To the mom of the wheelchair bound girl in the grocery store…

Why, hello. I am sorry you caught me staring at you and your family the other day in the grocery store. Twice. Okay, maybe you noticed me in all three aisles. I am sorry if my stares or expression hurt or offended you.

The thing is, I really can’t help myself. She is absolutely beautiful.. And your parenting is absolutely amazing.

Really, she is gorgeous. I should know, I gawked at her the whole time I shared an aisle with the three of you.

As you were squinting, browsing for salsa or refried beans and gripping the handles of her chair, your son (maybe nine or so?) pushed the cart and added items with your permission. I pushed my own cart down the opposite side of the aisle. I grabbed my can of SpaghettiOs and turned and just looked at her. One hand almost neatly tucked beside her petite frame, and the other contorted a bit up towards her face, playing with her bottom lip. She was kind of singing or humming. And she was smiling.

She (I feel awful not having a proper pronoun to give to her) made eye contact with me for a second, and I immediately looked away. I was a little embarrassed that she caught me. As I turned back to my own buggy, the humming stopped.

Feeling like a jerk, I pushed my cart on down and away. But then, our paths crossed in the frozen foods section. As I turned and drew nearer to you, I heard you asking her which ice cream she wanted, vanilla or strawberry. She didn’t really respond to either. Your son complained that he wanted rocky road with the chocolate covered peanuts, but you rested your hand on his shoulder and patiently reminded him “honey, we can’t. Sissy cannot have anything hard or else she might choke.” He replied “I know. Sorry, mom. Sorry, Sis,” and he reached over and tickled her chin a bit. Sissy giggled from her chair and rocked a little too hard, hitting a glass jar of hot fudge out of your hand and onto the floor. It shattered.

Before anything else was said, Sissy began to wail and moan and release guttural sounds from deep inside herself, and rock her body in her chair. I was panicking on the inside. I didn’t know what to do, or how to help, so I just stood there. I was almost a little afraid I would offend you if I offered help; that somehow I would have been saying that I didn’t think you could do it on your own. And you absolutely could.

Without even missing a beat, you said nothing about the broken glass jar and started singing the same tune as Sissy had been humming three aisles back. You stroked her pink cheek and pushed the dark brown hair that was sticking to tears from her face. She resisted and arched her back, pushing her torso closer but her face farther from you. You pushed her chair a little away from the mess and got down to her level. I wanted to look away, to give your family the privacy I assume you wanted, but I simply couldn’t.

You gently took her face in the cups of your palms. She hit you. You didn’t let go or get mad. You said, “hey sis. Sissy. It’s okay. Come back out here with mama.” She wailed again. My eyes watered. By this point, a few other shoppers stopped and watched, as well. She was so upset that she was drooling and spitting as she carried on. You kept on, remained steady “Shhh. It’s okay sissy. Find mama’s eyes. Breathe with me.” She began to quiet, to listen, to come back to you. You were such a pro at this that I began breathing with the exaggerated breathe in…breathe out rhythm you established. Shortly after, she was calm and content again. Her eyes still glazed with tears as you gently caressed her cheek with the back of your index finger. She cooed and smiled back at you as an infant would. Through the chaos, your son had cleaned most of the mess up with baby wipes from your bag and a store associate came to finish cleaning. The crowd moved on. But not me. I was frozen there, in awe. As you walked by me, You sweetly turned your face to me and smiled.

You and your family walked on past. Like life was still normal (well, whatever normal is) and nothing had just happened. And I stood there, dumbfounded next to the Ben & Jerry’s, perplexed. I was in total amazement at how gracefully and plainly you handled it. You are obviously the best mom ever. I fret so much over the repercussions of telling Little Mister “no” in the market. And you just handled something much larger with more poise and tact than anyone I have ever seen. I gathered my thoughts, grabbed my list, and assumed I wouldn’t see you again because had that been me, I would have probably gave up on shopping for the day and told myself that peanut butter sandwiches and ramen noodles would be fine again.

A couple aisles down I was crouching, checking dates on half gallons of milk. And then, the humming again. You all had just turned the corner and I was at eye level only a few feet from her. I turned toward your daughter, and when our eyes met her adorably over bitten mouth smiled and she slowly turned her head from one side to the other. Her smile made me smile. It melted me a little. A lot. As she slowly blinked, it was as though her eyes contained the light of a purely beautiful, expressive, and wise soul, and it was apparent that her words were not meant for this world, for my world. But her smile sure was. She let out a snort of a laugh and covered her mouth, and I scrunched up my nose, giggled, and stood up. That’s the second time I know you caught me. “She’s truly precious” I said. You simply nodded and said, “Thanks”. We didn’t see one another again though.

You, my dear, are a spectacular mother. I hardly doubt you had planned on having a child who would be so dependent upon you, so differently designed, but I am quite sure that God planned on having that very child especially made for you. You were so in sync with her needs and wants. You were present with both your son and your daughter. You didn’t panic in times that most of us would have. You are my hero.

You see, fellow mom, I want to be more like you. I want to not worry about what people think of me or my kids or my situation. I want to just live it and own it and not feel the need to apologize for everything I do. I want to love my child so much that even when he does something that shatters what I want or hope for, I still have the will and strength to meet him where he is, and wait patiently for him to find his way back to me in this world; and I won’t apologize to anybody for it, because I will be confident that we were just being us, and that we are okay.

