Angry

I've been trying to bury this debilitating feeling for months now.

This is the eve of the due date for the baby boy that will share my history, my very DNA. The baby that I may never know is even born.

It's, for lack of a more descriptive word, anger.

Anger that I'm allowing myself to find less joy in the baby girl that my nephews beautiful wife will have in a couple of weeks. An event that will probably always remind me of the potential birthday of my oldest child's son. A son who deserves to call Chris daddy and know how very much he is loved by an invisible family.

Anger and sadness that overshadows the magical and nearly miraculous pregnancy of my precious niece. A niece who is my heart, the daughter I couldn't give birth to. The sweetest mommy-to-be who I am over the moon happy for but who reminds me that I'm just an aunt not a gramma.

I'm angry at the women who is keeping me from fully participating is all of these wonderful events because of a selfishness that I will never understand. I want so badly for my heart to be as full as it should be.

Loving my great nieces will be easy (I already do)!

I'm searching desperately for the faith that I'll be able to replacing this deep, soul crushing pain and anger with something much more healthy.

In the mean time I'll smile through the tears and celebrate each moment that they allow me to share. Because each moment will be a gift that I can't repay.

Will He Know ?

What if I spend the rest of my life looking in the eyes of every young boy I estimate to be born in January 2015 to see if he has my eye color or that of my son?

This isn't how I expected it would be. I was cautiously excited when I learned she was pregnant. I knew the circumstances weren't ideal, yet MY SON was having a baby. A child that shared my genes, possibly my hair color, maybe a tiny part of me. We learned the baby was a boy and they chose a name. Then she decided "yes, a baby was good by not with him".

I foolishly began to buy clothes and allowed my heart to get more and more attached. I know the statistics are against me ever having a relationship with a child that is being carried by a woman who is no longer involved with my son EXCEPT as often as I explain that to my heart I find myself wandering to the baby section of every store I'm in. I carry the itty bitty sleepers around for a few minutes before reality quickly reminds me he'll likely never wear them and I quietly put them back on the rack.

Everyday my heart shatters into millions of pieces and everyday I glue it back together with tears and pretend she isn't carrying a new tiny shard of it in her belly until he is born in January and I begin to watch for the face of the sweet boy that I will instinctively know belongs to me.

The Thing About Kids

I was the tender age of 23 when I found out I was pregnant with my first baby. I was beyond excited then I was nervous, then I was scared to death. How could I possibly be responsible for another human? I could barely take care of myself.  But as my belly grew so did my confidence that we were going to be alright, my little family. There were hurdles, some small some big.

Labor was a blur and I was cuddling this tiny, squirming infant that I was head over heels in love with. I could do this! Beware of the terrible two's people warned me. They weren't so bad. I won't say we sailed into childhood but we slid in with few bumps and bruises and a few broken bones.

At 29, when Chris was 6, Nick was born I figured this parenthood thing wasn't so hard. What I have learned is that babies are easy!

You know what's hard?

Watching your 17 year old son's heart break because  his girlfriend's parents won't allow her to see him.

Or wanting to shout from the roof tops the news your 23 year old just shared with you but knowing you can't because maybe not everyone will be as excited.

Wanting so much to keep them from hurting but knowing you can't, that's the hardest part of being a parent.

Bumps, bruises and broken bones of childhood, those are the easy parts. You just don't realize it at the time.

A Secret

I was never one of those little girls that secretly wished her divorced parents would get back together. I didn't ping pong between their homes each weekend like most kids of estranged parents. I lived with my mom and spent very little time with my dad.

I'm sure some custody agreement buried deep in a divorce decree somewhere says I should have but I just never did. Sadly, I missed out on some very important bonding time with my dad. While I can't get that back, now we have managed to forge a loving relationship.

Over the last year or so I let hurt feelings and angry emotions surface a little more often than I'd like where my dad is concerned. I blamed him for missing important events like births and weddings, which isn't entirely fair given the distance we live apart. A couple months ago he agreed to spend 4 days with my sister and I.

