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Give me a hug or you don’t love me!

When I was pregnant with my first, I had so many fantasies of how things would be. Breastfeeding would come naturally and I would sit in the glider and just watch my baby fall asleep in my arms, then gently place her in the crib and all would be right with the world.

Let me go back a bit real quick. I’m a touchy feely kind of person. According to the book “The 5 Love Languages”, mine is touch. I feel loved with a quick tap on my shoulder, graze along my back, hug out of no where, light tap on my butt (from my husband only of course!) and I show love the same way. I squeeze, kiss, run my fingers along arms, hold hands and bring hands close to me. If Tom walks close by me without recognizing me in that way, I get a tiny bit bugged and hold it in. Early in our marriage it was a “thing” and thankfully he saw how important it was to me and re-trained himself how to be that way for me.

There are 5 love languages according to the book: Touch, Words of Affirmation, Acts of Service, Quality Time and Receiving Gifts. Everyone has one and once you understand what yours and those around you possess, you will then be able to receive love appropriately. It’s totally true and I highly recommend looking in to them!

Ok, back to my fantasies.

Well, needless to say when I delivered my baby things didn’t go according to plan. My tailbone almost broke completely off while giving birth and that first year I could barely sit down on the butt donut. It was severe. There was no sitting in the glider singing lullabies or rocking her to sleep. I breastfed Carissa while propped up in a funky position on the floor or on my knees, or lying down. She hated it. I mean truly hated breastfeeding, but she wouldn’t take a bottle either so I had to trick her for every feeding by giving her the pacifier then pop in my boob. haha I laugh now, but at the time it was so devastating! I took it as she didn’t like me as her mom (I know. Dramatic.) even though everyone told me that it was because of my discomfort and that she was probably just feeling that vibe from me. She weaned herself from my force-fed breast at 10 months and went straight to the sippy cup of formula. That was difficult.

Even as a teeny weeny baby she did not like to be cuddled. She preferred facing away and screamed when you faced her in for a sweet cradle hold. Tom and I would laugh at that personality trait because she was just like him. Knowing that, I knew I could change that about her, too. ha!

Over the years I still wanted to show her love by hugging and squeezing, holding hands and all of that. I got constant rejection from her and would cry about it all the time. One of my best friends then told me about the 5 love languages when she was about 2 years old and I decided to look in to it. I was pleasantly surprised to see ‘Touch’ as one and also ‘Quality Time’. I knew quality time fit her perfectly. She would beam if you sat on the floor and did puzzles or colored with her; she felt loved. I started to make it a point to understand how to love in that way and to accept her way of telling me she loved me without having to come up to me and hug me out of no where to prove it, which was what I longed for. Even though I needed that, I had to realize that she just. wasn’t. that. way.

I shed many tears to Tom saying I just didn’t feel like she loved me back. I cried at MOPS one time talking about how she rejected all of my acts of love and it was starting to strain our relationship and she was barely 5!! Then a few weeks later they did a whole segment on that same book reminding me what I needed to do to fix things.

I kept up with my overbearing love and kisses bc I didn’t want to give up the thought that I would never get it back from her. Roman, on the other hand, shares my love language and is always snuggling with me. Because of that, I felt guilty as if we shared this bond that she and I never would and so I would pull her to sit on my lap all the time and squeeze her and kiss her neck as she tried to get away, scrunching her face and telling me to let her go. I forced my love language on her hoping and praying she would grow in to it.

Last year she gave me a nice surprise by starting to hug me first. Deep hugs and snuggles. It made my day and I told Tom every time she did it because it was such a big deal for me.

Now at age 7, I can officially say that with force and determination, my daughter has learned a new love language. Her first is STILL quality time, but I am so happy that she can also show me love my way, too. She grabs my hand to hold it, she sits in my lap even though she’s almost as tall as I am! She comes up to me all the time for a bear hug and enjoys snuggling at bed time. It’s bliss and although it WAS forced it now comes naturally for her. It seems as thought persistence has paid off and once again, I have prevailed! 🙂


Lazy? Far From It, Fool! (with the Z Formation)

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Through all of the political comments on Facebook, I have come across some I nod my head to in agreement, some I say, “You have GOT to be kidding,” and some that hit really close to home. One in particular refers to  those on food stamps and  I just HAD to put in my two cents in.