I wrote you this letter because you inspire me. I don’t know who you are or if you’re even from around here. But I hope I see you again. Next time I won’t be so shy, I will offer help, I will ask how your day is. Thank you, random, awesome mom, because your unique experience teaches people like me a million ways our parenting could be better from one interaction in a supermarket. You’re simply awesome.

Sincerely,

Laura

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22.I finally found the time to mail a package to a friend that I was supposed to send a month ago!! Oops! But now it’s off my todo list
23. Jase had his monthly in home appointment with the lady we work with on his language and well as emotional and behavioral deficits/struggles. She asked me if I had a degree in early childhood education and said that she was shocked I didn’t! What a compliment!
24. Today would have been my Nana’s 87th birthday!! Celebrating her in my soul today!!! Love her still.

What You Always Wanted To Know About the Infertile Stepmom…

Despite nearly a decade of trying and wishing, I have birthed no live children, yet there is a little boy who calls me mommy. The world doesn’t seem to know how to respond to us, so here is some insight into the life of a childless [step]mom.

1. The fact that a live child has not yet (or may never) pass from my womb into the living world makes me no less of a woman than you are. In fact, it makes me no less of a mother. The capacity to love a child to the point that if the situation presented, I would give up my last breath to save him is not just within me, it is the very definition of my love for my son.

2. I will no longer demean or belittle my love for my child by adding a degree of separation because it makes anybody else more comfortable. No longer an extra, or a bonus or a step to appease anybody. The boy did not grow inside of my loins, but together we have excavated a place for him within the very organ that keeps my blood flowing. He has made that place his own, and it will always belong to him. He doesn’t have to know what my heartbeat sounds like from the inside, for, he has its sound memorized from nights of being rocked to sleep with his head upon my chest, soothed by my heart’s steady, rhythmic bu-bum bu-bum.Believe me, the boy knows my heart.

3. The name, or title or, whatever he wants to call me will not be my choice, or Daddy’s choice, or anybody else’s. It will be the boy’s choice. Right now he follows me around chirping, “mom, mum, mummy, mama, wawa.” I eat up every moment of that, because I am not a fool; I know that the day will likely come that having a mom here and a mom there isweird. But maybe not. Either way, I have prepared my heart for then, and I will graciously accept whatever title the boy gives me.

4. No, I do not just wish his Other mom would disappear. Admittedly, in the beginning when we were all a bit younger, and the boy was still so new, I think know that she and I both felt this way about each other. Out of ignorance , selfishness, naivety, perhaps. However time has passed and we have grown to recognize and appreciate the role that the other plays. To my knowledge, She is not intimidated by my experience, and I am no longer threatened by biology. So no, I do not want Her to disappear, and neither should you. The boy only exists because of her; he loves her. Therefore, she is just as much a part of my family as the boy is.

5. Yes, I can and truly do love him as if I conceived, carried, and birthed him. If you can’t understand that, then fuck you. Yes, I said that. Don’t tell me that my feelings for the boy aren’t the same as yours for your real child, that I will understand what you’re saying if and when I have a child of my own someday. I know me. I know my love. I don’t need you to validate that for me.

6. My family is complete. Don’t get me wrong. Every fiber of my being longs for babies lost or a new miracle sibling for the boy. But I am happy, content, fulfilled totally by the number of beating hearts in my home. My walls may be filled with photographs of the same three faces, but those walls (and my heart) are still full.

7. A custody battle doesn’t come out with a winner. Don’t tell me you hope we win. It does come out with a loser, though. And you know who loses the most…the boy. Right now he spends half of his life with one family, and half with another. This has been his life since he was three months old. It is his reality, his story, and he is well-adjusted and happy, considering the confusion. If we have to “battle” this out and change from 50/50 to any other situation, the boy loses a family to a massive degree. We aren’t facing that now, and I pray that we never have to face it again, for his sake. Do not talk casually about our custody situation. It is a serious thing. Thank God you don’t have to deal with it, if you don’t.

8. The boy will always know the truth. I will not lie to him to protect him, for this is a cruel, dark world and I am not giving anybody ammunition to crush it for him. However, I will strive to teach the boy to find the light, to see beauty in the world, and to seek adventure. I will use a kind voice, gentle hands, and embrace him with open, merciful, and comforting arms. Simply because his life wasn’t planned, doesn’t mean that we cannot plan and wish great things for his life.

———

And I’ve been keeping track of my 1,000 gifts, here’s Friday thru Tuesday,

7. The week is drawing to an end with a gorgeous day on the forecast for Saturday.
8. The hilarious sight of my ninety pound dog perched on the back of the couch like a cat, watching the squirrels play in the yard.
9. An unexpected chat with a daycare mom where my advice was requested, many laughs were had, and some good verbal processing on a tough life situation.
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10. What a beautiful day for a wedding of an old friend. She looked beautiful and was so gracious and appreciative of everything!
11. A little extra time dancing and enjoying life with my boss after work. Living in the moment, letting loose, and dancing like nobody was watching.
12. A husband who supports my weekend job and the time out afterwards, even when it cuts into what would be our time together.
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13. A niche community of people who are kind, personable, and non-judgmental.
14. Rain!! Looking forward to a greener world, and soon!
15. Picked up the boy and he was sweet, happy, and affectionate. How Iove him.
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16. Morning cuddles and sweet kisses from the boy on my nose, ears, and eyes to wake me up this morning. I will feign sleep any day for that wake up call.
17. Naps. All around.
18. A husband who appreciated and seemed to actually enjoy the roast I made. After cooking and smelling it all day, as well as not being a big fan of beef, I wasn’t a fan. So glad he liked it though.
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19. The sweet, awkward and adorable dance moves the boy does to the theme song of the show House. Too freakin cute.
20. An evening with nieces and nephews. Can’t really go wrong there.
21. My mom and dad are so the best. Seeing them, even for a few minutes at a time, interact with the boy still melts my heart.

