Winging it...

I've really wanted to blog for a long time, but was overwhelmed by, well, life.  Aren't we all.  Also I was overwhelmed with that blank screen and cursor winking at me repeatedly.  That said, I am nearly finished with a writing class that has been so awesomescaryfuneyeopeningaffirmingencouraging.  So I am going to start putting my life out there (here). Best of luck to me. I just patted myself on the back.

Life is good. I am thankful for friendships. Grateful for strong women to connect with and share the aches and pains. I love my kids, love my husband. I love running. Ran my first marathon in November. Trying to enjoy the process of life. Not "back then" and not "when I get there." The road is bumpy but one that I want to travel.

Am I an Optomist or a Realist

WTH?  I don't even know.

It's very difficult explaining to people who care to ask.  But.  The only thing I have is that my step-mother-in-law is now facing "incurable, Stage IV (eff those roman numerals) breast cancer."  I hate it.  How do I describe my relationship with Charlotte?  It's hard because sometimes I worry about who I might piss off.  Like, MY mother?  My "blood" mother-in-law...

Charlotte is my go-to girl.  I have my go-to guy, but she is next in line.  And sometimes first in line.  That's just how girlfriends are.  But she's not my "friend" specifically.  She's  not my "mil" specifically.  What is she to me?  She is who I call after I drop Lucy and Quin off at school and I have a 15 minute drive to Emmett's school.  She's who I text, not all that often, because I would rather hear her voice, but...

I Am Not Above This

I don't believe in leashes.  Really I don't.  And I don't think I will ever use one, just so we're clear.  BUT I used to say I would NEVER use one.  Never ever and now I don't think I will ever use one.  So, we'll see how slick this slide is.

Emmett is a runner.  He either runs 20 yards ahead of me into a parking lot or lags 37 paces behind me on walks back from the park.  I have tried "heel", but he isn't getting the concept.  Kidding.  I don't tell my kid to heel, silly.  But I think it.  And I write about it. 

Just wanted to let you know where I'm at.

It's Fun To Stay At The...

I got a job today.  At the gym.  In the child care.  I always never ever said I would do that.  For me the gym is a place where I go to get MY time.  But, desperate times, well, not DESPERATE desperate, but just, I NEED SOME FREAKING MONEY HONEY desperate times call for desperate measures.

Perks include:

• I can bring my kids
• I get a free membership
• I get free classes
• It's just two mornings a week 
• I get a discount on what I pay for childcare
• I can work out at work
• I get paid.  A VERY LITTLE TINY BIT.

Non-perks include:

• I can bring my kids
• I don't really want to work out at work
• I get paid.  A VERY LITTLE TINY BIT.

I'm excited/I'm not excited.  I have tons of experience.  I think I once read something somewhere about not sh!tting where you eat though.  

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

We have been getting rid of baby things as Nolan finishes with them. Some of them have left me with a twinge of sadness, but none have made me as heartbroken as saying goodbye to my trusty breast pump.

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND! I hate despise loathe detest abhor pumping. With my first three kids I was working, so every morning I would rise early and pump before leaving for work (even on days when I wasn't working I would do this to build my stash). I would then pack everything up and lug it to work, breaking to pump at lunch and sometimes once in the afternoon. What a pain in the ass.

I suppose it's saying goodbye to a relationship. We laughed together, cried together, paid bills over the phone together ("hope you don't mind the sound of my treadmill!"), surfed the internets together, OH GOD DID WE EVER!

My best friend is about to have a baby and I am delivering said pump to her. This weekend. And even though I haven't pumped in MONTHS (N refuses bottle), I swear. to. god. i. am. going. to. have. me. one. last. pump. in. the. morning.

STFU

I love STFU parents. It is a hilarious website and I certainly have people in my life who fit the bill. Actually considering submitting a few updates from a friend of mine currently. It's just maddening. I love STFU so much that I think I would like to see another one started.

STFU WORKOUT MANIACS!!! you know who you are. The ones who post a fb status about the fabulous "tempo run" you had tonight at the gym. Sometimes you write about food too. Sometimes you're really really lame like Ryan S**** on my friends yesterday posted that he had RAN 1.06 miles with a time of 16:04. Er, Ryan, that's called WALKING. I know I know, I've been guilty of this in the past, but thankfully I have seen the light y'all. No. One. Cares. Except. You. So keep it to yourself.

Exceptions are: marathon runners (hey, I'll even give you a 1/2 marathon) and Ironman Triathalon finishers, also Special Olympics. Go ahead and give a little shout out. You deserve it. But still, we don't need the nitty gritty details of your training schedule.

unsolicited advice

This morning after I dropped L and Q off at school I took the little boys to Target to pick up a few things. Emmett, well, he's just "full of personality". We made our way over to the food section at the end of our trip to pick up a few things. One being a pound of ground beef. He took one look at it and dry heaved, gagging out loud and saying (LOUDLY), "Yuck! Blech! Gross Mommy!"