This image I recently came across REALLY irks me.  It would be difficult for someone to read that and not feel lumped in to a category by those who have never been struck by hardship. Just because one requires assistance with food doesn’t immediately make them “lazy couch potatoes living off the taxpayers money”. I hope those who make these statements NEVER have something drastic/traumatic happen to their cushy little lives and find themselves in the pride swallowing line at the state human services department. Why? Because I was there once with my mom and I knew it was anything BUT laziness that put us there. Here is my own PERSONAL experience with that Monopoly money that was like gold to us.

During my years between ages 13-17 we struggled. After my parents got a divorce, we were flat broke and my mom was unsure of our future because of it. We went from a middle class lifestyle with two incomes (although my mom’s income wasn’t enough to support herself and 2 teenagers) to living in a new town in a room at my grandparent’s house. We soon moved in to a cozy (in other words TINY) duplex where Natalie and I shared a room.

Carrie, the oldest of us three kids, had turned 18 and struggled herself when she moved out on her own, not really having much of a choice. For all of us, those years were HARD. My dad had lost his job due to reasons I will one day cover in a separate blog post altogether….or a book. haha But for now, let’s just say he was NOT a dead beat dad and life had it’s own internal struggles for him, which left all of us drowning financially and emotionally. So my mom did what she had always dreamed of doing: she went to college. She enrolled at New Mexico Tech at the age of 39 and embarked on this journey to become a Registered Nurse.

In order to eat we needed food stamps. Period. This road we were on was going to require all of us to struggle for a few years while she worked hard at her education.

I remember the first day we went with my mom grocery shopping. We were new to town and Natalie had just started her junior year in high school. What a difficult age to go from middle class America and almost getting her own car, to coming up to the register with food stamps; not to mention this was when it was paper bills and not a dignified card that looked like any other debit card.  A tad mortifying for a 16 year old with the worst part being that the sacker was a popular and cute boy from school. I vividly remember her fidgeting in her body wondering how she was going to get out of this situation. I understood, but at 13 I hadn’t gotten to the point where I was embarrassed about that stuff yet. I was just happy to have a cart full of groceries and cereals that I got to pick out. So Natalie asked my mom if she could wait outside. The fact that she was THE most beautiful girl in town and everyone turned their heads when she walked in the room made a disappearing act impossible for her, but she tried anyway. Natalie wasn’t bratty about it, it was just going to take some getting used to. This would then become a bond that she and I would forever share; hard times can either rip you apart or pull you closer together and thankfully we got closer and learned to laugh about all of it as it was happening and for years to come.  One of the funniest moments was when I was a freshman and she was a senior.  Natalie, my mom and I shared clothes to give us more of a selection and when she got ‘Best Dressed’ for the yearbook her senior year, one, we were shocked and laughed hysterically and two, my mom and I joked that we should stand with her in the photo. I still laugh about that. 🙂

Then two years later, off to Laredo, TX  my mom and I went. Natalie stayed behind and lived with Carrie and continued in their struggle, while we went to Texas where my mom was accepted in to a nursing program.

Things didn’t get any easier there since financially things were the same. We continued on food stamps, medicaid, grants, scholarships and credit cards to keep us afloat. My mom would send food stamps back to my sisters in Albuquerque because they needed them as well. At 18 and 20, they were living with our dad who was unable to contribute much because of his illness; times were dark for them and any little bit of help was welcomed. I qualified for the free lunch program, free school shoes for those in athletics and anything else that was “given” to those of us who were in financial need. And yes, we took those “handouts”. We HAD to. My mom continued busting her butt at school and got excellent grades. She graduated with a GPA that any student would be ecstatic over and soon thereafter took her first nursing job in San Antonio. My senior year we were off to another city  to continue this journey together. Once she got her first paycheck, we stopped all form of government help. I was so proud of her and through it all I learned that I came from a magnificent woman who set her mind to something and made it happen. I also got a job because even though my mom was working, she still had racked up credit cards from paying rent, traveling to see my sisters, student loans, school shopping over the years and other life expenses that incurred. My measly little paycheck went straight to her and I was happy to help since she put on her brave face for me during those years. Through her hard work she paid those credit cards down to nothing and even though it took several years to do so she never filed bankruptcy in order to wash it all away.

So with these ads and comments regarding welfare and food stamps, just know that there are many that needed it to get through (and out of) those extreme lows that can happen in life.