The best compliment I have ever been given…

Yesterday wasn’t a massively unique day.  Kids, snacks, play, naps.  That kind of day.  Chipped away at the massive amount of work I have due this week (midterms!) and decided to color my hair.  So really no big deal.  I especially enjoyed the coloring my hair part; I even went a dark chocolate brown with coppery peek-a-boo highlight…very out of the box for me and my typical black with bleached out chunks turned blue, purple, even green.  I even made the joke about how much more “employable” I am with such a normal hair color!  This is different for me.  

Since I was rocking a new color, I took the time to put some makeup on…if you know me you know that there are two very different looks for me.  First is the stay-at-home-daycare-mom,this look comes standard with the basics…bare faced (on a really good day leftover makeup from a day or two before is still smudged around my eyes…because, hygiene!), messy ponytail wearing a t-shirt and a pair of Mr. Badass’s gym shorts. On a day I have any kind of expected company I do make sure to brush my hair before putting it back into the messy ponytail. Once in a great while, I will even put on a bra! These days are about 9/10 for me.

My second “look” is the I-really-like-to-play-with-my-hair-and-makeup-and-somehow-found-the-time-to-do-so look. You’ve gotta understand me. I am an “all or nothing” kinda gal. So if you see me in makeup, it’s an all out, high, bright color, smokey eye, winged liner, contoured cheeks and often fake lashes kind of thing. I like it, especially eye shadows. I buy them on the cheap and have lots and lots. Someday I will post pics. I also have been working on mastering this messy, chic beach wave look with my hair and I finally figured that shit out yesterday too. I was feeling pretty spiffy.

So, since I had awesome new hair, I had to choose look number two for my bowling night out with the ladies. I went with a dark smokey eye but natural colors and my natural lashes. Honestly, I typically get all dolled up for bowling when I go once a month or so, but with brighter colors or falsies or something with more pop. I am used to either comments of “that’s too much” or more commonly, “wow, that’s so cool. How do you do that?” And I love these compliments. I like to sound knowledgeable about something, even if it’s just colored powder on my eyelids. It makes me feel like an artist or like at least like I am good at “makeupping”. Even better to get complimented by a bunch of women, who i admittedly struggle to connect with and trust as it is. Point is, I looked damn good, I knew it, and I pretty much expected someone else to tell me I did. (Blah blah blah, vanity. I never get out of the house…give me a break!).

And while I did get some mention of how nice I looked from a friend or acquaintance or two…I was caught completely off guard by a different kind of compliment altogether. Amidst bowling, and laughing and slinging Scentsy, I got into a conversation with someone who I have never really talked to before. Well, we have exchanged words; cordial “hi, how are you”s and random surface small talk. She has often complimented my makeup or hair or our cute little boy. And our chat seemed to start that way, like any other time. Suddenly, I received the most sincere, touching, and humbling compliment I have ever been given in my life.

She said to me, “I was just telling my husband that I would really like to be more like you are. You always come in here smiling and happy, just no matter what is going on in your life. I want to be more like that.”

There was more to it than that—it got more personal, and I can’t say that’s verbatim, but I was just so caught off guard. “Me?? Really??” And she continued on and we chatted about several other things. But that little snippet has been sticking with me. Who am I that I would get such a compliment? Most days I feel like I have a bad attitude and I am so exhausted from worrying about everybody else’s needs to think straight. I feel overwhelmed and confused and touched that anybody would see me, and see something admirable.

Me. The girl who is “kind of” a million things, but not really anything. I feel like I am kind of a good wife, kind of a good mom, kind of a good friend, daughter, neighbor. And the things I feel like I am great at, I either lack direction for their purpose (school, for example) or they are really just silly hobbies (makeup, hair, knitting). Me??? Most of the time I feel like I barely have it (whatever it is) together…that sometimes I am barely making it but still somehow moving forward. Yes, me. Messy, disorganized, confused me. Apparently, somehow, something in me sometime has impacted this girl. Something I have said, or done, or implied. Maybe it’s things that I haven’t said or done. I really don’t know.

The only thing that I do know is that anything that is good in me isn’t me at all. It is Jesus living in and through me. How amazing is it to know that even though, by my very nature, I have selfish, vain, and overall sucky tendencies, there is a God who lives in me and shines through me!!! And the compliment that initially confused me and had me up last night wondering what in the world she could have seen, makes total sense to me, now.

This instance is the #4 on my “one thousand gifts” list.

