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The Holiday Spirit or lack Thereof ~ How the Grinch Almost Stole Mommy Revisited
I feel like the Grinch~ This is a post I wrote last year at about this same time and I realized that the same thing is happening again. I’m just recognizing it earlier in the holiday season. I don’t want to be this person who is wound so tight at the holidays that she pops out of her face like a jack in the box at the drop of a hat. This post is a good reminder to stop, breathe and try something different. I think we’ve all had our holiday Grinch moments. Let’s not the Grinch steal our children’s holiday memories or their holiday Mommy.
The holidays for me are usually all warmth and fuzziness, mostly. Don’t get me wrong they are chocked full of craziness but right underneath the surface of all the chaos, complete happiness is bubbling its way to the surface and about to spill over. But for some reason, this year things feel… off. It all looks great on paper, we are doing all the things that should be done to make wonderful memories for our girls but for some reason, I don’t feel like my heart is in it. I don’t feel the bubbly goodness rising to the top as it should be this far into December.
Grinch, We Don’t Need no Stinkin Grinch

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I am watching the finances closely since this year has been full of new jobs, relocations and maintaining separate households, which is nothing to speak of the fact that our whole life has been suspended and not quite right with the Big Guy not living here. Maybe my lack of enthusiasm has something to do with being overwhelmed by the to do lists and not enough time to accomplish the tasks at hand. I have been buried under snow for most of December and there’s been no time for shopping, baking, enjoying. Its been a series of appointments and dates. Truly, I feel like my girls are being jipped out of their Christmas. I’ve been so caught up in all the obligations that I’ve been snapping at my girls and firing snark from my mouth like an AK-47.I know on more than one occasion, lately, I’ve given them the “are you retarded?” look and may have even said something to that effect, but not quite as awful. But the sentiment was there and that is as guilty as saying the words themselves. Thoughts become words and words become actions.Well, even thinking that makes me a really horrible Grinch of a mother, in my book. I don’t want to be THAT person.I don’t want my girls to think it even fathomable that I could mean such awful words.The thought of them believing that I think they are anything less than amazing or that my love is conditional upon whether or not they are pleasing to me, makes me sick to my stomach.I want to be happy, excited and gay. I need to get my warm fuzziness boiling back over. I want to spread it all over my children like warm molasses.
Please Grinch Mommy,don’t take away their smiles
Christmas is not about things to do, places to be or presents to open; Christmas is about love, peace and people.I want my girls to look back on their childhood Christmases and remember the cuddles in front of the fire, spontaneous Christmas cookie baking, making fudge with Daddy, snowball fights, and watching Christmas Movies; staying up late to put cookies out for Santa and going to mass with the whole family.It’s firsts snows and snow angels.It’s togetherness.It’s a series of moments that form a lifetime. I want it to be a feeling in their heart.I want it to be the spirit of something larger than us; of hope, love and joy. I’m clearing out the clutter of my life and my mind and going forth, my only true obligation is going to be to see to it that my girls are happy.Everything else is secondary.
Christmas Memories Better when Mommies Not a Grinch
Fah who for-aze! Fah who for-aze!
Dah who dor-aze! Dah who dor-aze!
Welcome Christmas, Welcome Christmas,
Come this way! Come this way!
Bottom Line is this, we determine how/what our memories will be. We are the parents and it’s up to us make the most of our children’s memories. They won’t remember every single detail but they will remember the feelings associated with being loved unconditionally and all that it entails.
I am laying out all the wisdom for the teens in my post High School Confidential at Aiming Low today. Would love it if you would stop over there and share what vital piece of wisdom that you would impart on the teens of the world. Looking forward to hearing your advice.
Also, how do you keep from becoming overwhelmed, exhausted and a Grinch at the holidays?
2011/12/07
**WINNER ANNOUNCED**Fashion Haul Friday~ $100 Tea Collection Gift Certificate #Giveaway
Fashion Haul Friday ~ Tea Collection This week’s fashion find is an amazing Chica cable sweater by Tea Collection for women. I know that we all know and love tea collection for their kids clothes. We mom’s live for tea collection to have a sale for our back to school style and baby clothes. Tea collection is who we look to dress our children. Most of our children are outfitted in their awesome designer children’s clothes, but did you realize they bring the awesome in women’s clothes as well? I never even considered shopping there for myself, until now! I’m a Tea Collection convert.