Life as we knew it was ripped out from under us, yet with our wonderful government programs she was able to better herself for the family. Her nursing degree has been able to provide her with job security over the economic downturn and has allowed her to be generous to the family and helping out Natalie’s family after we lost her. God led her towards the necessary path required to have been able to take care of Natalie those 13 months she battled cancer. Without my mom’s specific skills Natalie would have needed to be in a home and for that I’d have been on food stamps and struggled alongside her all over again.

Thank you, mom, for being such a blessing to this family. XOXO

10 Years and 50 Premature Grey Hairs Later

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*This is NOT a spoiler blog post as I haven’t finished the books yet. While reading the second book I couldn’t help but imagine what would happen if they got married and what their lives would be like 10 years later. 🙂

It’s been 10 years since we exchanged vows. Yes. Ten gloriously looooong years of endless sex and romantic getaways. Well, actually those stopped after the first 2 years and we haven’t done anything since our 6 month old twins came along. I’m waiting for them to stop nursing so I can get my vaginal reconstruction done; that area just doesn’t work the way it used to and in fact, I accidentally peed on ‘C’ the last time we attempted to get it on. Apparently that’s NOT one of his fetishes. Who knew I would be allergic to our new pillows and sneeze until I wet myself?

Babies #3 and 4 have been using my body in ways I never knew possible. As a matter of fact, this part of my body has stretched and contorted in far more positions than ‘C’ could have ever done with any of his clamps and bars from the “playroom”. Ah…….the playroom. As much as I was never a real fan of that room, it was hands down far better than this new playroom we have that has it’s own causes of torture: Legos, Hot Wheels and dress-up high heels. Step on one of those suckers and you’ll see what pain REALLY is!

But life is great. Truly fantastic some would say. I live in a mansion that overlooks the most beautiful scene in Seattle. But due to my 6 year old’s Agoraphobia (gets that kind of stuff from his father), we had to build a wall along the whole back of the house in order to make him feel more “closed in”. I will occasionally sneak out the front door and around to the back of the house with one of the twins on my boob and watch the sun set with tears in my eyes knowing that I might never be able to enjoy this view in peace. Why do I let these babies use me as their pacifier?

Gail (bless that woman) has already started cooking so I sit in the library for quiet reading time with the kids. We each grab a book and try to squeeze everyone onto the loveseat. I get another elbow to the ribs and a head butt to my nose and just as my eyes start to well up with uninvited tears, HE walks in to the room. He stares at me with that look on his face; the look that tells me that he’s ready for it….”PFTHRARTPH!” Along with a leg lift towards me, he proceeds with his nasty fumes that sounds like he might actually need to go change his pants. Why does he have to enter the room I’m in to do it? What kind of sick fetish is that? As he is in hysterics at my look of disgust I run away from him with both babies in tow.  “ ‘A’, don’t run! Please don’t run! I have another one coming!” Gasp. He’s such a foul pig!

Dinner time is a freaking nightmare. No longer do ‘C’ and I get to stare longingly in to each other’s eyes. In fact, I can’t remember the last time he and I looked at each other over the utter chaos that is our current situation. With 6 month old twins and a 3 and 6 year old we have said sayonara to those dinners. The last time we had a dinner like that, I popped out TWO babies 8 1/2 months later and now I’m just petrified.

As bed time approaches, I can almost feel how dark my circles are becoming. I glance in the mirror and take a look at my pathetic self with a different twin on my boob. Then quickly look away from the reflection since it’s so sad to see myself like this. I quickly lick my front teeth before I bite my lip to hold back the tears. Oh Crap, I forgot to brush my teeth today! And what the heck happened to my skin? And my hair is just plain gross. Maybe I should wash my hair the next time I shower? My inner goddess is facing the corner rocking in the fetal position sucking her thumb. She’s given up on me and I’m too damn tired to give a shit. Those twins haven’t slept since they were in utero.

The 3 year old is a nightmare and I can’t help but blame her spoiled brattiness on HIM.  I mean, what the hell was he thinking buying her a boat for her 3rd birthday? Is he an idiot? We need to discuss these things with Dr. ‘F’ because this has got to change or else our kids will become just as messed up as he is.

