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5 year blog anniversary, blogging, 5 years

Happy 5-years of blogging anniversary to me!

My blog is officially going off to kindergarten in the fall. Honestly, every year my blog turns another year older and I completely forget to celebrate on the anniversary. I never forget my kids’ birthdays and let’s face it; this blog is like my third child. It’s been a labor of love for sure and I have definitely poured my blood, sweat, tears and truth into this hear little website.

It probably has a lot to do with May being hell month in our house.  We are booked solid all month long. The four of us, the Big Guy, the girls and I, just muddle through the entire month in a blur and then on June 1st we all sit down, put our feet up and exhale a sigh of relief.

But not today, today I have flower beds to plant, pitches to send, conference calls to attend and a garage that has to be rearranged as we are finally emptying our storage unit from back in the days when the house was staged for selling.  It’s been 3 years.  Anyways, today, I am pausing to say thank you. Thank you for the past 5 years! Thank you for all of the love and support and perspective. You complete me. The Big Guy made me a wife, the girls made me a mother but you all made me a blogger. And all of you helped me to find my dream and go after it.

When I started this blog, I had no idea what to expect or what I was doing. Some of you may suspect that I still don’t and, truly, I am still learning something new every single day. That’s what I love about blogging.  Like motherhood the space is constantly changing, the rules are different and there are fads a many but I have just stuck to my original plan; to do it all with honesty and try my best to not screw things up too badly.

Today, The TRUTH about Motherhood turns 5. I can barely remember the time that I didn’t write this blog. It’s gotten me through the toughest moments of motherhood and I’ve made lifelong friends through this site.  You’ve been there to make me not feel alone in those quiet times of doubt, held my hand when I thought I couldn’t go on and even celebrated the little wins in my life and I hope I have done the same for you.

There are changes coming for The TRUTH, you’ve been warned.  I mean you know how 5-year-olds are? They like to shake things up.  This month we celebrate 5 years of blogging, 4 years of Throat Punching on Thursdays, 15 years of marriage, 9 years of motherhood and my youngest turns 7-years-old.  I’d complain about being so damn busy but I can’t because I am so damned blessed.

Stay tuned for changes. Speaking of changes, this Friday I will start a new weekly feature called This Blogger’s Life. I will be interviewing some of your and my favorite bloggers and even some new and up and coming bloggers. Wouldn’t you love to be the fly on the wall on the inside of a blogger’s brain? Well, now you can. Our first interview will go live this Friday with Jill Smokler of Scary Mommy. Hope you’ll check it out.

Thanks for the past 5 years, it truly has been life changing. If you want to stay connected, I am also lots of fun on Facebook ( I won’t lie, I like to share a lot of cool things I find on the Internet and see what you think about it), Twitter ( I like to have silly conversations in 140 characters), Instagram ( I posts lots of photos of cute bulldogs, cute kids, nature and the occasional photo of myself with no nose ), Pinterest ( where I pin all the pretty and cool things) and Google+ ( where I am still trying to figure it all out. Want to follow me so that I can get some lessons from you?)

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wedding, anniversary, wedding anniversary, love, Big Guy

wedding, anniversary, 14th wedding anniversary, love, Big Guy14 years ago today, I married my best friend. But 1 year and 8 months earlier, I met the man I would marry; the man who would ruin me for all other men. It was my senior year at Purdue. I should have graduated 2 years prior, but due to taking time off and various life circumstances, I was in the right place at the right time to meet the Big Guy. I shouldn’t have been there but I was and I am convinced it was meant to be.

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Man and woman embracing, Valentine's Day, love, young couple enjoying a romantic day outdoors


How do I love you? Let me count the ways~ There are two camps for Valentine’s Day; the die-hard head-over-heels, love to be in love and shower the people they love with trinkets on Valentine’s Day and those who hate the very idea of Valentine’s Day. Hallmark holiday, waste of money, uncomfortable for new couples camp.