Tea Collection for the Stylish Mom
I received this AWESOME Chica Cable sweater in phantom from Tea’s Modern Mexico collection, which is so appropriate because I just happen to be a little Modern Mexico myself. I ordered a large and it is very roomy. This worked out nicely for me because I am a little over gifted in the chest area and have issue finding clothing that fit appropriately in that area. If you are tiny, I suggest you get a size smaller than you normally wear since it fits so generously. It is made of the softest merino wool that I have ever felt but at the same time has some weight to it. I paired it over a long sleeve jersey shirt and it worked out as a light weight coat. I also added to the outfit a pair of cute jeans and some black UGGs. I took Mommy Chic to a whole new level. If you wanted to be more casual on the go Mom you could swap out jeans for leggings, if you’ve got the ass for it.You’ve been spinning, show off what you’ve done. Or if you want to dress it up a bit more, add some black dress boots or booties and pair the Chica Cable Sweater over something more feminine and flouncy! I may have to swap out my permanent seat in sweat pants purgatory for this Chica Cable Sweater, it is so comfy and soft. It’s like wearing one of those cuddly, warm baby blankets but with style and fashion minus the spit up and judgement.
Tea Collection; Mom Chic has never been so Fashionable
Features:
Hola chica, have you met your new cardi? Big geo cables, dolman sleeves, an oversize draped collar. A little bit Mexican and a lot modern. Surprise yourself with how chic it looks layered over something a bit more dressy. Imported.
- 100% Merino Wool
- Dry Clean
To recap, I LOVE this sweater and it has made me fall deeply in love with Tea Collection for women. Not only have they made me fall in love with them, they will make you fall in love with them too. Tea Collection is offering a $100 gift certificate to one of my lucky subscribers to use on anything you want. You can buy something for yourself ( which I highly recommend) or you can buy something for your little ones. All you have to do is fill out the rafflecopter survey below and it will guide you through all the various ways to enter.*MANDATORY: Be sure to leave a comment at the bottom of the post for EACH ( every single) entry in the comments section. Good Luck!Happy Holidays to you all.

a Rafflecopter giveaway
*Disclaimer: Tea Collection is providing the gorgeous prize for the giveaway and provided me with the product to review. The opinion expressed in this post is my own honest review of the product.
The Tea Collection: Making Women as well dressed as their children
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2011/12/24
Resolving to Incite the Revolution of 2012
I originally posted Resolving to Incite a Revolution last January. It was a great reminder of things I wanted to do in the upcoming year. I have been working diligently on this revolution for the past 12 months but I thought I could use the reminder to continue on with enthusiasm. Life is too short to be unhappy. Sometimes we just need to be reminded of that fact. This is your wake up call; our reminder that we’ve got to incite a revolution in this world an fight for what we want out of life.
Resolving to incite a revolution
~I am way past the point of making resolutions.After all, what the hell is a resolution anyways, nothing more than an empty promise, a flimsy threat at the most.Nope this year, I am declaring war. I’m inciting a revolution.I am resigning myself to a little shock and awe!
*No MORE Cheating! You heard me. I don’t mean that I’m cheating on the Big Guy, never! I mean cheating on diets, cheating myself out of life, cheating myself short on opportunities, cheating my girls out of my complete attention and devotion.
*Embracing Exhaustion! Oh yeah, I am about to make it my mission to exhaust every single iota of potential that these bones have in them. No more sitting on the sidelines letting life happen to me or waiting for things to be done for me, this broad is grabbing life by the balls and making him my bitch. I am going to work this potential so hard, its not going to know which way is up. As the old cheer goes, “Be aggressive..B*EE* EE Agressive!” I’m about to be the change I want to see in my world!
Resolving to incite a revolution
*Organization, Organization, Location! I am a planner, a scheduler, a write it down on paper and DOER! Life seems to have gotten out of control.I don’t mean a little bit off kilter, I mean it has spun right the hell off its axis.Well, NO MORE! Hey, life! Guess what? I AM IN CHARGE..NOT YOU! So, I’m putting pen to paper ( yes, I’m old school like that sometimes) and I’m making a schedule. I’m waking up earlier, getting more sleep, not rushing through life because I’ve planned accordingly, and ( because I am still a bit reckless) I’m even allowing copious amounts of free time for spontaneity.