We picked him up at the airport late Thursday evening. I wasn't sure what to expect. I love my dad but we are two very different people and having not spent a lot of time together I wasn't sure we were even going to be comfortable together. It's not as if you can add water, stir and have an instant father/daughter relationship where only a strained relationship existed before. Turns out, you kinda can! We must share enough of something because we are comfortable together. We talked and learned things about each other. Things he regrets and things I needed him to know.

We had family time. REAL FAMILY TIME! I watched my mom and him talk and laugh easily. They shared smiles over the blond curls of their first great grand daughter. All of their grandchildren in one place at one time. We took pictures. Many, many pictures.

Tracey got a tattoo and mine will follow shortly incorporating dads handwriting because we determined that we didn't have anything that said "Love, dad" and now we do....permanently.

It was nearly a perfect weekend.

For a few minutes right before he got on that plane to go home, I was that little girl secretly wishing her parents weren't divorced.
 

Just Add Water and Stir?

His and hers.

Blending.

Combining.

Everything I had became his and everything his, became mine. I had so hoped my children would love him and that his would love me. Our littles were young, surely we could blend these two small families How hard could this be?

My baby, only 5 months old, virtually started his life with 3 sisters and 1 brother. He knew no other life. Nick called Pat Daddy from the time he could form word with his tiny rosebud lips. He is his dad in every sense of the word. Nick doesn't have step sisters. He just has sisters. And now, nieces and nephews. There are no steps in his life. As it should be.

My oldest at 6 years old had an established relationship with his father and I knew I was in for a struggle to acclimate him from an only child into a family of 5 children. I know now I was grossly unprepared. What I could have done differently I don't know but he still has a shaky relationship with his stepfather and a only a slightly more stable relationship with 2 of his step sisters. As an adult now, it's his job to foster these relationships and make them stronger. Pat's oldest daughter and Chris have no relationship and barely know each other.

In my opinion, I was lucky that Pat's girls didn't have a close relationship with their mother. It allowed me to nurture a mother-like relationship with them that provided my heart an opportunity to create love for them much like the love for my own boys. I tried to equally love his girls. Each of them and I have had our ups and downs. Tears and smiles. But only 2 of them will allow me to continue to love them and return that love unconditionally. With each of them at almost the age I was when I met their father we are extremely close and share many mother/daughter moments. They understand that  I never intended to come into their life and take any one's place. I wasn't an equal to any of them in Pat's heart. I didn't try to force my love for them, it happened naturally. I had hoped the mutual feeling would happen naturally as well. I've, in no uncertain terms, been informed that it hasn't with his oldest. I won't lie to myself or anyone else and say it hasn't hurt.  But what hurts the most? Pat gets hurt in the crossfire.

A few days ago, Pat received an invitation to his oldest daughters out of state wedding planned for September. At first, he wouldn't open it. I opened it for him and suggest that he go even though I clearly wasn't invited. I appealed to the parent in him but he's hurt or angry or, I don't even know but he didn't want to talk about it.

I think we A) Over estimated our ability to create a blended family. or B) Need to take Nicks approach and accept what is.

Little One

There are days when something happens and I immediately think...THAT'S GONNA LEAVE A MARK!  Maybe a tiny bruise for a couple of days or just an invisible mark on my heart for an indeterminate amount of time.

My heart was the target today.

I met a boy. He had blond lashes and sleepy eyes. I was hesitant to touch him at first but after hearing his story my arms instinctively reached for him. I knew as my eyes welled with tears that they were going to spill down my cheeks and splash onto his downy soft hair. Still, I cradled  him as close to my heart as I could. I wanted his heartbeat to sync with mine, just for a few minutes. He of course will never remember those few minutes but I whispered to him that some very lucky mommy who had probably waited for him her whole life was just waiting to hear "we've found a son for you".

Four weeks old I was told. This tiny infant was only one month old. I didn't ask anything about the person who decided she couldn't care for him and put him in foster care to be adopted by a suitable couple. As I held him he snuggled into my chest and it was almost physically painful to give him back. I'm not sure I would ever be strong enough to entertain the thought of allowing anyone else to raise my child and never see them again. Sure there are certainly circumstances that I can't see and there are people who are grateful for them because that is the only way that they will ever have a child of their own but today I couldn't see past the tiny little boy who at that moment had no mommy.

