I can draw!

Somewhat.

I am a super creative person. Crafty and artistic.

I laughed recently as I was cleaning out the closet and reorganizing some boxes.

On any given day, I can pretty much guarantee that if you need or want to do some kind of project, I have the tools necessary to complete it.

Need a basket? I have some, with or without a handle?

Iron on letters, ribbon, artificial flowers, several types of adhesives…beads, buttons and yarn. To name a few.

I am literally a tiny craft store.

A lot of my stuff comes in handy when a makeshift repair needs made. Like a jewelry making ring to act as a zipper pull.

But, drawing is something I am only so so with.

I used to put little notes in my 9 year olds lunch bag.

But, that got boring. Recently, I began making drawings of some of their favorite characters.

I google pictures of them, and after my kiddos go to bed, I draw.

So now, it has become such a hit that I get special requests.

My preschooler doesn’t do lunch, but she has begun to make requests.

I don’t draw every night. Sometimes I am just too tired. I have also tried and failed with some.

There are way better artists out there.

But, I can only imagine the smiles on their faces when they see what I have drawn.

My oldest has started to hang them on the bulletin board in her room.

She loves Mario and a game called Five Nights at Freddies.

We all like Cartoon Network and Nickelodeon.

It’s fun to see what I can actually draw.

It is also super fun to do something special for my girls.

Advertisements

I’m gonna’ write a book

Yes, I know “gonna” is not correct.

I excelled in school at english and writing.

It has always been something I enjoy.

I used to write poetry all the time.

So now, I am going to try my hand at a book.

What about, you ask?

I could write about my life. All its ups and downs and twists and turns.

But, one little girl inspired me.

I am going to write a kids book.

One evening, my 4 year old was drawing with her sisters.

She came to me proudly holding a piece of paper. She was happy to show me her latest picture.

As she explained to me each character and what was going on, my eyes kept going back to one specific doodle.

I kept thinking how damn cute this little guy is.

He needed a name. So I asked her what she would name him.

She called him Barnie. I went for the non-traditional spelling so as not to be confused with that other once famous character.

So, here we have Barnie. This cute, little, and happy character.

I have to write a story about him.

I have actually finished a rough draft of the story and what goes on each page.

And because my daughter created this character, she is going to supply the illustrations.

This may take time. But, it will be so worth it. I am going to gather her drawings and use them in the book.

My idea may go nowhere.

And that is ok. I will get to scratch something off my bucket list and make a memory with my child.

Meant to be a mom

It occurred to me just a but ago, while I was making an ass out of myself to entertain Peyton, I am meant to be a mom.

Go back about 20 years and I would tell you differently.

I was never really around kids and babies growing up. I didn’t hate them, but I also had no opinion on them.

I have never been able to pinpoint where exactly in life I belong, but I sure as hell didn’t envision myself having 4 kids, all girls.

I have had my doubts, and haven’t we all. That moment where you just don’t think you can take much more.

My journey is a little bit different than most.

I also never planned to get a divorce.

Of all the obstacles I have faced in life, getting a divorce has been the most difficult.

The challenges continue.

You resolve one issue and have another one. Or there are things that remain hurdles and you just have to realize that it comes with the territory.

Like they say, “there are no winners in war”, and divorce is just that. No matter how ugly or amicable they are.

There are still casualties.

Through it all, I have primarily remained unchanged when it comes to how I am as a mom.

I have changed. I have grown. Life has changed. It is all just part of the aftermath.

I realized, that even though I didn’t see my life going in this direction, I had no planned direction to begin with.

I am literally writing my book of life as I go along. The following pages are blank, and I can write them as I wish.

Even though I didn’t go to college, get a degree, buy a big house, travel and whatever else goes along in the package of a “successful” person, I am successful.

I am good at being a mom. I am meant to be in this position.

If I were to sit down and list all the tasks and duties I perform just to keep them alive and well, the list would have no end.

Add in all the extras and well if it were a job, I would be getting totally screwed on pay and benefits.

But, I don’t bitch. Even though I struggle every day with the complexity of life in general.

I sometimes get tired. I get angry and sick just like everybody else. I am not perfect.

When I truly look at where I am, I am doing something I love. I am caring and nurturing and loving and it comes naturally.

I have improved my motherly abilities and damn it, I am proud.

4 little lives depend on me and I go above and beyond for them.

I am truly meant to be a mom.

If someone would have told me 20 years ago that I would have 4 beautiful lives to love and to hold and to help them to grow, I would have just laughed.

I have been through so much in recent years. I have quit and given up on things. But, my love and desire to be a mom is still as strong as ever.

I have succeeded at something.

Self Conscious

My skin has always been an issue.

I always wished I were one of those girls walking around with flawless skin.

Adult acne, due to hormones, was always a problem, up until now.

Us moms, our bodies go through so much shit as we age and go through pregnancies and beyond.

I am not at the beyond yet, but I know it’s around the bend as I approach 40.

This last pregnancy left me with a new skin problem that has really trampled my self esteem.

Mask of pregnancy or Malasma.

It it characterized by brown or dark patches of skin, mainly on the face.

Finally, my skin is pretty clear of acne, but now I have brown spots.

I guess I just can’t win.

So, today I finally got a haircut after many months.

And, I am sharing my face. Make up helps. But, it still looks like I have a 5 o’clock shadow above my lip and my forehead is affected too.