*Love Hard, Love often! I am making sure that the Big Guy and the girls know how much I love them and how important they are to me. I’m not referring to telling them, speaking the words. I do this already, several times a day. In fact, I’ve told the girls ( constantly) since birth “Guess what? I have a secret.Want to know what it is?” They used to get all excited, their eyes like saucers and ask”Yes, Mommy. What is it?” My answer, I’d bend down and whisper in their tiny ear ,” I Love you more than anything.” Now, they just give me a sheepish smile and say, “What is it Mommy? Tell me!” But more than saying the words, I want to show them with my thoughts and actions.I want to be present in every moment with these family and friends that I have been blessed to be surrounded by in my life. I want them to know in their heart that when I say “I love you” it means..forever, for always, for good, for bad, for ups, for downs, for skinny, for fat, for Always. When they speak, I want them to know I am listening and that what they say matters to me. No more decorum.I am loving on my littles, the Big Guy, my family and friends with an embarrassing amount of exuberance. I want them to feel it to their core…I love them.
Resolving to incite a revolution
*Prioritize, Perspective, and Present The only way to get it all done, in conjunction with my handy schedule, I have to prioritize what’s really important to me and my family. This depends on my perspective. I am choosing to utilize my own perspective ..finally. I am not considering all the outside factors, aside from my girls. I’m also willfully choosing to see life as ALWAYS half full and at my dispense because, in reality, it is. My only limitations have been those I’ve set upon myself. No more! Last but not least, I’m living in the moment. I’m embracing every stinking moment as it happens. I’m not planning for next year, next week, tomorrow…I’m living in the now..RIGHT NOW,with my girls and the Big Guy. I want to enjoy the small things of my life as they happen, not in 20 years in retrospect as a memory. I want to feel the full effect of my life.
*Forgiveness I am forgiving myself for not being perfect. I am not the perfect wife. I am not the perfect Mom. I am not the perfect friend or daughter.I don’t have the perfect body. I don’t have the perfect house. My temper leaves something to be desired. I over extend myself. I expect too much from myself and others. I fall short, in a lot of ways. But that doesn’t mean that my efforts do not have merit. I am hitting reset for everyone I know. I’m passing out forgiveness like kool aid at a Jonestown party. NO more Mommy guilt, no more fatty McFatty guilt, no more I’m not the perfect wife.My house is disheveled. My kids aren’t perfect.No more, I wish I was Bree Van De Kamp bullshit. From this moment forward, I am going to try my best at every endeavor that I choose to undertake with my priority being excelling at being a good example of a the kind of woman I want my daughters to see me as. I will never be perfect, and that is perfectly acceptable, as long as I am living my life as the best me. *This is the one that I REALLY have to work hard at!”
*Incite a Revolution I’m initiating a change in my way of life. I am actively taking steps to become the person that I want to be.That woman who lives inside of me and has been too afraid for a long time to take a gamble.The woman who, even though I hate to admit this, I have realized has been so afraid of failure that I have let it stave off success. No More! No more excuses. I’m not afraid of failure anymore.If I fall, I will just pick myself up and try, try again!But today, I am inciting a revolution between the version of myself that I’ve let myself get comfortable with and the woman I know I can be. I’m starting by setting fire to excuses and self doubt and I’m marching forward with self confidence.
What have you resolved to incite revolution about in your New Year? How are you going to go about succeeding? Happiest of New Years to each and everyone of you.Thank you so much for being part of the TRUTH about Motherhood community. 2012 is going to bring great things, I know it! Hang on to your hats ladies, it’s going to be battle of epic proportions but everything worth having in this life is worth fighting for. Are you ready to incite your own revolution in 2012?
The Revolution Starts Today
2011/12/31
Throat Punch Thursday ~ Trayvon Martin & the Racist Vigilante Edition
Trayvon Martin this one’s for you
This week’s Throat Punch is being given out in honor of Trayvon Martin. As a mother, my heart aches for Trayvon Martin’s parents. As a human, I am outraged. As a minority, I am fighting mad. This week’s Throat Punch is awarded to George Zimmerman the vigilante bigot who thought it was appropriate to shoot a boy in cold blood for the simple fact that the color of his skin was brown. I know that bigots are afraid of anyone different, especially when the packaging is a darker shade or two than their own skin. This is not the first time this has happened nor do I suspect this will be the last.