5. The time and ability to take some time to myself once in a while, even stolen moments while kiddos are napping, to “play” in my makeup. 🙂

6. The amazing, wonderful, fantastic, refreshing feeling that first drink of Pepsi from the can gives me.

Back into the swing, and a thousand gifts

A couple of weeks ago, a dear friend of mine invited me to a “women’s small group” bible study. Anyone who knows me knows I love Jesus but I’m a skeptic anytime a group of women gets together—not because there’s anything wrong with them, but because I have my own personal trust issues. Not to mention, sometimes I’m a cynical, sarcastic asshole (who believes in Jesus) and I really don’t like to have to put on a special face just to be accepted. That, and the self-imposed guilt of knowing from jump that I won’t be able to make it every week; No way am I giving up time with Little Mister during the half of the life he lives with my husband and me unless I have to. Nonetheless, I attended this week.

The group is doing a book which has a video companion. Honestly, I feel like the author and I have very little in common, save the fact that we’ve got the same reproductive organs (even more limited though because hers work at least 6x better than my own). Its hard not to listen to someone speak so poetically and beautifully and feel like my own words will be nonsensical, dumbed down, and ugly. Her whole point to the readers and listeners is advising us to slow down and take time to find joy in the gifts and blessings that we’re given on a daily basis. She very strongly recommends having a “gifts journal” in which to write at least 1,000 things (over time) that you’re thankful for, to then become in the habit of slowing down and thanking God for the beauty, simplicity, or simple existence of things.

Despite the fact that our author is drop-dead gorgeous, blessed with six kids, a great husband, and a beautiful farm, and the jealous person inside of me wanted to just tell her to shut up already because near every one of her blessings had to do with her children, I know, generally, she’s right. The bitter (but trying to get better) infertile version of myself has a hard time seeing past the twelve little hands that used to cling to her, when I long for even two that have come from my own flesh, that don’t technically belong to someone else. But I wanted to try, and why not at least try on here.

You see, I just took a class for college that focused on Positive Psychology, and they mentioned that there is scientific proof that taking the time to acknowledge (preferably in writing) three things each day that are positive, you will see an improvement in your outlook and quality of life. I left the study skeptical yet willing to give it a go.

Before sitting down and starting my “One Thousand Things” journal last night, I perused Facebook for a few moments. And in only a few moments, my heart shattered. A dear friend of mine from college, whom I haven’t really seen much of in the last few years (don’t you hate how life makes it so easy for that to happen), posted about how last week, she and her husband said goodbye to their daughter before she was even born. I don’t know all the details, I just know that she wasn’t yet to 28 weeks gestation and she was lifeless in the womb. Not only did this friend post about her lost daughter, she shared photos of herself and her husband holding that sweet little girls tiny body. And a portrait of tiny, not-ready to be born fingers wrapped around her finger. The kicker, whilst admitting the greatest of sadness, my friend expressed JOY knowing that their little girl was safe in the arms of God. And posted scripture. Talk about a little sobfest.

So I sat there, and instead of being thankful for anything, I asked God WHY? How unfair. How painful. I vented to a friend and just wanted to throw rocks and scream. I did neither. But at that very moment, my list of gifts just lay blank. I needed a minute to process. This loss of a friend of mine that hit so close to home for me…it had left me with nothing to say and the need to be quiet, in the dark next to my sleeping husband.

This morning, after a night’s rest and a silent prayer, I think I’m ready. I recognize a couple of my gifts.

1. Having a warm, snoring husband to sleep beside me during my moments of grief last night. You see, while he is affected by our fertility struggles, he doesn’t get into his feelings about them like I do. He wouldn’t have recognized that a friend’s loss would not only sadden me for them, but that it would be a painful reminder of the losses I’ve endured, grieving children that were lost and others that may never get the chance to be. But having him there, his steady breathing and gentle hand on my side, is a gift that I don’t want to take for granted.

2. Having a friend who laughs with me, is straight with me, and lets me be angry. Brooke just lets me be me, yet she still pursues the best in me. She has a way of allowing the less appealing parts of me to work through whatever they need to work through, but she sticks with me until the laughter comes, until the silence comes, whatever is needed. She’s there, and to me, that’s the very kind of friend God knows I need.

3. Rejoicing with my friends and for my friends, even from afar, knowing that their baby girl is up there with Jesus, and with my baby girl. With others I’ve lost. And they are whole, they are free, and they are beautiful. They know nothing about the pain of this world; they only know true life in fellowship with Jesus. Wow.

Tidbits of wisdom…

Needed a vent about a lot of things in general. Allowing myself one. Don’t take it personal. Or do; not my problem. Probably should not make assumptions about who this is or isn’t about either. Consider it tidbits of wisdom from Yours Truly.

1. Talking trash about a person does not make that person look bad; it makes YOU look trashy. There is literally garbage flying from your lips or fingertips…do not be shocked; this is ugly.

2. You don’t have to like any specific person, and you’re more than welcome to tell the world that you feel that way. But, spreading lies and hate, being a bully, or just general nastiness just makes you look like an overgrown toddler who cannot control your emotions and who has no tact.

3. Threatening a person or talking about wanting to be violent towards them, their property, etc, but not mentioning their name, is still a passive aggressive bullshit threat. Publicly stating that you would like to cause another person physical, emotional, or psychological harm does nothing but make you look like an unhealthy and unstable psycho. And crazy ain’t cute.

4. If you put half as much effort into doing positive things, having positive thoughts, and making positive changes in your life as you do being a generally hateful, miserable and spiteful person, good things will probably happen. Maybe you’ll get a job or a Diploma or something fantastic like that.