I slump on our bed after getting the kids to sleep for the moment and stare at the ceiling. What a beautiful ceiling it is. ‘C’ comes in with a handful of nuts, eating each one in my vicinity, with his mouth open nonetheless. I don’t care how beautiful he is. His jaw pops with every bite down and my peace has now vanished. “Pop. Pop. Pop”. I continue trying to find my happy place, but the popping is starting to echo in my head. My subconscious is telling me to stay quiet and not to say anything out of respect for my husband.  Screw off you goody two shoes….I. JUST. CAN’T. TAKE IT ANYMORE!! “WOULD YOU CLOSE YOUR FREAKING MOUTH WHILE YOU CHEW?!?!?!? AND GET THAT POP IN YOUR JAW CHECKED OUT!!” His response. “What the hell is wrong with you? PMS?” I don’t respond since I know it can escalate and I don’t have the energy. I continue staring at the ceiling.

Why didn’t I hire a nanny again? Oh  Because I was needing to prove to myself that I could do it. Well, I’m done with that ridiculous thinking. A tear of failure falls down my right cheek. He walks over to me, wipes the tear from my face and says, “I’m going golfing in the morning so I won’t see you until tomorrow night.” Then he gives me the ever endearing boob “honk” and says he wants to get some. I look at him like he’s a mysterious creature. Is he for real? So I ask him, “Are you for real?”  “Yeah, baby. Come on, it’ll be quick.” Ugh. So I roll over, tell him to hurry up and please, don’t worry about my needs. Just as he finishes, we hear a cry on the monitor and I get up without saying anything. In an almost robotic fashion, I head out the bedroom door.

He stops me. Turns me around and says, “I’ll get him.”

And my body quivers. That’s LOVE right there.

If you’re going to spare the rod, can I do it for you?

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*Quick disclaimer* I absolutely believe there is a HUGE difference between spanking and abusing your child. I have to write that first because I know some people think it’s the same thing, which is RIDICULOUS! We use spankings ONLY when warranted and don’t use it as our first response. Spankings are rare, but I’m not ashamed to say we practice that method when needed.

This blogpost is in response to a photo of a quote that I saw the other day on Facebook that said, “I’m afraid of a world run by adults who were never spanked as children and got trophies just for participating.” That was an immediate “like” and I ended up “sharing” on my page. My thoughts on that quote are simple: People. Put your kids in line and do it NOW. Give them the gift of manners and respect. Oh, and please teach your kids how important it is to try hard to win, but also to lose with grace and dignity.

I get a glimpse of our future every time we are at the park, store or anywhere else children are with their parents and frankly I’m scuuuurred. These children as young as 3 and 4 have the audacity to speak in utter disrespect to you without an ounce of fear. Why is it allowed? Because parents are afraid of their own children, which I find pathetic and infuriating. They’re afraid of the work that will be involved with disciplining. “Yes mother of so and so, you will actually have to get up out of the chair, stop your discussion with your friend, go over to your child, grab them by the arm and take them to a private area and *GASP* discipline your child. Why? Because your child just spoke to you like you’re dogcrap, that’s why. And he thinks he can because you did nothing about it as usual.

A few weeks ago at church my pastor’s full hour long discussion was about spanking. The entire time throughout that hour I wanted to stand up, throw my hand in the air and yell, “AMEN!!” He hit the nail on the head when it came to WHY our children need to get that reminder. If they don’t have that little ounce of fear that their actions could result in a spanking, what’s going to stop them from doing it or thinking that it’s perfectly asseptable (spoken like Supernanny) behavior? Nothing.

The argument that spanking shows your child that hitting is ok is insane to me. Really? I have to say that the kids I know who are not spanked are the ones that are the most physically violent. What’s stopping them? A loooooooooooooooooooong winded discussion on how bodies need to be respected and when you kick, it hurts their heart and blah, blah, blah. They stopped listening to you after you said, “Honey, when you kick…” So what did they learn? That if they kick, there is no consequence other than cuddling with mom explaining something about something.

We do time-outs still, but I know that time-outs only go so far. Yes, they work when you’re not in the privacy of your own home or if it’s just a way to say, “I saw/heard what you did. I don’t like it. Don’t do it again.” But that’s the extent of what it teaches. The problem with timeouts for me is I tend to forget about my children so I get the, “Mom, is it time yet?” Ooops. WITHOUT apologizing for forgetting them, I pretend nothing is wrong with their 10 minute sit on the stair because honestly, what’s the harm in giving them extra time to think about what they did….or learning to be innovative by picking at the carpet and making a game out of it, which is what happens after the first 30 seconds. “Roman. I asked you to stop bouncing the ball in the house. You didn’t stop. Not listening to me is disrespectful. When I say something, you listen. Understand?!”