Trayvon Martin was a Good Kid
Trayvon Martin, from all accounts, was a good kid who happened to come across a not so good adult with a trigger happy finger. I can’t imagine the pain and anger that Trayvon Martin’s parents feel at the death of their son nor do I ever want to know it. Isn’t every parent’s biggest fear that their child is going to come into harms way? A rogue drunken driver, a stray bullet, a crazed assailant, cancer, abduction, stranger danger, choking on a raisin, getting hit by a car, wrecking while texting? There are so many ways that we worry about our children getting into harms way, every day. We don’t expect simply walking home from the store to be a particularly dangerous scenario. Walking home from the store should not be deadly, should it?
What is this world coming to that we can tolerate this sort of behavior? How can we stomach it as a people? Zimmerman says that it was self- defense. Evidence proves otherwise. Just because he was a racist who felt threatened by the color of a boy’s skin is not a legitimate reason for shooting Trayvon Martin dead and robbing his parents of their son forever. There will never be any little Trayvon Martin’s running to his mother’s lap. She will not see her son graduate from school. She will not get to dance the Mother/ son dance at Trayvon’s wedding. She will not get to see the man her son was supposed to become. She will never get to know that man. He will not be there in her old age to hold her hand and comfort her at the end. Now, his parents are left with a giant void in their chest where their heart used to be. The great joy they once knew upon seeing that baby Trayvon Martin be born has been replaced by pain and hatred. Hatred for George Zimmerman.
Nothing can make this right. Apparently, the big debate now is whether or not George Zimmerman used a racial slur when addressing Trayvon Martin. Truly, the fact remains, whether he used a slur or not, that he is a bigot and shot Trayvon Martin in cold blood for no other reason that he felt threatened. Zimmerman was threatened for the simple fact that he had a predisposed notion to feel afraid of black men. This is racism, whether there is a slur attached or not. The sentiment is the same. The result the same. Trayvon Martin is still dead.
Trayvon Martin may you Rest in Peace
Photo

2012/03/22
Just say No to Kiwi fuzz
Wasn’t it yesterday that I was cleansing my face with Noxema, wiping it religiously with alcohol & then moisturizer…all in the name of preventing a pimple? You know, because I’d get 1 every other month due to hormones. But it was the END of the world.Ah, the teen years. I had so much wildly curly hair that I had no idea what to do with it, other than complain and wish I had less. Straighter.I was a perfectly healthy size 10 but I wanted to be a 7,so ,obviously, I was never happy. Always, working out and staring at myself in the mirror, wishing that I was someone else. My teeth were so bright white that they could blind someone and thanks to braces they were unnaturally straight.Unnaturally.I even complained about that. I was 5’7″,I wanted to be 5’8″ because that’s how tall you had to be to be a model and all the girls in the magazine were at least that tall. I had to be at the beach ALL the time because I NEEDED a tan.Did I mention that I’m Mexican…naturally olive. I constantly had perfectly manicured fingers and toes because,really, what kind of manual labor was I doing? Waking to school? Lifting a hand to flip all that hair?That was me at 17.
This morning, I revisited an old friend of mine,you may know him Biore strips.Oh my, Jeez!How long has it been since I’ve had time to give any attention to myself? Seriously, when I pulled that little strip off..let’s say it revealed some astonishing things. Either I had 10 years worth of deep black heads or I have began sprouting hair in yet another place that I don’t want it.Either way, when I puled that strip off..it looked like kiwi fuzz. I assure that I am not walking around in public looking like this because if I were, let’s be certain of one thing, the Big Guy would most certainly have brought it to my attention. This triggered a chain reaction. I realized that my simple regime of keeping away the zits has evolved in to a full fledged routine. When did this happen? Now there is cleanser, deep cleanser, astringent, toner and that’s just to keep it clean and my pores from looking like an escape hatch from within. Then I have to add wrinkle night cream because God knows that I’ve got to keep those suckers at bay.
All that hair that I was *ahem* complaining about, well, I’ve noticed that it’s thinned out considerably from stress of life.Now, I wish I had that big crazy bush atop my head.Of course, it has began to grow rampantly on other parts of my body. My upper lip, my arms, my legs, my eyebrows…you know just all the places that a woman doesn’t want all that hair. Size 10? Well, let’s just say that I’ve not seen size 10 in about as many years! YEARS! In college, I was a 5 and then somewhere along the way I passed 10 right up on my journey to size 14, 16, 18,16, 14.Things have been stretched out and moved about and nothing looks like it did when I was 17 on this body.This body is foreign to me.This body has lived. Years of drinking coffee to wake up, Diet Coke to keep going and wine to go to sleep has made it necessary that I use whitening mouth wash, whitening strengthening tooth paste, and I’m probably going to have to move on up to full on whitening bleach soon.Can someone please invent clear coffee? Peryl, can you put a word in with Starbucks?