He'll never remember me but there will be times in the next few years when I will most certainly look at a little boy at a playground and think is that him. Oh, little one, how very lucky your new mommy and daddy will be to hold you and call you theirs.

Wickedly Wonderful

Way back in October I had an opportunity to purchase tickets to the Broadway production of Wicked. I knew that this production was perfect for my mom and I. Many years ago we saw Cats together and it's a very fond memory that I will never forget. I wasn't passing up the opportunity to have another experience similar to that one. The tickets were pricey but I was able to put them on a payment plan of sorts. My employer offers a payroll deduction that is taken over several pay checks. January 20th seemed so far away that I really almost forgot about them.

Kinda like when I was very young and school clothes were put in layaway for several weeks before school started in September.  Days before school started I excitedly remembered that I had a whole new gloriously beautiful wardrobe just waiting behind the counter at Kmart.

Except let me tell you when we got to the theatre and found out that our seats were front row, that Kmart wardrobe? It became every dream outfit at Neiman Marcus!!

I'm not sure who was more pleased with our experience, me or mom. But had the tickets been quadruple the price, and I knew how much we were going to enjoy our afternoon together I would have sold a kidney on Ebay to make it happen.

We were practically in OZ!!

The only thing between those brilliant performers and us was the orchestra. Granted some of the lyrics were drown out by the musicians but seriously, can that even be a complaint?


I am the proud owner of a Wicked soundtrack CD, which has been on a 19 song, 1.1 hour rotation for the last several hours and a purple souvenir t-shirt which I will most certainly wear like a 12 year old girl with her first Justin Beiber concert shirt.

But what I cherish most from this afternoon was the time spent with the special women that God allowed to be my mother. Sure I tell her I love her and I have no doubt that she knows but sharing times like these together is what I want to remember above all. The play was amazing, yes. But sharing it with my mom?

That was BEAUTIFUL!



A Blooming Relationship

For the last two and a half years the relationship that I've managed to share with Lily has been somewhat stunted. Admittedly, it was mostly self imposed. Generally out of fear I suppose. I wanted so desperately to share what my Grandma and I shared that I was afraid to stretch and reach for that special bond. What if it was torn away? I almost allowed fear to cause me to miss out on the most precious of relationships.

I also allowed another person to form the connection that I was willing to settle for with my only granddaughter. I gave him the ability to control how much I was willing to share with her. I'm angry.

I will not lose any more time letting him or anyone else dictate what kind of bond Lily and I share. I have big plans for us. I want to experience seasons and holidays with her. I've missed too many already.

This past weekend we shared our first of many holiday traditions together. Fall is a hard season to experience in Florida. Pumpkin patches are little more than tents with various size pumpkins lined in rows. And temperatures are 80 plus but experience it, we did.

 

I have lost time to make up for and seasons and holidays to look forward to.

Her, Revisted

I started this little blog, in my little corner of the internet because I needed somewhere to put all the words and feeling that were taking up so much space in my mind about Her. That was so long ago. August 2010.

Even now, I can barely bring myself to reread my own words. In an instant I can relive that day. It was equally one of the best days of my life and one of the most terrifying. I held the granddaughter that I had waited my whole life to meet and I felt the terror that my daughter released as she let me hold her and shed tears that she had held inside so bravely for so long.

I wanted to let her crumble and tell her it was okay I would put the pieces back together for her but I couldn't. She was stronger than that. She gave chances, where circumstances didn't deserve chances. Benefits of the doubt were afforded to those who certainly didn't deserve it. She gave her little family more than a fighting chance to bloom.

But now choices have been made. She's done what she thinks is best for herself and her little girl. She made the best of a less than ideal situation and she will never  have to say that she didn't give it her all. I am so very, very proud of her.

I've watched her make decisions that are not easy to make. I've seen her put her daughter above everything else. She is the mother I knew she wanted to be when she stepped off that airplane that hot August afternoon.

