful mean plannning, but another topic has been at the tip of my tongue - I had to get it off my chest.

SO.
My last post shared my battle with whether or not we want to give the SAHM lifestyle a shot later this year.  Result? I still don't know.  But this is what I have learned.

Money does not grow on trees.
Actually, I have always known this.  But I have really been thinking about the long term effects.  Like, Disney next year.  School supplies.  Sports, whether it be travel or school.  FEES FEES FEES.  Saving for college.  Helping them purchase their first car.  A fun night at the movies with friends in five years.  And the cost is only going to go up.  I am not saying they need a Mercedes.  Hell, I drive a Honda.  Actually, my first car was a 94 Civic, five speed.  That is probably almost identical to what Alyvia will drive.  We cannot expect her or Mason to fund themselves through high school, and most definitely any earlier than that.  My job is important in that aspect.

They love me, regardless.
A sweet friend reminded me that even though you miss them throughout the day, and think they are so devestated that you aren't with them every second every day, they don't always express it.  They enjoy socializing with other kids and people.  And depending on the day, they may love when you pick them up, or pout (which is what Mason does most of the time).  Every now and then, Alyvia will get emotional and express she misses me.  Every now and then, Mason will not want me to leave him at the sitter.  But 99.9% of the time, they kiss me goodbye with smiles on their faces and go on with their day.

They are taken care of.
Whether it be our sitter, or my in-law's, or my side of the family - when I am gone, they are loved almost just as much by them as they are by me.

I know they will grow up to be proud of me.
Regardless of what I do.  Stay home.  Work.  Become a chief, or just a supervior.  A Stripper.  (KIDIDNG!)  I do it for them.  They will grow up to know that.

Retirement.
It's become almost nonexistant in some cases.  When I get to retire at the young age of 50, it will be more convenient than not to have my retirement and Devon's.  We will travel, the kids will be old enough and out of the house.  We won't have to necessarily stress about it.

I will miss things, but not everything.
I am lucky enough to accumulate paid time off, which will increase the longer I stay at my current job.  I will bust my buns to make sure I am present at all their important concerts, games, play dates, etc.

...And yet, there is still a huge part of me that wants so much to wake up every day, stay in my PJs if I wanted to, craft, make messs, kiss, snuggle, play.  There will also be days full of more discipline, tears, and screams.  I just want to know that I am doing the right thing.

Down the road, when Alyvia gets married the perfect man, graduates from college, or just brings home a good report card.  When Mason wins a race (he loves four wheelers), stands up for his sister, holds the door for his date.  When our bun learns to hug and give kisses, say first words, apologizes when needed. When I look back and remember all of those things, those little things, they will serve as my reminder that no matter what road we took, we took a good one.

WMG (Working Mom Guilt).

I have always been proud of my job.  How patient I was leading up to finally getting it; how determined I was to get it; how absolutely fortunate I was to have an opportunity to be so, so young and have such a well-paying, stable job.  It’s not every day that a teen mom doesn’t become a statistic; working for just more than minimum wage, maybe trying to get through school, and all too often without a significant other.  I was proud to not be a statistic.

Not a day goes by though that my subconscious does not give me some kind of guilt trip, some kind of hammering on my heart that reminds me how much I miss out on.  Not only me, but Devon too.  It was a little easier with just one, when we only had Alyvia.  Aside from working, every second of our spare time was devoted to her, and only her.  When Mason came along, I was only working part time for a few months, and deep down I loved it because I was able to spend SO much time with BOTH of them.  We knew though that in order to have the things we need to have, I needed to get a permanent, full time job.  And thank goodness I did.

We have always been so fortunate to have the best sitters.  Not everyone has that opportunity or luxury.  For that, I will always be grateful.

Still though, every day, I leave a huge part of my heart behind for ten hours.  I wonder what new things they’ll learn, say, do.  What they’ll have for lunch, if they napped well, if maybe we could have gone to the park together that day.  If I should be the sole person to teach them their letters, numbers, and prepare them for school.  If I should be the one to drop them off at preschool, put them on the bus, give them a piece of chocolate for finishing their meals all day.  I will miss PTA meetings, class parties, parent-teacher conferences.  And with a new baby on the way, possibly even first words, first steps, and that special snuggle time they long to have when they are just a few months old.