Tan? I am so pale most of the year now that I am pretty sure that I glow. I’ve seen the beach 3 times in the last 10 years. I used to my entire summer lying on the beach frolicking in the water. Now, you have to bribe me with money and booze to even put on a suit and go in public. The poor fingers and toes, they have been held hostage by Mommyhood for far too long. It started with pregnancy hormones drying all my skin up and my poor feet have yet to recover. I am in such desperate need of a pedicure that I’m actually ashamed to let the spa manicurists see my feet. It’s so far past the point of no return that I may need a big burly man manicurists with a sand blaster.I’m seriously thinking of going a state over to have this miracle performed just because I’m too ashamed of the possibility that I may run into them in the general public. I don’t think I could handle their judging eyes and knowing looks.
My point? What happened to all the waiting to grow up? I squandered all my beauty trying to grow up and now I’m etching closer and closer to 40 and trying to hold on to every ounce of youth I have left. I used to wake up bright eyed, bushy tailed and beautiful…now, I wake up tired! At least I get to look at my bright eyed,bushy tailed beautiful girls, right? Wrong! It’s not enough anymore to just bask in their glow. Mama is making a declaration..Mama needs to give herself some of the TLC that she’s been giving away by the bushels to others.There is no way that I’m walking around looking like my nose is covered in kiwi fuzz….anymore.KIWI FUZZ! I think I just vomited in my mouth a little at the very thought. I’m seeing a manicure and pedicure in my very near future, as well. Flip flop season is on the horizon.Time to make that dreaded trip to the next state over to meet with the big burly manicurist.
What do you do to make yourself feel beautiful? What do you think is the most important reason for you to be beautiful to you? Let’s all get our pretty back.hell, let’s bring our sexy back. And for God’s sake, Just say no to Kiwi Fuzz!

2011/03/15
Embracing the Unexpected

Last week, the Big Guy had an unexpected job interview. Unexpected because he loves the job he has, it’s his dream job. The past three years have been insanely chaotic for our family. I started this blog, the spring that my husband first had to leave us for a job; my daughters we’re 2 and 4. They are currently, almost 5 and 7. Many of you know the story of our two-year commuter marriage and all the upheaval that has come with that. The moving, the separation, the hurt and finally, the reunion, we have survived as a family. It’s been really hard. (more…)
2012/04/25
Best French Toast Recipe
I love long lazy summer weekends almost as much as I love homemade french toast. You know the ones where you don’t have to be anywhere or do anything in particular? The weekends when everything is easy and slow; the kids sleep in, no one has to be anywhere or do anything. Worries just float away. Weekends with no obligation are my favorite kind. Those are the weekends that you file away in your mind as the best weekends of your life.
Of course, our summer has been filled with constant running since the last day of school. In the past 4 weeks, we have been someplace else other than our home for 3 of those weeks. I’m vacationed out. In fact, I have been spending a lot of time dreaming of my own bed. Me, the insomniac, dreaming of sleeping in is quite funny.
It got me to thinking of one of my favorite weekends ever. The girls were 2 and 4 and it was before my husband lost his job and we started the 3 years of commuter hell. It was a Saturday, just like many other Saturday mornings in our home. The girls slept in until about 10 am (of all the things I miss about them getting older, I miss them sleeping in the most). The Big Guy and I slept until we woke up on our own. You remember those days? Waking up on your own is such a luxury these days.
We both woke up at about 9 am. He made coffee and we enjoyed it on the deck in our pajamas, as the warm late May sun washed over us. I remember his smile as we joked about our girls still sleeping. It felt like we shared a special secret that no one else in the world knew. Then one by one, two tiny beautiful angels emerged from the sliding doors, simultaneously rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and shielding themselves from the suns bright good morning greeting.
We greeted them with big smiles, we know that we are blessed, and to see that the two halves of us could make two such incredible wholes makes our hearts happy. Gabi clamored onto my lap, nearly knocking my sweet, warm coffee to the ground, as her sister did the same to the Big Guy. Soon they were stretched out like cats basking in the sun. All of us, in our pajamas, on a warm summer morning just being.