I was dying laughing. Like body shaking laughter. Probably because he learned that from me, champion queen of being revolted by the mere idea of raw meat.

I noticed a woman looking at us and we made eye contact.

Her: "YOU KNOW, if you LAUGH out loud it will only ENCOURAGE him to keep behaving that way!"

I'll bet her kids never come and visit. Never call, never write...

On No More Babies...

Kirk got a vasectomy. In all honesty, someone had to stop the madness. I could keep having babies forever. And I would. Clearly. But we both knew that it was time to stop. I can't handle any more children emotionally, spiritually, financially. I already feel stretched as it is. In more ways than one.

Having Nolan was hard on Lucy. The bigger the age gap I think the harder it is to add another. I thought she would be so excited when he was here and she was, don't get me wrong. BUT he has really "cramped her style". He needs a nap when she wants to stay at the pool for another hour. I need a nap because I've been up with him all night (horrible sleeper). One of her chores on her chore chart is "feed baby" while I cook dinner and Quin sets the table.

So I made the appointment back in October. And he went to his consult in November. And he went for his "procedure" in December. And I didn't back out. Because I'm sure. But you can bet your ass I was pacing that waiting room floor like an expectant father while he was back there.

As much as I dislike the physical parts of being pregnant, I love the rest. I feel like I'm in such a good place, focusing on a (relatively) short-term goal. Everything revolves around being pregnant. But a beautiful part of being a mother is growing with your children and enjoying each stage. And the more space between the children the harder that is to do, at least for me.

So today when we were running and we passed an extremely pregnant and smiley woman, my friend said, "DON'T LOOK!"

christmas 1

Merry Blossoms Christmas Card

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I Once Was Lost But Now Am Found

I thought the world would end. Yesterday I spent a good 78 minutes going through the files. I laughed, I cried. I sobbed when I finally finished without finding any of the kids' cards with the exception of Quin. I had been alone back by the computer and upon the conclusion of my search I walked into the living room, tears running down my face and said to Kirk, "They're gone!"

He, unaware of the angst that was taking place in the back room was surprised to say the least. I sobbed my way upstairs to take a shower because who doesn't like a good cry in the shower? It's my adult version of dramatic crying. Teenage version was always done in front of the bathroom mirror. It would always make me cry harder to see myself crying. And oh the raging hormones. I could be in there for an hour. Glad I've moved on to the shower thing. It's much more normal.

While I was crying in the shower I don't know WHAT MADE ME REMEMBER THEY ARE ALL IN THE BABY BOOKS! The only thing in Emmett's baby book as a matter of fact. I finished my cry, raced downstairs with a smile on my puffy face and ceremoniously ripped those books out of the bookshelves, tore them open and BOOM, pictures. Kirk was, to say the least, surprised. Again.

Religious Instruction Fail

This morning we were skipping church per our usual at this time. I was instead devoting my time to going through all of the file folders in my filing cabinet, especially the kids' since I was looking for their Christmas cards. And by "their Christmas cards" I mean the ones that I save for them each and every year with a lovely letter I write to them on the back telling them about their year and just basically how much they rock. This is the ONLY thing I do. I suck at baby books and I mentally pat myself on the back for keeping up with this ONE thing. Oh, also pictures, those are at least organized and BACKED UP praise the Lord into folders every month. I am awesome.

Evidently Emmett has been in the files because there are old LG&E bills in his folder, etc. AND ONLY QUIN'S CHRISTMAS CARDS. I feel sick to my stomach.

The funny thing is that I did them last year. But we moved. If I don't find them I will surely die.

Another funny thing is that isn't even what this blog was going to be about. When Quin and I were looking through his special stuff he found an envelope that was given to him by our old church when we had him dedicated to God which I don't even know how I feel about that anymore wow. On the envelope it says, "To be opened on your baptism".

Q says, "What is baptize?"

How do you explain that to a kid? Lucy knows because she has been in church with us and has seen them week after week. So I told him that it's when they dunk you under the water at church. He looked at me with an absolutely bewildered expression on his face, paused for about nine seconds and finally said, "You mean, like, in the TOILET?"

Day One - Something You Hate About Yourself

30 Days of Truth is an exercise on being honest with yourself and letting people in to witness the dialogue. For thirty days, write about one subject that forces you to be introspective. Dig deep.

Every time I decide to start blogging I sit here and can't think of a damn thing to say. I thought doing the 30 days thing might help me. Or not.

And the first one? Oh, SO great. Something I hate about myself. I immediately started thinking, "hmm, horribly disfigured c-section mangled stomach, NO, my fucking NOSE I HATE MY NOSE, no, what about my upper thighs".

I really was going back and forth between all of the physical things that I hate about my body. And then I thought, I actually really hate that the first thing I think of to hate is something body image related. How lame is that? So the thing that I hate about myself is how obsessed I am with what is on the outside. Because you know what? It doesn't seem to be getting any better and I am fairly confident it's only downhill from here so I am going to attempt to shift my focus to things that are more important. Like....hmmmm.