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I can’t remember exactly how or when I met the lovely Alexandra, the voice of Good Day Regular People. I do know that she is like the big sister that I never had. She is a wonderful woman who writes a very smart, funny, entertaining and honest blog. I love reading her because for me, she is very relate-able. We share a common thread, we are both Latinas and Mothers. But her pieces are more than just that, they are the voices of Motherhood that transcend race, religion,creed, or station in life. If you are not already a follower of Alexandra, I hope that you will be. Not only is she an amazing supporter for her bloggy friends, she truly does celebrate her fellow women and she is full of maternal wisdom.I am honored to have her here today sharing her very tender and intimate truth about motherhood. She is one of the bravest women I know.I know that once you read her, you will hold her in as high a regard as I do. Thank You Alexandra for sharing your story.  XO, Debi


Since I can remember, I have wanted to be a mother.


To have my own babies, and have a laundry basketful of little bitty socks and soft, cotton onesies to fold.


When I was five years old, I confessed to my grandmother, “Abuela, I can’t wait to have my own children.”  Her response to me was, “God waits to send the perfect children just for you.”  I smiled at the thought of what precious baby God would choose for me.  I imagined having a little girl, full of curls and large, dark eyes, all legs kicking and joyful giggling.


I knew I would be a perfect mother, for that perfect baby. I would be the best mother there ever was. I would be loving, patient, full of kisses and good nature and never without a smile on my face and laughter in my voice. I would be a dream mom.


As time went on, my baby fever never wained. And the longer life had me wait for that perfect baby, the more precise the vision of what type of mother I would be, became. With every year that my biological clock ticked on, the more mature and wisened I imagined myself in the role of a lifetime: that of a mother.


I was growing impatient, and frankly, scared, when I was approaching 35 years old, and still without that one baby. That baby that my life felt empty without. That baby that would bring me all the happiness I felt I was missing. That baby that would make my life perfect. I knew that when that baby came,  the heavens would open and a chorus of angels would sing, and I would be happy, fulfilled, and never experience any sort of sadness or negative feeling for the rest of my life.


Just five months short of my 36th birthday, I finally had that golden, much awaited, baby. The one that would bring me all the joy I knew would come with finally being a mother. All I had dreamed of was finally, here, in my arms.


What wasn’t part of my life’s dream, however, was the shock of the feelings I was having after the birth of this baby.


I was scared. I was in pain. I was confused and panicked. I was oh so very tired. And I had a baby that wasn’t crying, but screaming and inconsolable, painfully latching on to engorged breasts.


I burst into tears. This was the moment I had been waiting for my entire life? This?


What was wrong with me? I should be up and dancing and calling people on the phone, joyfully. Not laying here, in this hospital bed, hooked up to an I.V., with tears streaming down my face, holding a baby that I knew could read my mind that said, “I’m too scared to be your mama.”


I kept all these feelings to myself, I was so full of shame. I never heard of anyone crying with unhappiness when their baby was born. And especially me. Everyone in my life knew that all I ever wanted, was to have my own baby.


Fortunately, my Dr. was astute enough to know this was not a case of baby blues lite. She had me in her office by Day 5 of my beautiful boy being born.


She sent me to a Post Partum Depression specialist. My wonderful Dr. would call me at home, to see how I was doing.  She located a PPD support group for me. She even called my husband and told him how important it was that he be home with me.


Was this the way I imagined the birth of my life long awaited first baby to be? No. It so sadly wasn’t.


This first baby is now 16 years old. But, the memory of his birth is a vivid, visceral one.


I have worked hard, through therapy, to forgive myself for not welcoming his coming into the world with joy. I have had to forgive myself.


The Truthful Mommyism that I’ve had to learn, is that I’m not perfect, but that does not make me any less of the perfect mother for my children. I am who I am, battle scars and all, and I’ve learned that facing and working through the challenges that life has sent my way, has made me see myself as a strong, brave, determined woman.  When my first child was born, not only did I have a newborn to take care of, but I did it with PPD, temporarily broken dreams, and, at the time, disappointment in myself.


I did it, I survived, and I am proud to say, that I am proud of myself.

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