Everyone got hungry and the Big Guy decided that the occasion demanded French toast and bacon with fresh strawberries. As I cleaned and cut fruit, as the smell of bacon wafted through the kitchen from the oven, the Big Guy and the girls made the French toast.
It’s a very simple French Toast recipe but it bears the most amazing French toast and is our absolute favorite.
Ingredients
• 4 (1-inch) thick slices King’s Hawaiian Bread
• 4 large brown eggs
• 1/2 cup heavy cream
• 1/2 tsp. vanilla
• 1/4 tsp. cinnamon
• Butter for frying
• Pecan Praline syrup
Preparation
1. Slice bread crosswise so that each slice is about 1-inch thick. Set aside.
2. In a shallow mixing bowl, whisk together the eggs, heavy cream, vanilla and cinnamon.
3. Quickly dip slices (do not soak) in egg mixture and cook until golden brown on both sides.
4. Keep egg mixture stirred and spices well blended.
5. Sprinkle with powdered sugar and serve with warm pecan praline syrup.
6. Top with fresh strawberries and a side of crisp bacon.
7. Enjoy.
After we ate, we spent the rest of the day hanging out at our home just the four of us; doing nothing but it meant absolutely everything. I think of this day often, especially on those hectic days when we barely have a moment to kiss each other good morning or ask one another how our day is going. Soon our lives will be back to normal. We finally sold our home and will soon be buying a new one. I can’t wait for another day spent doing nothing with the three people that I love most in this world.
What food reminds you of a special moment in your life?
This is our favorite french toast recipe. What is your favorite dish to share with your family? Comment below and you’ll be entered to win a $200 Grocery gift card King’s Hawaiian.
This is a sponsored conversation written by me on behalf of Kings Hawaiian. The opinions and text are all mine. Official Sweepstakes Rules.
2012/06/26
Home is Wherever the People you Love Are
Home is More than Where You Live
Relocating~ The past few days were spent packing up our home; the house we’ve lived in since Bella was 5 months old. She is 7 years old and 4 months old. This is the house where I truly came into my mommy skin. It is where Bella crawled underneath the Christmas tree and stared up at the lights in complete awe. This is where we all had a lot of our firsts. It is the home where the Big Guy and I finally felt ‘home’. The home that Gabi was conceived in and brought home to and greeted by kisses and squeals of joy by her big sister. It will no longer be ours. It was the first home we lived in as a family. Soon, it will be where memories are made for another family.
I’ve been so caught up in moving forward & surviving the past 3 years of upheaval that I never let myself grieve for the loss of our home. Our. Home! The home where the Big Guy and I first heard the words muttered “ Mama & Dada” uttered from tiny mouths. The home where both of our daughters celebrated their first 4 birthdays will no longer feel the electric energy of both sides of the family gathering in celebration and love of our girls or my husband pouring every ounce of Daddy love into making the girls the birthday cake of their heart’s desire. My dad will never play his guitar and sing to my girls in that house. There will be no more annual Thanksgiving Rock Band marathons after turkey in our media room in that house. There will never be another Fourth of July spent in our back yard with all of our friends and family playing corn hole and having spontaneous water fights. I will miss all of that.
As I packed the sum of our life until now, I’d come across a binky, stuffy or some other newborn toy that I know we’ll never need again & my heart sunk a little thinking of the children I raised in this house and the one that I lost, who I will never see smiling up at me from the jumper in the bedroom door jam. The baby who I will never walk around our neighborhood at dusk, as the streets were flooded with our neighbors walking off the day. Sitting on the back deck sipping coffee with the man of my dreams, listening to the morning birds in the early sun as the girls sleepily found their way into our laps. Seeing the yard where the sign stood welcoming Gabi home reminded me of how I felt that day. The happiness and joy that I felt through my exhaustion at my two beautiful, perfect daughters. The neighborhood where both girls celebrated their first Halloweens dressed as the cutest pumpkins I have ever seen. The house where my girls made their first friends had first play dates and learned the value of a good friend. The back deck where the Big Guy placed a corsage on Bella’s wrist at the tender age of three for her first Daddy and Daughter dance just so he could set the standard of respect and love that our girls would demand from all men henceforth.