It wasn’t until my extremely hard working, I’ll-do-whatever-I-have-to-do-to-support-us husband got a new job, and a quick promotion that the thought of maybe, possibly staying home, maybe only working part-time, crossed my mind.  It wasn’t until we got caught up, finally caught up on our debts that I wrote down to prove that hey, we may be able to do it.  It wasn’t until last night that I was in tears, torn between which way my path would take me, which decision would I be able to make in the future.  If a year from now, that’s the route we decided to take, would I feel totally guilty about not having more extra money around?  Would I feel totally, dreadfully guilty that my husband worked 12 hours a day most days and I got to soak up the sweetness (or unsweetness) of our three beautiful, wild, keep-me-on-my-toes children?  Could I balance the saving we needed to do in the summer to get through winter?  Could I find it in my heart to part ways with my warmhearted, kind, selfless sitter who lives just around the corner?  The grocery budget, would I be able to get that right?  Would I regret it, and wish I could have kept my job?

i don't friggin know.

So for now, I’ll pray, work, soak up what I can, and continue to discuss the options with D.  I’ll talk to my kids; maybe they’ll give me the answer I need.  We have lots of time to figure it out.

I think.

It is ok

I had a wonderful Christmas.  Like, really wonderful, regardless of Mason getting up at 6am.  Him is a big boy now.  In exchange for gifts, he left HoHo his NaNa (paci).  We were really good about nipping it in the butt with Alyvia, but everything has been a little more difficult with him.  Three successful nights later, I think he will be just fine.

Alyvia was ecstatic about every single thing she got.  In the midst of her attitude lately, she really is one of the most grateful kids I know.  She makes it a point to tell me she loves me, thank you for everything (from helping her button her coat to her new Nabi, to toasting her a waffle).  I hope she keeps that trait of gratefulness.

We were able to make it to both sides of our families to celebrate.  Thank goodness I felt well enough most of the day because it made my heart full.  Our house is currently (still) a disaster and I am totally ok with it.

You may wonder why I am so happy about this holiday.  You may wonder why I am pointlessly describing our day.  You may wonder why I am so happy with the outcome.

I typically have a very, very hard time with the aftermath.  Pretending to be in a good state with family members for a few hours, then going home to remember that I am not.  That it was a front, that I am still so damned angry and bitter about the way I have been treated.  But this year, without me expecting it to be, it was different.

I have learned, it is okay.

It is ok to be angry about being treated unfairly at times, about being put on the backburner for years for what it seems like;

It is ok to not agree on a certain person’s lifestyle and how it seems as if life is always messy for them, and wish with all your heart that they would just settle down for a while;

It is ok to be hurt, and sad, and pray so hard that one day you will get a phone call, or a knock at the door, with a pleading apology, and real changes;

It is ok to be all these things, but still love.  Love all those people that have hurt you, betrayed you, made you cry.

They may not ever know the extent of the heavy burden you carry, they will never have to carry it.  But as long as you love, especially in front of your own children, eventually that pain subsides, little by little, and you are able to hug goodbye and feel full instead of still angry.  In all reality, staying angry only hurts yourself in the long run. 

So, just learn to love, despite what hurts.  Love can move mountains.

XO

Letting it be

Here we are, 9 weeks pregnant with our third and final baby, and I still don't know.  I don't know if I will ever get a grip on being a parent.  What's right, wrong, what's being too hard, or not strict enough.  How to build up self esteem in my 4 year old daughter when I have none of my own.  How to teach Mason to be a gentleman, to love with his whole heart, when I have never really seen a man do it himself when I was a child either.

I yell. A lot.  Three times of repeating myself, and I am ready to swing through the house with a wrecking ball because I am so pissed off.  I expect immediate satisfaction, even though I know that is not realistic with two kids under five.

Every night this week, A has spilt her juice from her "big girl cup" and with each passing day, I get more and more angry when she does it again.  When it occured last night, she looked at me with fear in her eyes, and quickly said "It's just a drop, Mommy."  No, it wasn't just a drop, it was about ten, but she tried to hard to not disappoint me by cleaning it up quickly.  It broke my heart.  Yet deep down, I was still angry.

Every night this week, I am exahausted and just want Mason so much to sit and relax with me when that clock hits 7:00PM.  He doesn't sit still.  I know this.  But can't he do it this one night?  Doesn't he get that some nights, I just can't do anything more but sit and watch a movie, justifying that as "quality time".