A spanking happens very rarely in our house nowadays so if and when they get one it’s devastating and makes an impression. That’s the point, right? My spankings don’t hurt and I’m fully aware of that…but my kids simply just don’t like the idea that they did something wrong/dangerous/disrespectful enough to warrant one. They also know that a spanking will also be accompanied with a call to their dad. They have both gained so much respect from him that they already don’t want his disapproval. Thank God for him.

I hear so many parents threaten a spanking over and over and over and OVER….here’s the deal, if you’re at my house and your kid is acting like a little turd or speaking to either of us rude and disrespectfully, you have my 100% permission to go anywhere in my home to take care of the situation. Don’t worry about what I might think because I can guarantee you that my thoughts are envisioning doing it myself.

In the words of my pastor, “When they are children, you MAKE them respect you so that when they’re adults they will WANT to respect you.” If you let your kid run all over you what are they learning? They can do whatever they want, whenever they want to whomever they want. And thanks to your lack of discipline, your kids are now on the road to being those crappy adults that make everyone’s lives miserable.

Another thing society is starting to teach children is that “EVERYBODY WINS!” Um. No. Please don’t give my child a trophy if  they didn’t earn it.  Don’t make up the end of the game to where no one wins or loses or that everybody wins and gets a prize. This is not the way the real world works people. In real life, there are winners, losers and everyone in between. We have to teach our kids to strive to win, but be okay if they don’t. It’s perfectly fine for your child to be upset for trying hard, practicing at something and doing their best….but coming in second place. They’ll move on and work harder at it if it’s something they want bad enough. Am I right?

Now I say this knowing full well that my kids are young and I have not a leg to stand on when it comes to how they will turn out as adults. BUT for now I don’t have to worry about how they will behave to adults and other children. And if my kids turn in to crappy adults I will eat some humble pie right in front of you and hang my head in shame.

Diagnosis: Achluophobia

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***Ok, real quick. As I was looking up the phobia of being afraid of the dark, I came across a list of hundreds of other phobias. I might be afraid of the dark and actual scary things, but fear of opinions, numbers, wind…sheesh, that’s gotta be tough!***

As I leap to the bed again tonight, I wonder if more people are as afraid of the ankle grabber as I am?

Please say yes.

I have leapt in, and sadly enough out, of my bed since….I think…6 years old. And I have many people to blame:

(these reasons make my debilitating issue warranted….to me anyway)

1. My parents for not finding me behind the couch in a stupor while secretly watching The Exorcist at 6 years old never, EVER to be the same again. Was allowing me to continue to watch just a punishment for getting out of bed? What, you never heard of a spanking??

2. My grandparents for continuously reminding us of La Llorona. Was there anything creepier as a kid?

3. The all petrifying stories my Grandpa Chavez would tell us of the young teenager being disrespectful to his parents and finding a baby with a mouth full of teeth that spoke in a deep voice calling himself *dun, dun, dun* The Devil!! Teen was never found.

4. Tom, early in our marriage, popping out behind doors to scare me…that shit ended quick when I convincingly threatened to punch him in his throat the next time he did it.

5. My dad’s scary story of the damn monster who grabbed your ankles as you stood next to it of !! Go figure I’m paranoid of that!!

6. My sisters…ahhh…those ever loving OLDER sisters who love to tease. I remember when Natalie would tease me by talking in a low voice when we shared a room in high school saying “I’m going to get you…” “Natalie, stop it!!!” her “What? I’m trying to sleep so be quiet!!” me “I heard you. Stop.” her “I’m coming for you…” me “KNOCK IT OFF!! MOOOOOoooooM!!!!” her “ahahaha.”


7. Sorry mom, but I have to call you out as well…The sweet and light hearted nap time story of the beast from the “M” mountain who would come down at nap time and look through windows and take children who were still awake.

Actually mom, that’s genius and I wish I would have tried it with my own non-napping children.