I wanted so desperately to save her. To keep her from drowning in the hurt. But, she didn't need me to save her. She's strong and independent and such a good mother. She's going to be just fine.

And this beautiful curly haired granddaughter that we are so lucky to have is loved beyond words. She's going to be just fine too.

A Pain In The Neck

For our 14th anniversary we booked a short cruise. More likely, than not a VERY ROMANTICAL CRUISE!

We're not planners so it was several weeks after our actual anniversary and we're cheap so we didn't purchase vacation insurance. After all,  what possible reason would we not be going on a cruise that was already booked and that was celebrating our wedding anniversary?!

About a week before the cruise I woke up with a kink in my neck but certainly it would go away before we left. IT DIDN'T! It slowly crept into my arm and had me begging my doctor to amputate it before I left on my MAYBE-NOT-GONNA-BE-SO-ROMANTIC cruise the next day.

I think we have a total of 20 pictures of the whole 4 day cruise, none of which I took.

We managed to leave the cabin for dinner in the dining room ONE night. I would have endured just about any amount of pain for lobster tail. We strolled the decks for a few minutes after dinner before the man who vowed to love me in sickness and in health could tell that I was about to ask the next person I passed for a nail file to surgically remove my right arm. When he asked me if I was ready to go back to the cabin all I could do was nod.

I'm fairly convinced that the woman tending to our room thought we must have been on our honeymoon because every time we left the room the bed was unmade (I was cold and could only get my neck and arm to stop hurting by lying down). If she only knew!

We docked in Nassau Bahamas and left the ship for about a total of a half hour. With every step I took the pain in my arm made me nauseous and I refused to throw up in a foreign country so we went back to the ship.

I totally ruined our fancy anniversary celebration and it sucked! But on the bright side I didn't spend any money, so there's that.

About 5 hours after we got off the ship I had an MRI which told my doctor that I had at least 3 herniated discs in my neck and nerves that were smashed between them. I didn't need an MRI to tell them that! I've now had 2 weeks of therapy which has helped and the pain has developed into more of an irritating electrical pins and needles sensation. Hopefully it will keep getting better.

Eventually I hope to have a cruise DO OVER. One where we don't have the only picture of us together in the mirror in our cabin.

The First 14 Years of Forever

We chose a date. April 1, 1998. April Fool's Day.


Still appropriate. We make each other laugh.


My head knows the moon has always been perched in the sky. My heart tells me you hung it there especially for me the day we met (June 26, 1997, I remember).


Our family laughs at our clothing optional bedroom picnics 14 years into our marriage. We just giggle.


Both our hands reach towards the others' when we walk side by side. Instinctively.


You gave me my first house early in our marriage and we made it a home. Together.


We learned a lot about each other in that home. We faced fears and uncertainties but I never felt like I wasn't with the person who made my world whole. We learned that we were stronger. Together.


We raised OUR children. We made mistakes. We're still learning that each one is different and wonderful. Only one to go. Super heroes are made of that kinda stuff.


You keep me from sinking when the darkness bubbles from places that I don't understand.


You reach for me in your sleep like you've been doing if far longer than 14 years.


You know, without looking at me, which movies, tv shows, songs, cards, commercials, heck just about anything, are making me cry. I think you know, before I do.


We've held each other during the loses of people that we thought would crush us. And we just kept breathing. Together.


Grandchildren! We have grandbabies!


We have big plans for our future. I have no doubts that we will make them happen.


There is a contentment when we're together and an  anticipation when we're apart. I expected that to fade sometime during the last decade, but I'm overjoyed that it hasn't.


As we make our way to our happily ever after, loving and learning each step of the way,  I hope that you always know that you carry as much of my heart and soul with you as I carry with me.

Happy Anniversary Sweetie!

The Right Decisions

I missed putting words here. I guess I thought I didn't really have anything worth writing. But I do and it clears space in my mind to think of other important things like How my youngest kid is turning 15 in a few short days or How lucky I am that my honey's youngest daughter referred to me as "mama" the other night and my heart hasn't been the same since. Important things!

I started this blog to have somewhere to put my feeling about Her situation.