5. If you don’t like a person or how they look or the choices they make, there isn’t necessarily something wrong with them. There is, however, something wrong with your ability to cope and accept things that are different from yourself and your tastes. If a person who wears makeup or hair extensions, or colors their hair has an appearance that you find bothersome, don’t look at them. Don’t creep on their Facebook page. Don’t read their blog or stare them down in public. You choose what you expose your eyes to for the most part. If you have to go out of your way to find a person or their picture, just to be offended by their image or choices, pretty sure that makes you a stalker. At that point, complaining about that person is like a thief suing someone because the tv they stole didn’t work…you didn’t have to put yourself in that situation. Duh.

6. And finally, being a pleasant person is not that hard. Everybody has bad days. Apologize and move on. Being moody and overly defensive doesn’t make you look like a big tough badass…it highlights your insecurities, jealousy, and poor attitude towards life in general.

Don’t we all feel better now? I do!

“You’re not his real mom”

Last week was our week with Little Mister.  It was a doozy.

He had quite a diaper rash (teething…don’t you love it?).  So we took him out of the disposables and put him strictly in cloth except for overnight. Anybody who is familiar with cloth diapers knows that it is, indeed, very different than disposables.  The pee, not so bad (if you can get past the smell of a wetbag full of pee diapers)…the poop, on the other hand…you have to deal with those right away to avoid staining and other problems.  And with teething, Little Mister has been pooping several times a day…so I literally spent 7 days scraping poop into the toilet, spraying, squeezing, and laundering these things.  A lot of work, a lot of shit.  But I’m glad to say that we ended our week with the baby and his diaper rash was clear.

Also, Little Mister had bronchitis.  This means that last week, he was HACKING (poor baby), had a moderately high fever (upwards of 103 at times), uncomfortable, fussy, clingy, and to top it all off, he had diarrhea (which adds to the wonderfulness of the cloth diaper issue).  Sleep was frustrating for him, as the drainage was really bothering him, so he and I spent a lot of time upright in bed or sitting in the living room chair so he could be upright, be comforted by knowing he wasn’t alone, and sleep.  I am a side sleeper, so this means I got about ZERO sleep for almost the entire week.  It was pretty rough.  But I did it GLADLY because I love him, because he deserves the best care possible always, and because, well, that’s just what I do.

I keep in constant contact with his mom regarding how the baby is doing.  I or Mr. Badass made a point to send her a message most days, just updating him on his progress, his doctor appointment, etc.  She always is cordial and seems to appreciate the dialogue about her son.  I do not mind doing this at all.  We are, in essence, a team raising a child.

I say all of these things to say that for the sake of baby having a consistent caregiver while he was sick, and because I just wouldn’t feel right putting him off on anybody else in the condition he was, I had to bail on some of my afternoon commitments.  I think (correct me if I am wrong) that this is what most sensible parents would do, to sacrifice most anything to be there for a sick child.  Apparently, though, some people (at least one) doesn’t agree with me.

Well, this someone, who in their defense, I did have to bail on helping them with something to care for the baby, was very upset with me.  She accused me of lying about taking the baby to the doctor because someone we both know saw us at the store that day and “the baby didn’t look that sick.”   ***After someone commented I wanted to clarify that the person who said this is NOT Little Mister’s real momma!!  It was somebody else.  Sorry for any confusion***

I’m sure I got quite red in the face and ears, but I very politely told this person that, absolutely not I wouldn’t lie about such a thing and that the baby will always come first.  She very plainly said to me, “Well, you’re not even his real mother.”

………..

Wait, really?  You mean I didn’t carry him in my belly for 9 months and give birth to this kid?  You think I didn’t know that!?  Of course I’m not his “real” mother, but I am and always will be a mother to this child.  I know I’m not his real mom, and I haven’t claimed to be.  I don’t try to push his own mom out of the picture, as a matter of fact, I do many things to try to increase communication so that all the adults in a “parenting” capacity in baby’s life can be on the same page.  I don’t place myself in a higher position than her.  No way.  Never.

You can ask Mr. Badass, when I returned home from this conversation, I was pretty livid.  I felt betrayed and angered and deeply saddened by what was said to me by a person who I’ve been pretty generous to with my time and help.  I was hurt, I took it personally.  But the more I think about it, I know that this will happen again, with others.  I know that nobody is perfect.

I know that the way humans are, even though its disgusting, is that we always make little mental notes about other people’s “vulnerabilities” and maybe without even meaning to, store them in a hate bank.  When we get hurt, offended, angered, whatever, we just spout off what’s in the hate bank instead of rationally thinking about what we say and how it will affect others in the long run.  So I guess part of me has to accept that the whole “step mom” issue isn’t one that’s going to disappear.  I will not be surprised if it is the go-to whenever someone gets angry at me or if I act stupidly and hurt or offend someone, this will surely come up again.

I also know that I have to be prepared to deal with it.  For my sake, my family’s sake, and especially for Little Mister’s sake.  I don’t mean how to defend myself, I’ve got nothing to prove to anybody who feels or thinks this way.  I mean I’ve just got to learn to let it roll off of my back.  And we’ve got to teach Little Mister the same thing.  After all, undoubtedly if this comes up and he hears it, he’s going to wonder what it means and how to process.