And when I am approaching my fourth request, for someone, anyone to just listen, I blow a fuse.  And to be honest with you, as much as it makes me cringe to say this, it comes naturally.  There was a lot, a LOT of yelling, hateful words thrown around when I was young.  I felt as if I was never being listened to, my needs were never taken into complete consideration.  And with much regret, I have carried that anger and fuse into a stage in my life where I get to be mom.  There are so many days when I feel as if I am just doing a terrible job.  I blame a lot of things.  I try to pinpoint why I react the way I do and why I still let my emotions get the best of me.

I read a blog today that made me cry.  Not a "this is so sweet" type of cry.  It hit me like a ton of bricks.  If I want to give the best to my kids, I need to stop being my own bully.  Stop allowing these past experiences drive my frustration to a level where my kids are effected.  Stop letting messes, and homework, and an extra minute playing ruin my mood.  STOP.  Stop being my own worst critic, stop striving for perfection, stop second guessing every decision I make.  Learn to let things be, love myself a little more.

Three babies later, maybe I'll get it.

Guilt.

So.
We're pregnant with our third and we are thrilled.  No it wasn't exactly "planned", but lets be honest, for someone who freaks out when a daily plan is ruined, Devon and I have never been the greatest big life event planners.  But we make it work.  We are happy. And that's all that matters.

It's Christmas time, and I am typcially the one who has the holiday tunes blarin' every day and making some kind of craft or treat every week.  This was the year the kids were old enough to get into "Elf on the Shelf", help me be the holiday crazy I love to be in.

I can't.  This pregnancy is draining me.  I haven't made one craft with them, I haven't made one holiday treat.  I DID help them decorate the tree.  But I haven't even bought the damn Elf on the Shelf dude.  I have no energy for it.  I spent Saturday and Sunday morning slouched over the toilet, and am in bed by 8:30 (7:30 last night), leaving the dirty laundry and dishes piled.  The kids are lucky to get a bath (and I usually stick them in the shower with their dad).  I thankfully felt well enough (after a morning spent barfing) to go on the Santa Train with the kids, Dev and his parents yesterday.  I am so glad.  They had so much fun...and I know it meant the world to them that I was there.  The holidays are all about creating forever memories.  That being said,  I sure hope I start feeling better soon.  They deserve it.

Dear 16 year old me:

-You are beautiful.
I know you are forced to compare yourself to every other girl in the world, but you are you.  No one else can be, posess, or have the features you have.  Tell yourself that, every. single. day.
-Be nice, to everyone.
Don't strive to be 'popular', have the best clothes, or compete with those around you.  Your clothes now will not matter in five years.  How many times you get nominated for homecoming queen doesn't matter, whether you live in a two story home or a single-wide, it doesn't matter.  Be nice, period.
-Thank your teachers.
They put up with hundreds of 16 year olds a day.  Would you want to do that at their age - be it 23 or 53? Didn't think so.
- Also, thank your parents for everything they do and buy for you.  They work hard for they money they spend on you.  It's their money, not yours.   You don't need those UGGS.
- GET SLEEP.
Staying up til midnight on the phone with "the love of your life" is not as important as a good nights sleep.
- Volunteer.
It not only helps someone else, it boosts your confidence.   Help someone who can't help themselves.
- Don't stop playing sports.
Whether you see it now or not, being apart of a team is awesome. You learn how to work well and communicate with others.  Don't give up.
- Don't make impulse decisions based on temporary feelings.  Watch what you say, and how you say it.  You can't take it back.
- Set goals.
Whether it be short or long term, write them down and cross them off.  Make that list your bitch.
- Be that friend that everyone wants to have.
Listen, laugh, dance, and keep the secrets they ask you to.  Be honest, and be there when they need someone.
- Have fun.
- Don't waste time on things or people you can't change.
- Respect yourself. Or no one else will.  Don't give your naked self to a boy who doesn't respect and love your naked soul.
- Strive to see the best in everyone.
- Go get ice cream and wear sweats to school whenever you want.
- Own a pair of Chucks.
- Use the same Jansport bookbag all four years.
- Take thousands of pictures.  These years fly by.
- Grow up to be 25, look back, and smile knowing you made the best of it.