Home is All the Love that Fills a House
This home was filled with the laughter of the people we love so much, tears of joy and pain as we endured hurts and embraced firsts. The home where I had a 1 year old Bella toddle over to her Daddy and hand the Big Guy a card and a small box which held inside of it one of the greatest gifts I could give him, the announcement of our second pregnancy. Our home where the Big Guy got down on one knee and proposed to me, 11 years after our wedding just because I never got the down on one knee proposal of my dreams the first time. This is why he IS the man of my dreams. In our home, this is where the Big Guy encouraged me to pursue my dreams of becoming a writer and start this blog. He gave me the support to give it my all and the love to continue on even when I felt no one else was listening. He was my first ‘fan’, he is still my biggest fan and that means something to me.
This home is where the four of us became a family and learned the meaning of the bond two people share once they have children together. It is the house where I learned that my heart could walk around freely outside of my body and I could survive. It’s where I realized that marrying your soul mate means someone to share everything with and to bring you unfathomable joy but it also means that you have more to lose than anyone else. It’s where we learned that when you have a second child, your love and attention does not split; your heart and love double, at the very least. It’s the house where I learned that unconditional love is not only possible, it is by far my greatest privilege to be able to give it to these other three people and my honor to receive it from them. I am blessed beyond measure and thankful to have them to love, every single day of my life. A place cannot contain heart bursting unconditional love, heartbreaking memories and the feeling of really belonging, these all reside in your heart and that goes with you wherever you go.
When I pull away from our home that final last time later this week, I know I will cry for all the growing we did there; all the experiences we had together; gummy smiles and realizing our family was growing, Sunday’s when daddy had to leave, teaching the girls to ride their bikes and watching as they were born, then watching them grow from newborn, to toddler, preschooler and the first day of school. The beginnings of the growing up and letting go of the most important things in my life all started here. I’d like to take it all and put it in my mind on an endless loop, like a memory hoarder but then there would never be room for new experiences. I look forward to the next chapter of our lives together. I am excited and elated knowing that we will be in a home together, just the four of us again, going to bed and waking up and everyone being in the same house. I will cry when I say goodbye to the only home the four of us have ever known but I will be thankful for living the experience. Home is where your heart is even when your belongs are long gone.
Home is Where Your Heart Is
2012/07/02
Will All the Politicians Kindly Back the Eff out of My Uterus?
What constitutes a rape? Apparently, some politicians are confused about this term.
During an interview the congressman and U.S. Senate candidate, Todd Akin, was asked whether abortion should be allowed in the case of rape.
Akin’s response was that it was his understanding from doctors that it’s rare for someone to become pregnant from rape. He said, “The female body has ways to try and shut that whole thing down.”
He went on to say that punishment should be on the rapist and not the child.
How about the punishment be on the rapist and NOT on the victim of his rape? How about that Mr. Akin?
‘But I believe deeply in the protection of all life and I do not believe that harming another innocent victim is the right course of action.’
“Governor Romney and Congressman Ryan disagree with Mr. Akin’s statement,” the campaign said. “A Romney-Ryan administration would not oppose abortion in instances of rape.”
You know what I hear? Blah, blah, blah let’s backpedal ourselves away from this one as fast as we can. Are we changing our way of thinking? Hell no! Are we stupid enough to say we support this now? Hell no! We’ll put those bitches in their place after we are elected.
What gives a politician the right to pass judgment and decide when a woman can or cannot get an abortion? It’s legal. We don’t need your fucking permission. Good for you that you don’t openly oppose it but it’s not your business to oppose. I think it’s ridiculous that a bunch of old, fat, white men get the power to determine what all the women of the country get to do with their bodies.
When did it become government’s business to differentiate whether or not a rape is “legitimate” or not? “Forcible” or not? What the fuck does that even mean? Rape is rape, you asshole.
The definition of rape:
A criminal offense defined in most states as forcible sexual relations with a person against that person’s will.
That means someone had sex with a woman (I know it happens to men too but for the sake of this argument, I am going to refer to the victim as a woman) and she didn’t consent. She could have screamed bloody murder and yelled no as loud as her voice would allow. She could have fought and scratched and gouged his eyes out. Or she could have been on a date with a cute boy that she liked and said no but her date decided to go on any ways. She could be married and told her drunk husband no and he forcibly had sex with her. She could have been at a frat party for the first time, drank too much and been left behind by her friends, passed out and been taken advantage of. Or she could have been with her boyfriend of 5 years and said she didn’t want to have sex and he tied her up and did it anyways. She could have been in her home, minding her own business when an intruder broke in, grabbed her walking up the stairs, walking to the university library or on her way to class and forcibly had sexual relations with her. She could be a little girl who has a perverted uncle. If a man forces a woman to have sex against her will…that is rape.