I’ve been here since he was born.  Although I wasn’t allowed to see him until his third day of life, I was still there, at the hospital, waiting.  Every time his father has had parenting time with Little Mister, I’ve been there.  Every 45 minutes each way trip to pick him up or drop him off, I’ve been there.  We are a family.  I’ve woken up with him in the night, I’ve stayed up with him all night.  I’ve changed my sleeping patterns, sacrificed bed space (but really, who doesn’t love having about 5 inches of bed so that the baby can lay horizontally between parents).  I don’t work because we don’t want to put him in daycare if we don’t have to.  We don’t buy fancy things, have cable or satellite TV, but the baby always has formula, clean clothes, and something to poop in, even if I’ve had to scrape the poop out myself.  I work with him on his development and language skills.  I have had more urine on me in the last 10 months than I ever thought I would in my life…I’ve had to pull poo out of my own hair as a result of an incident involving a very wiggly baby with a messy diaper and a wrestling match to get a new diaper put on.  I’ve had partially digested formula spit up into my mouth.  I have sacrificed showers some days.  I have taken time away from things I love to do, because I love to spend time with him, instead.  I blow off my friends to put my phone away and give him my full attention.  When I am sick and he’s here, I don’t get to take a day off and rest, Little Mister comes first.  When my own throat burns because I’m exhausted and dehydrated from illness, I still sing him his lullabies, rock him to sleep, and hold him, probably longer than I have to, before getting up to get something to soothe my own aches and needs.

None of these things makes me superwoman.  None of them makes me better than anybody else, especially his “real” mom.  I know that she does all of those things, too.  Don’t all good moms?  Looking at that list of behaviors, does that not describe a mom, in one capacity or another?

I guess I wonder, after all of those experiences, what Little Mister would think hearing someone say, “She’s not your real mom.”  To him, he won’t know life without me.  He won’t know a life where his real mom and his real dad were together.  This is just the way things are in this situation.  It’s nobody’s fault, it just is.  The reality of that is, he will always have two families.  When you grow up in it, and people don’t make a big deal about labels, competition, favoritism, etc., that becomes normal for you.  Normal for Little Mister is that he does have a Mom and a Stepmom.  Normal for him is that we will both have always been there since his birth.  He’s not the only one.

So, I guess, even though those words sting a little, I’ve got to be prepared for them.  And I’ve got a responsibility to handle those situations in a way that shows Little Mister that words, labels, none of it matters.  That we accept our situation, and he loses no love because of it.  It isn’t his fault—he didn’t decide to come into this situation.  And as one of the adults bringing him up in it, I’ve got my work cut out for me to let it roll off my back, so someday, it rolls off of his.

And I guess I might never get the title of “real” mom, but I feel sorry for anybody who hurts him or gives me a reason to show just how maternal I can get.  “Just sayin.”

Back & Forth

*sigh* As much as I want to be better at it, I royally SUCK at being a girly girl. At least when it comes to things that involve me being center of attention. I can throw a hell of a party for someone else, do gorgeous hair and makeup on others, help somebody else plan a bang-up wedding on a budget, and make a little girl feel like a princess for a day…but when it comes to me, I bomb.

So I’m supposed to be planning this wedding. I can “pin” like crazy; different ideas and inspirations are great. But actually putting things together is daunting. I’m just starting to go back and forth. Part of me wants to elope; another part wants the ceremony to share with family and friends. Part of me wants the big wedding party, another wants just me and my future mister to have a friend or two on either side of us and an audience of whoever. I’ve asked 8 bridesmaids…and i love them all. But I wonder if it wouldn’t be simpler for them to not have to worry about the dress and being there all day for pics (most have little ones and I hate to be an inconvenience). I feel like there are some hurt feelings about not being asked to be an “of honor” by some. I just don’t know. I’m in the air about colors, flowers, bridesmaid dresses, MY dress, guest list…

One thing I DO know is that pictures mean the world to me. I have a friend who offered to do my pictures for a wedding gift. And I will probably take her up on that offer. However, I want my friends and family to just be able to enjoy the party, be stress free, and not have obligations. I don’t want to order a friend around and tell them what I want (because, since I am a nut about pictures and I do weddings myself, I am INCREDIBLY demanding and I know this). So I’m debating whether to just save the money (tax return!) and hire a photographer. I’m just not sure.

But I AM sure that I love Mr. Badass more than anything. I am positive that he feels the same about me, and that we’re absolutely right for each other. I know, without a doubt, that we will have a blast together for the rest of at least one of our lives and I cannot wait to be his “Mrs. Badass”.

Christmas!

First of all, happy holidays from the Badass family.  Here’s our holiday photo (actually taken at thanksgiving, but what the heck):

 

 

And here’s a favorite of Little Mister’s Christmas photos that I took:

 

 

And here are a few of my favorites from Christmas:

This is his “Are you effing kidding me??” face.  lol  He seemed pretty excited about the little Superman.  Don’t mind me looking lovely in the background…Mama Badass was SOOOO tired!

Daddy pushed the little red button on his ride-on Tow-Mator truck…and this was his reaction…Oh.My.Gawd!  Love this face!

This is special to me because this is the first time my brother has actually held Little Mister.  He has been around, even played with him on the floor, but he tends to be afraid of babies.  I literally just put the baby in his lap and started taking pics and there were some precious ones!  This is my favorite though! 🙂

My brother snapped this of my nephew on my camera.  I about died laughing when I uploaded the pics to my computer.  What a face!