That seems like a lifetime ago. She has made decisions and choices for her and her family that are far beyond her 24 years since that post so long ago. And she's becoming an amazing woman for it. She knew what was right for her (despite my 2 cents, thankfully) and is continuing to bloom in so many wonderful ways. She just knew!

Earlier today I learned of another young woman who is making choices that while they might not be popular, are right for her. Postponing an event that was creeping up faster than she was prepared for. Because she holds in her heart a million pieces of mine I would support any decision that she made but I am so very proud of her for realizing what is best for her. She is braver than I was at her age. I made choices that felt comfortable and expected but weren't necessarily right for me. I wanted so desperately to dive into the future that I missed out on just being me.

It's taken a lot of years to shake off all the layers of wrong those choices left me with. But what I am left with now is SO right. Love that I only read about in fairy tales, relationships that are healthy and nurturing and people who don't just take up space in my life but enrich it.

My girls? They are strong, independent and more than capable of making the choices that are best for them. It's hard to make decisions that you're afraid other people may not understand or agree with. It's those not so easy options that make me so very proud of both of them.

Three Weeks

Three weeks ago today I watched as life support was discontinued and my sweet step dad slipped into Heaven. By the time we let his body go his soul had already been our guardian angel for two days.

Mostly I'm okay, we are okay. I have a pretty amazing family!

But then, standing in the checkout at Walmart a man in another check out puts his fishing tackle on the belt to pay for it and I feel the sting of tears that I know will refuse to stay behind my eyes.

They are rubber worms with hooks for God sakes! Hardly worth tears. But my fish-lovin' dad won't be buying any more damn rubber worms and that hurts. A LOT!

I tried to focus on the screaming kid beside us or the lady with the tattoo above her butt crack that said "In God We Trust". Anything but those fishing lures. I somehow managed a couple of errant tears but for the most part I didn't crumble at Walmart. Success, I guess.

When will fishing lures just be fishing lures and Sundays just be Sundays?

Mine

Seventeen hours in a car, covering 5 states is hard!

Traveling with a 14 year old who has a serious lack of attention span is equally as hard but just as he did as a baby, the car begins to move and he is asleep in seconds.

Several times I turned in my seat just to stare at his long and lanky body curled up on the seat. His eyelashes are so long (the kind of long that woman pay for extensions to get). His lips are full and pink. And a shadow of what will become facial hair much too soon is just starting to dance across his face.

Around his shoulders his baby blanket is wrapped loosely. A quilt with cars, buses, airplanes and trains on one side and primary colored dots on the other side. I started the quilt when my oldest son was 3, long before my second son was even a glimmer in my eye but I'm a little bit of a, okay a huge procrastinator. I carefully quilted each vehicle with tiny stitches over the next three years. What? I had a kid who demanded my undivided attention to watch him build legos. How was I supposed to quilt tiny stitches in between lego towers and " Hey mommy watch me. Watch ME. WATCH MEEEE."?

Anyway besides the tattered quilt he was also wrapped in a blanket with his future high schools name printed in huge letters in the center. It was a strange juxtaposition. The baby that he was and the young man that he is becoming. I may have shed a tear or two watching him sleep. Willing him not to hurry the years by but enjoy being somewhere between a child and an adult for as long as nature will allow.

It's frustrating to watch him struggle in school and elating to watch him bake a cake that turns out just as he imagined. It tickles me that he still loves his baby blanket and I secretly hope that he takes it on his honeymoon because it reminds him of me. I love that he likes to travel with us but I know that he won't always. I'm enjoying this summer trip with him.

It's fun watching him experience things that are just starting to stretch his wings. It reminds me that we are making memories that will always  be remembered and that he is mine and that I am lucky to be his mama.

Juggling

I'm beginning to see my life as a circus. No, not because my house is filled with side show freaks, although if I find another chin hair I may be classified as a bearded lady. But because I'm becoming a world class juggler.

Juggling is hard. Keeping all the balls in the air takes practice. But imagine juggling fiery balls or razor sharp knives. Juggling relationships is akin to that.