So here I am, a nearly 33 year old (reminder:I’m still 32) freaking out bc of the noises coming from my mom’s kitchen. I’m sitting in bed wondering at what point I will see a figure walk by that stares blankly at me. This is her new house that’s perfect and gorgeous and lovely, but I can’t put it out of my mind that Reagan’s face could appear at any moment.

Funny thing is, I used to LOVE horror movies until I first had Carissa and The Exorcism of Emily Rose was coming in theaters. One night as I was up nursing her and her non-sleeping little self, I saw the trailer. I was freaked out and from then on refused to watch tv in the middle of the night because of it. Only horror flick I’ve seen since then is the Paranormal ones and each gave me nightmares for weeks.

Thankfully, Tom finally let my fixation for turning on lights throughout the house go after we were married 7 or so years. It used to be a thing (not a good one) between us, but now he has just realized how pathetic I am and gives me time to “chase the light switch”: He turns one on as I turn one off…

That’s love right there.

But the weirdest part?  I picture myself in a situation with the scariest of monsters, HUMANS, and I find that 10 times out of 10 I’m on Dateline or 20/20 sharing my story of survival. Put me with a scary, devilish, creepy ghost and I’m pretty sure I keel over and let the monstrous creature do the inevitable; but thankfully I’ll have gone in to shock and won’t feel a thing.

The most embarrassing part is that the kids will eventually learn of this issue as they get older. For now, when they wake up from a bad dream I have to turn on my acting skills that still work like a charm. Carissa: “Mom, I saw a ghost walk across my room. Me: “Oh honey, you were just having a nightmare. There’s no such thing as ghosts.” Then I lay with her in the dark, pulling the covers up to my nose scared shitless and praying I don’t see it, too.


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There has been no other time in my adult life where I have felt more useless. And no, I’m not asking for violins or comments trying to make me feel better. I just want to talk about the difficulty of trying to get out in the workforce after staying at home for 7+ years. This post kind of ties in to one of my older ones: Career of Choice: Professional Mom?

Job-hunting has been a HUGE eye opener for me. My only reason for going back to work was to try and get us near my family again. I was willing to make tons of sacrifices in order to make that happen; main one was relinquishing my ever loving role of being a stay at home mom. So over the past 3 weeks I have embarked on “hittin’ the pavement” trying to find a decent paying job that has health benefits. How hard could it be, right? In an 8.2% unemployment rate and having minimal work experience to even present on my resume? Talk about having to be pretty darn creative filling up 10 years of experience space! Scentsy April 2011-present. Ok, so I’ve been doing well with it, but I’m sure I’ve given more hiring managers a chuckle or two when they see it on my resume. What in the world was I expecting? Alright, I was at least expecting a job offer below my expectations…but not ZERO. **cue deflated ego balloon**
Here is an email from this morning. About sums up every courtesy email I’ve gotten. haha


So of course it has made me re-evaluate what my goals were before children. After receiving the ever worthless-unless-you-have-a-Master’s-or-want-to-be-a-probation,-parole-or corrections-officer Bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice. The goal at 22 was to go to Law School and be a badass attorney. Then we chose to start a family after I graduated. My goals for being a lawyer has changed; j ust because I am a damn good arguer (and enjoy winning them) in my personal life doesn’t make me fit for it as a career. Unless there are some lawyers out there who have flexible hours and are allotted time to spend with their families. Ya, didn’t think so.

Now that I’ve had a HUGE reality check these past few weeks, I can’t help but feel like a big, FAT loser…again, not asking for sympathy. I know I’m not truly a LOSER, but when it comes to the answer to this question: What the heck would I do if something happened to Tom? Or if something unexpected happens, like a curve ball in life as it’s been known to happen. I’d be staring at the ceiling pondering what on God’s green earth am I qualified to do in order to support the family. Ok, so we have life insurance as Tom states. But I still need to find a way to make an income that earns more than $10/hour!!

So my solution to all of this: I need to go back to school and get my Master’s. Period. I’ve been contemplating it for YEARS because I always pictured myself having a higher education. However, up until now I haven’t felt that nudge to make it happen. I’m 33 years old in a week which is still young in the whole grand scheme of things. My mom went back to school after the rug was ripped from under her and having teenage girls to take care of. She finished nursing school at 44 and has had the ability to find work anytime, anywhere under some of the most strenuous circumstances. I want that security in myself knowing that if something happened, I would be able to take care of my family if need be.