My mom and the kids.  Everything about the kids in this pic cracks me up.  And no, my oldest nephew does not always make this face (he was not coached, either…HA).  I haven’t really introduced you all to my mother, but that post is coming.

ahhh…two of my favorite people in the world.  My mommy and daddy.  🙂  Love them.   Rarely are they in photos together (I tend to focus on children and individuals….so I forget to photograph couples…also forgot to get my bro and his wife this year—dangit!), and this is probably my favorite photo in recent years.  Favorites.

This is a cousin’s kiddo, he’s 13.  What a great smile—I won’t say what caused it, but the kiddo was definitely embarrassed in this pic.  Cutie!

here is Mr. Badass chatting it up with Grandma Badass—She’s 94 and still going strong.  I ADORE THIS WOMAN!

I love the people in this picture, of course, but I also love the depth.  You can see a memory being made.

This is Mr. Badass’ Aunt…and she is a firecracker of a woman!  I love this shot of her!

And, even though she wasn’t here for the holiday, I couldn’t  NOT include a picture of darling Princess Z.  🙂  Took this a couple weeks ago.  She’s so pretty!

     Hope you all had a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Kwanzaa, and any other Holiday that you may have observed!  Be Blessed!

Plans

So, after yesterday’s post of a vent, I thought about a more light hearted subject for today:

Wedding Plans.

Well, we got engaged and we know about when we want to get married (end of summer/early fall 2013<—-edit NOT 2012 DUH).  Beyond that, I have a lot of ideas but nothing set in stone.  My first decision is do we have a ceremony/reception/party, or do we just go to the courthouse and be done with it?  Some people might say the second idea is better, considering it is my second wedding.  I could see their point, honestly.  But I think there is also something real to be celebrated with a marriage.  I feel like there is joy to have and to be shared and so why not at least have some kind of a shin-dig, right?  So I’ve decided that I’m not the “two-witnesses-and-a-judge” kind of gal.  So what kind of gal am I?

I’ve had to go through a lot of this-or-that in my head.  If its decided that we’ll have a party of sorts, do we do traditional with a big dress and a preacher and all the pomp & circumstance of a “regular” or traditional wedding?  Bridesmaids and all that?  In a big church and a fancy reception hall?  I don’t think that’s really my style.  I think I’d like something more intimate, outside, significant family and friends there.  As for a wedding party, I’d like our bridesmaids and groomsmen to be people who are a part of our lives.  At least people who keep in good contact with us and who we talk to on a regular basis other than birthdays and holidays.  That makes for some hard decisions because there are some people I feel like expect to be a part of things but I’m not really that close to them anymore.  My first wedding had a lot of bridesmaids & groomsmen, and only a couple do I really even consider myself close to (or even friends with) anymore.

Along those same lines I’ve wondered about attire and how “formal” our party would be.  I kind of wonder if it wouldn’t just be more “Mr. Badass & Me” style to have the people we want up there, dressed how they want to be dressed.  I am not psycho about matching, or about absolute perfection.  Not to mention, Mr. Badass isn’t ‘exactly the tuxedo wearing type, although I did go to 2 proms with him and he looked damn good in a Zoot Suit back in the day!  He’s more of a dark jeans with KSWISS sneakers and a black button up with maybe a vest or suit jacket on top.  His most definite preference is that nothing takes away from his beard.  HA!  (its the truth—he’s pretty proud of it!)  I’d like to be in an ivory dress.  Something flattering and romantic.  But I’m also poor lol.  So I might just be in sweats.

Ahhhh.  I know its far away.  But I just like to know things are done, or at least thought through.  I have definite goals and am trying to keep things very low cost.  The only thing that TRULY matters to me is that there are some great pictures to document the day.  I am very blessed by a good friend who has volunteered to take all the photos that day.  And the coolest part is, I get them at the end of the day to edit and change as I please.  YESSS!  I’ll also have my little brother running around doing some photo-journalistic shots.  And anybody else who will share pictures will have their arms twisted.  🙂  I just am very excited to be Mrs. Badass!!

“A bride at her second marriage does not wear a veil. She wants to see what she is getting.” –Helen Rowland
(LOL)

There is nothing wrong with me.

I think everybody has a breaking point to where they just need to stop putting themselves out there, and put their comfort/needs/wants/whatever before whatever is pushing them to that limit. I’m so there.  And I need to vent.

I’ll be honest, being a stepmom is hard.  Not hard like parenting is hard.  Parenting is easy.  Babies/toddlers/children in general are easy for me.  It’s hard to deal with another person’s drama, insecurities, and childishness because you are with the father of her child or helping him in parenting their child.   I get that it’s probably not the easiest thing in the world to be on the other end of, but for Pete’s sake, be cordial.  Be polite.  Be respectful.  Maybe even appreciate the fact that your child’s father has chosen to be with ONE woman long term, and isn’t bringing woman after woman into the kid’s life.  Be thankful that at least he is with someone who is good with children and who makes the child’s care a priority during his parenting time.  Many girlfriends/fiances/even wives aren’t so quick to open their heart and life to a “step” child.  Trust me, I’ve seen how hard it can be for some women to accept another’s child—its not so easy for everybody.  In all honesty, it would be easier for me if Mr. Badass wasn’t all about parenting his child.  It would make life simpler for me and us as a couple if it wasn’t something we were willing to fight for.  If we just took every other weekend and holiday because that’s what’s simplest.  If we weren’t having to pinch pennies to afford a lawyer.  But he and I both love Little Mister very much and we don’t want to take the easy way out.  He brings nothing but joy to our lives.  It’s the other stuff that is annoying.  I guess I’m just tired of being called names, untrue statements being made about my life, choices, etc., and plain old drama.