If I were to lose my grip on a ball and it bounced around on the floor or rolled under the furniture to live forever with the dust bunny families that have taken up residency there, no harm done. Not maintaining perfect juggling of personalities or family members that I'm required to keep far enough apart that we live in relative harmony has far greater consequences. Beside my need for an early refill of Xanax or an emergency visit to Dr. Awesome. Tears are shed and things are said that can be far more painful than mis-juggling razor sharp knives.

There are conflicts in my family that if left without buffers could open into Grand Canyon sized chasms. I've pretty much made it my life's work to be responsible for keeping that from happening.

It's a challenging task and every now and then I unintentionally drop whatever I'm juggling at the time and people get hurt. Things get said that can't be pulled back before they cause a heart to hurt. Words that damage things that band aids can't fix.

This is my Big Top and I will stumble though being responsible to keep all the balls in the air until I just can't do it anymore or until someone loses a limb, then it's somebody elses turn to juggle.

Shopping

I *may* be addicted to shopping.

I'd like to say that I have the disposable income to support my love of buying but as I'm often reminded, I don't. As my mom pointed out while I was young, just because you have checks left in the box doesn't mean you can keep writing them. You know, back when people used to write checks instead of sliding a debit card. Credit cards on the other hand, well those stretch my love just a little farther. But shhhhh....that's a secret just between us.

I shop when I'm happy. I shop when I'm not so happy and I need a pick-me-up.

Shoes I'll never wear. Purses that I'll carry for a few short months before I'm again looking for a new one. Clothes I may never take the tags off of, gathering dust in my closet. Things I don't need but can't pass up.

But the tiniest clothes are by far my favorite purchases.The baby department has a magnetic pull that is as strong as if I were nothing but a giant paperclip.

I don't see my grandbabies nearly as often as I'd like to and I rarely buy things that I am drawn to for fear that they will be outgrown before they ever get to see them. Yet I still spend crazy amounts of time searching for the perfect little dress or the sweetest onesie. I even carry them around the store thinking how darling she'll look or questioning whether his tiny toes will have room to wiggle.

Before I put them down and wander out empty handed.

But yesterday something happened. A tiny heartbeat on an ultrasound monitor. A date in January with a new baby who will be shared with me.

A new mommy and daddy will be born.

Until then, let the shopping commence!

Family Tree, Bush, Weed...WHATEVER!

Nick has a project due at the end of the week. What this really means is that *I* have a project due at the end of the week.

A project with pictures. Family pictures.  Here lies the problem.

Yes, we have pictures. Boxes and hard drives full of pictures. Pictures that blend branches of my family tree, his fathers family tree and his step-father's (I HATE that term) family tree. I love that they are blended and random pictures are sprinkled into each others otherwise organized stacks of family memories.

But sorting and weeding these photos out to then affix them to a poster board in some order that makes sense is HARD!

Imagine...

Dear 7th grade teacher,

My mom was pregnant when she left my father. My Aunt was there when I was born but my father was no where to be found. Apparently, he didn't think it was important to be there when I was born.
So here is a picture of me and my mom and my aunt in the hospital.

When I was 5 months old my mom fell in love with the man who became my Daddy. They got married when I was 15 months old. My family tree sprouted a new branch and  I added 2 more grandparents and several aunts and uncles.
This picture is of me at their wedding.

Oh yeah, I have 3 sisters that my mom didn't give birth to and one brother who she did. My sister's have a different mom but I don't remember any time when they weren't my sisters so "step" sisters isn't a term I ever used.
So here's a picture of me with my sisters and brother (I already explained why we don't look alike right?)

When I was 5 years old or so, my birth father found his way back into my life. Yeah, he has brothers and family too but I don't have any pictures of them. Sorry!

Some of the leaves are missing from my family tree so I'm just going to leave those branches blank and some of the nuts fell off the tree (my mom says thankfully).Please don't take off any points from my project cause this isn't my fault.

Sincerely,
Nick B

See the problem? What 7th grader wants to go into class and discuss how intertwined the limbs of his family tree are and what parts are missing?