But, I have this gorgeous little girl now.

I have a 5 year old who also has marks on her face. She was born with a port wine stain on the side of her face and up around a part of her eye.

She rocks it! She is so beautiful. She is fully aware of them and just says that the birthmark just makes her her.

So, even though my spots aren’t as dramatic as my daughters, they are there. I am sure my anxiety fuels me feeling bad about them too.

Feeling good today with my haircut and not caring what anybody thinks.

I hate Wednesdays

Every week, Wednesday is a crappy day.

I call it transition day.

That is the day I say my super “goodbyes” and “I love you’s” before they get on the bus.

That is the day I have to ride my preschooler to school and not come back for her.

Oh how my heart aches.

I know it is only a few days. I know it gives me more of a chance to relax and breathe. As much as I can with a three month old in the house.

But, I hate them.

Every Wednesday I think about my girls almost non stop. Hope they are having a good day. Which I basically do every day, but Wednesday I know I won’t get to see their smiling faces as they get off the bus. I won’t get the chance to ask them “how was school?”.

I don’t get to pick my 4 year old up from school and spend the next few hours with her without her older sisters.

Not to mention, Wednesdays seem to be particularly rough for her. Sometimes having break downs in school.

Wednesdays may be hump day for those who work. Yes, it’s the middle of the week and getting closer to the break the weekend offers.

For me, it’s the beginning of the count down until I see my girls faces again. One of the worst things about divorce.

So this morning, as I drove my one princess to school, we laughed and we talked and her happiness made me smile.

That song “Feel it still” was on the radio. (The only thing I can think of when I hear it, is that dude on the treadmill). I don’t normally listen to the radio because it is not my genre of music, but she was grinning and grooving. Like any mom would, I joined in.

I captured that moment at a red light.

And it has had me smiling ever since.

So, I am going to try to make the best of the time they are away. Because, in a few days, I have the opportunity to make more memories with them. That is something to look forward to.

Fearless

I love to write.

I don’t really know why I don’t come here more often.

Wait a minute, it’s that little bitch called anxiety.

The why’s with no answer.

It occurred to me just a bit ago, that on most nights, we’ll say around 8:30 or so. I have kids. Bedtime never happens quickly or smoothly for that matter. But, around that time I get to shift down a gear.

And most nights when this happens, I find myself being able to hear my thoughts once again.

These thoughts of all the things I can and should do.

The empowering thoughts of lighting a fire under myself and start tackling life again.

Quit smoking. Get back in shape. Be more me with less fear.

I used to be fearless. Except for spiders, that fear has and will always exist. I used to be independent, bold and strong.

I lost it.

So, every night I get a chance to revisit these thoughts, I always devise a plan. I tell myself tomorrow is a new day. I can make changes. I have the control. Instead of sitting idle as my anxiety takes the wheel, I am going to quit fearing the maybes and the no’s. I am not going to continue to coast on by each day and just hope a giant wave doesn’t come crashing down.

I am going to do at least one thing that makes me uncomfortable. That puts me in a vulnerable position that I’ll do anything in my power to avoid.

My life has been nothing short of chaos since my divorce. I am tired and battered and bruised.

But, only I can make the changes, improve and grow.

So, tomorrow. No matter what it may be. I am going to do something. I am not going to let that little voice that talks me out of everything to have total control.

I am going to surprise that bitch anxiety.

And hopefully I can build on that.

I have been drifting for far too long. If I truly love my family and want what is best for them, then I should be able to muster up enough strength to fight back.

I want better.

Disgusting human being

It has been almost two years since my separation and soon after divorce. 

Today actually marks the day I made the biggest mistake of my life. 

I don’t regret getting married. I have three beautiful girls and I have learned a lot about myself and life. 

But, it was a mistake. 

A mistake I was able to correct. 

So, here I am nearing 40 years old and 27 weeks pregnant. I am already considered a high risk pregnancy due to my age. 


Past pregnancies have not been easy, and the same goes with this one.

Never once did I use my health to not be mom to the children I already had. I pushed myself to the last day. 

Some people can easily judge me based on my current situation. Life may be tough, but just because I didn’t plan for this doesn’t make me a bad mom. I could never live with myself knowing I terminated a life. 

There were only two people involved. We are working very hard, as always to be the best we can be. 

Unfortunately, I have an evil force in my life. A virus if you will. 

I almost feel ashamed to be pregnant because of their words. The stress from the harassment. The fear that it will never end. 

I made a decision last Saturday, the day before Easter, not to take my 5 year old to softball practice. We had plans to dye eggs. It was the day before a holiday. 

The following is an excerpt of the email I received regarding that decision. 


Disgusting human being. 

I was crying to my doctor this morning because she offered to set me up with physical therapy to help me deal with my hip and thigh pains and I told her I couldn’t. 

Why? Because I am so afraid that it will add too much to my already busy schedule and if I miss a softball game, it will be held against me. 

I am afraid that if I have too many strikes against me that he will take me to court to try again for full custody, his defense that I am unfit because I can’t keep up with the kids schedules. 

If I am having a bad day with my pregnancy, I am afraid to stop and care for myself a little cause he will use it against me. 

Disgusting human being. 

I feel bullied and harassed. 

Constantly being scrutinized and judged. 

I don’t deserve to live this way, to be treated this way. 

Am I wrong?