The truth is, I’ve been NICE.  Not just regular nice, either.  The kind of nice that makes my friends go, “What?”  I’m talking above-and-beyond kind of nice.  Irrationally nice, maybe.  After some really hateful and nasty things have been said or done even.  But the words that were said this week, they crossed the line.  After me being so giving as to share photos, information, etc when I have no legal obligation to do so.  After I made arrangements for ME to drive my (future) “step”son the fifty minutes each way to see his mom on Halloween, so a holiday would not be missed and so he could be shared with his other family.  (**note, i put “step” in quotes because I don’t like that term.  To me, it shows that there is a separation on my end and there isn’t.  Kids are kids to me.)  After seeing the pictures that I have taken that were on my or Mr. Badass’ facebook page and used and posted without asking or acknowledging me, and I just didn’t say anything.  The stuff said about me was taken too far.  If you don’t know a person, or what they have been through, do not make assumptions based on opinions, naysayers, and hard feelings.  And do not say them on a kind of platform that they will get back to that person who has been bending over backwards to accommodate you.

I was taught that I never have to explain myself.  But sometimes I feel like I should get a turn to talk, too.

Something that was brought up is that I am a married woman.  Yes, legally I am still married to my first husband.  That marriage was over long before we admitted it, which we agreed on a divorce in March.  For months before that, we were simply going through the motions, as neither of us really thought we would agree with divorce as an option for us but both of us pretty miserable.  Paperwork was completed in April.  We’ve parted ways as friends and we get along fine.  We were legally able to file in July, however the lawyer (who was doing this as a favor to us anyway) didn’t get the paperwork in and court wasn’t until September.  Then on the day of court the Judge cancelled all her court for the day (probably a family/personal emergency or situation; it happens), so we got pushed back to mid-October.  By the end of next week, this should all be done and dealt with.  So yes, I am still technically “married”.  And yes, Mr. Badass proposed to me a couple weeks ago and I said, “Yes.”  Judge the situation if you want, but anybody who has been through a divorce knows that they can be really speedy or drag along, it just depends.  My ex was aware of my new relationship; he has one of his own.  He was also aware that engagement was on the horizon and gave me his best wishes.  Not that anybody’s opinion matters, but I think that says a lot about our ability to maintain a decent relationship after a marriage fell apart long ago.  I don’t think that this is something to be held against Mr. Badass or I.  So what, my first marriage didn’t work out.  I’m not the first person in the world to get divorced and move on.  The time frame is irrelevant; if I were “single” when we got together, nobody would say anything about us being engaged now.  And I was alone in that marriage (at least romantically) for a long time before now.

I was referred to as “mentally unstable” also.  By someone who has never had a conversation with me other than a few texts centered around Little Mister.  Someone who doesn’t know a thing about me other than what Mr. Badass’ estranged brother and his wife have told her, and they aren’t exactly the kind of people who are objective or even honest.  (These are the same people who decided to send texts to family and friends of mine to tell them about me having an abortion ten years ago in an effort to ruin my relationships…which actually only made them stronger and helped me conquer my fear of the past.)   Someone who doesn’t know that I’ve spent hours and hours going through family therapy with my foster children.  That I know a lot about psychology, emotional health, and spiritual well-being.  You know what, I am an emotionally healthy person.  I have good days and bad days, just like everybody else.  I, obviously, express my feelings.  I use writing to let out emotions, feelings, happy and sad times.  There are days when I love myself and other days when I struggle with certain aspects of my life.  Who doesn’t have times like that?  I am forgiving, strong, and on a pretty even keel.  Like it or not, have me evaluated if you want.  I don’t care.  There is nothing wrong with me.

It is not my responsibility to make a person like me.  It’s actually not anybody else’s responsibility to like me.  But I do respect others and expect to be respected in return.  I could have spent this entire post bashing the person who says these things about me.  Saying personal hateful judgement opinions.  Talking about the mother of a child who I love and adore like she’s something that I want her to be so it justifies me not liking her and saying those negative things.  But I won’t.  Because I don’t know her.  I’m actually thankful for her, because without her, there would be no Little Mister.  I’m thankful that she made a choice that a scared 17 year old version of me was too terrified to make.  I respect that.  I guess it’s just too much to expect that same respect in return.

So I’ve hit my limit.  I’m nice.  I’ll always be nice.  But I’m done sticking my neck out.  I’m done returning hate with being overly kind.  And as for Halloween, I was asked to babysit.  We have bills and lawyer fees to pay, so I have to make the choice that’s best for our family and cancel driving almost 100 miles round-trip.  I can’t let it bother me.  I can’t feel bad for someone who would return my kind gesture with hate, non-appreciation, and cruel words.  I’m done letting the game-play and harsh, meaningless words get to me.

I just needed to vent.  BLAH!

On that note, have a good weekend.   All of you—even if you don’t like me.  (Like I’ve said before, I know you read this, too.)

“Tell the truth, or someone will tell it for you.”  Stephanie Klein