I'd really like to just scatter random family pictures on the board announce this is our family (messy as it looks) and call it a day.

Together

I listen as he breathes evenly and slips into sleep. Cherishing every night that we share the same bed.

I watch the rise and fall of his chest. Sometimes placing my hand gently on him just to feel his heart beat.

I breathe in his scent and thank God that He allowed him to drop into my life when I least expected it but when it was perfectly timed.

Thirteen years ago today we entwined our lives and hearts together. Marrying not only each other but our children. Blending them together so that his became mine and mine became his. Our children. Our lives together.

No lavish wedding (been there, done that). Just us, a small group of  family and friends and the knowledge that we had each found the person that made both of us better. Hoping to grow it into the makings of a great love story. And we have.

I've learned so much about myself in the years since we both decided to enter our second marriages on April 1, 1998. We've shared our hopes and dreams. Our fears and the challenges of our pasts. 

Promises made to each other that our hands will always find the others as we walk side by side. Facing whatever the future holds.

Often he holds my head above water when I feel as though I am unable to do it myself. When I'm unsure of when the blues will move away enough to let me breathe and not feel as though I'm suffocating. He makes me feel safe and holds me without saying a word.

I never question that our commitment to each other is forever and that we will grow old together.

Happy Anniversary Sweetie!

His Mom

Nine years ago today heaven gained an angel.

Her husband called her Doe. My sweetie called her mom.

I waited too long to tell her thank you for raising the man that completes me.

She loved her children fiercely. When she learned that my sweetie and I planned to get married only 10 months after we met she wasn't crazy about the idea. After all, I had two young sons. She knew he would accept my boys as his own and help me raise them because that is the kind of man that she raised him to be. I know not long after we got married and maybe to some degree before, my boys and I became part of her family. She only wanted her son to be happy and I think she knew he was.

She had some quirks. She grew up in a large family and tended to hold on to the values that she was raised with. Her freezer may have held food that was more than a little past it's prime. Her living room furniture may have been encased in plastic to save them from wear (except that no one ever sat on them). She scrimped and saved and made due with what she had. Generally buying only what was needed. Except for her beautiful rings which her granddaughters now wear and keep close to their hearts.

She married her soul mate and he adored her. He lived less fully after she lost her battle with breast cancer. Her children are the best parts of her. Not only did I gain my own soul mate but also have friends and family in his siblings and their spouses. How do you thank someone for that? She gave me priceless gifts and didn't even know it.

Thanks Mom. So loved and so missed!

Randomness

I got a phone call today. It tore at my heart leaving it shredded and bloody. The sound of being shell-shocked is rarely hidden very well. I had no words. As much as I wanted to say the cliche phrases like everything happens for a reason and it will be okay, I just couldn't because sometimes there aren't any words that make the hurt go away.

My new 10 hour days are KILLING me. Yeah, I like having Mondays off but going to work in the dark at 6:30 in the morning and driving home  in the dark at 6:30 PM is getting old really quickly. A half hour for dinner and a quick bath and its time for bed. Lather, rinse, repeat. I'm running out of time everyday to just live. I'm giving this schedule a chance to grow on me for another few weeks but if its not all rainbows and unicorns all the time by then I'm going back to working normal hours like everyone else.

I have the option of wearing scrubs to work now. And I am loving it! Let me tell you why. It has nothing to do with the fact that they are comfortable. They totally are though! It has everything to do with I fit in a medium instead of a large. A large was too big! Silly, since no one but me knows what size I'm wearing but I CAN BUY A MEDIUM IN CLOTHING! Oh, and it's like going to work in my jammies. How could I go wrong with that??

I miss my Christmas tree. It was the most magnificent Christmas tree EVER (I say that every year, so just go with it) and I miss it fancying up my living room. Now it just looks boring!

My solution to having no heat in my car is to put a heating pad on my lap. That's not weird right? I only need heat a couple weeks a year so I'm saving myself the 400.00 or so dollars that it would cost to fix it and adding it to my vacation fund.

Cause I am totally going on a cruise for vacation this year! That is so worth driving around with a heating pad on my lap!