Rape is not love. Rape is not sex. Rape is not something that she asked for. Rape is not something that she deserves. Rape is a weak person doing an angry thing to hurt an innocent person. I don’t give a shit if she was dancing on tables, walking around with her vagina hanging out of the bottom of her skirt, her breasts exposed and she was flirting with you. If we say no, it means no and if you have sex with us anyways, you have just committed rape.
Apparently, the male politicians in this country have taken it upon themselves to declare war on women’s reproductive rights.
Do they really believe that women can will their bodies to not be pregnant or be pregnant? What are we sorcerers? This isn’t a movie. Take a damn biology class boys. If that were a true statement, then we would not have so many women who desperately want children but can’t have them and we certainly wouldn’t have the multitudes of women who are destroyed by the loss of their babies. But apparently if it’s a “Legitimate” rape our body knows to shut it down. Fuck you Mr. Akin!
I know Romney and Ryan are distancing themselves from Akin but the problem is that his opinion is not the minority in the Republican house. He just happens to be the moron who said it out loud in an interview. The government, democrat and republicans alike, have made it their mission to tell us women what we can and cannot do with our bodies.
Now, they are going so far to try to tell women whether or not the rape they survived was actually rape at all.
Need I remind you of the trans-vaginal ultrasounds in the case of all abortions, Georgia State Representative Terry England comparing women to farm animals and trying to pass legislation that is a baby dies in utero women should have to carry it to term or let it pass on its own, NYC’s Mayor Bloomberg mandating that women get a “talking to” before they can choose formula over breastfeeding because obviously we need the guidance of a man to teach us what is best for us.
Let me tell you what, I don’t even go to a male gynecologist because I believe that unless your legs have been in those cold stirrups and you’ve had the experience of a speculum being shoved uncomfortably into your cervix then you have no idea what that feels like. I don’t care how many damn books you’ve read about giving birth or how many babies you’ve delivered, if you have not pushed a 15-inch head from your uterus through the birth canal and out of your vagina then you don’t know what it feels like. Stop pretending you do. I don’t know what it feels like to be kicked in the balls and I don’t pretend to. I would never pass legislation that required men to suck it up, rub some dirt on it and carry on. Why? Because I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about because I don’t have a penis and balls.
It seems the United States government is making it’s disdain for abortions and those women who get them, for whatever reason, very clear. I am in no way pro-abortion. I could never get one myself, especially since having children but I am pro-choice. Every woman has the right to choose what is best for her and her body. We are not animals. We are not children. We don’t need your advice. We don’t need your punishment and we certainly do not need your permission.
Where does this stop? Today it’s abortions in the case of rape, next they will take D & C’s and D & E’s off the table. These are medically necessary extractions of fetal tissue from women who have lost their pregnancies but what’s to stop some random male politician who isn’t a doctor from deeming it unethical or immoral? Then what happens? Then women start dying in droves because contrary to Akin we can not dictate what our uterus will do with a pregnancy.
Women, this is your call to action. We have to vote to preserve our rights over our own bodies. We deserve the right to choose what happens with our own reproduction. Stand up and vote in November. Get up early before you take the kids to school. Do it while they are there. Do it on your lunch hour. Hire a babysitter. Do whatever you need to but vote because the alternative is to give your reproductive rights over to the Akin’s of the world. To not vote is to allow rape to be quantified.

Rape is Rape

Also, I am guest posting at Scary Mommy today and would love if you would go check out Some Things Change Your Forever. You will understand why women’s reproductive rights are so very close to my heart.
Photo
2012/08/23
My Daughter Thinks I’m Ugly

Talk about your body image being crushed. My daughter thinks I’m ugly. She told me that I’m prettier on the “inside” than I am on the outside. She even qualified it by saying, “Mommy, I’ve lived on the inside, so I should know.” She told me this last week.
I won’t lie; I wasn’t looking particularly pretty on that day. If I remember correctly, I was wearing yoga pants, a tank top and my hair was pulled back in a disheveled ponytail. You know, the same thing I wore yesterday and the day before and probably today. Isn’t that the standard new Mommy uniform? It is in my house. Or maybe I’m just too tired to care lately. It’s been a hectic summer with lots of changes and little sleep.
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2012/08/28