So I’m going to start slowly since I only have one year left at home with Roman before he starts Kindergarten, and I want that time with him. Once he’s in school, I have to make it a priority to fulfill one of my life’s goals of getting a Master’s. And heck, maybe I won’t stop there. Oprah got her doctorate in her 60’s didn’t she? Although, I’m not sure what “honourary” doctorate means, but I want it dammit! Not really. But I do want to be able to say, “I’m going to get a J-O-B,” and actually get one. haha

PS-I am sharing all of this with you so it puts more pressure on me to make it happen. What’s a better motivator than fear of failure, right? 😉

Babies, babies, BABIES!!

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Everywhere I turn someone is having their third, fourth and even fifth baby and it’s making me feel inadequate. My mentality all my life has been, “If they can do it, then why shouldn’t I be able to?” So when I hear of another friend having a baby, that mentality hits me and I realize that wait, unless it’s by immaculate conception there is no way I can get pregnant. Then I shake my fist in the air and mumble a few curse words to myself because it makes me feel better.

I know that we can’t have children just because “everyone else is”, but it goes deeper than that for me. The idea that I ONLY have two can’t seem to escape my mind. Why can’t I be “mom” enough to have three or four? I feel that because we called it quits at two, that makes me the defeated one in this mom club that we indirectly put ourselves in that moment we get pregnant with our first.

Whenever I hold a baby I come home and ask Tom to get a reversal. He finds it funny that I would even ask. I think it’s funny, too, but then I ask him again 6 months later and he laughs again. It’s become an ongoing joke between us because he and I both know that the baby stage for us was tough. That’s hard to admit as a mother.  The cause: Our kids didn’t sleep. EVER. Plain and simple. You know when you hear of someone having a newborn and they say, “My 2 month old already sleeps through the night!” the normal response should be, “Oh, that’s so wonderful!” Well, my face says that, but the response in my head is, “Screw off! Lies! They’re all LIES!!!” When that month mark hits and the baby actually wakes up from their sleep stage after coming out of the womb, my babies slept in 20-30 minute stretches causing me to question my parenting tactics daily. Yes, that first year when it came to nap or bedtime, I  dreaded it knowing it was going to be a struggle for both of us.

Sadly, this is how I remember the baby stage. lol There was a lot of this going on. All that’s missing is a third picture of ME with circles under my eyes and a little loony from sleep deprivation.
What I remember....Also, what I remember....haha

Then I think, if I had a third it would be different. I wouldn’t put so much pressure on if they slept or not. I would just let them fall asleep on their own whenever they wanted to. Everything would be blissful. Right? Then my ever endearing husband reminds me of the what ifs. What if the third is tougher than the others? *Gasp* That makes me shudder a little just thinking about it. My kids got easier for me at what is known as the “TERRIBLE TWOS”, if that gives you any indication to how the baby stage was for me. Why? Because they SLEPT through the night! They still sleep 12 hours at night and I believe they’re making up for when they should have been sleeping 18 hours as babies instead of 6.

So then I ponder with the idea of adoption and Tom, again (bless this man), reminds me that we are officially at that stage with the kids where traveling becomes easier, no naps are required, they dress and feed themselves, no diapers and in one more year both kids will be in school and I can start focusing on the next chapter in MY life. Getting a little jobby job.  That is all very enticing for sure!

**Don’t let these little “sleeping” angels fool you. I know for a fact these were 10 minute naps at only a couple of weeks old. And yes, swaddling was big in our house and I’m not quite sure why that wasn’t the case in either of these pictures…You know how most babies grow out of the swaddle at 5 or so months?  I swaddled both of them until they were a year old bc it was the only way they would sleep longer than 10 minutes. I’m laughing to myself this very moment picturing my big ol’ babies swaddled like newborns.)**

Carissa snoozing for her 10 minute nap. :)Roman, snoozing for his 10 minute nap. :)
So here’s the question: Why can’t I let it go? I have two wonderful kids that are growing in to such fantastic little human beings. Could it be because of the whole philosophy ‘you want what you can’t have?’ Maybe if I knew I could get pregnant I’d be VERY careful to make sure it didn’t happen, but because I know I CAN’T  I want a baby even more. I dunno. Usually blogging about it gives me my answer by the time I finish, but this time I’m still right where I started…wanting to hold a perfect little newbie…who sleeps when they’re supposed to. 🙂