Marriage After Children

                                      
I got married and had children young. Some may argue too young, but it is what it is. All of my friends are in their 40s and 50s. I have a sprinkling of friends in their late 30s. Most of my peers have babies, toddlers and very young children. I love to see their pictures and their musings on social media. I also see posts about how hard it is. Lack of sleep, the baby weight, how sometimes it generally sucks. The other day I was in the grocery store. I noticed this young couple with a toddler and a baby. They decided that grocery shopping would be a fun family outing for some reason. The toddler decided that he wanted to be in the dairy section, not the frozen section. The baby fussed as babies do. The mom was in athleisure wear and her hair in a messy ponytail.

She was annoyed at the dad who was there but not exactly taking charge of the situation. By the time they got to the checkout line, they were both irritated with each other and they definitely were not having a good time. I said a prayer for them on my way home. Having young children can take a major toll on a marriage. It is so incredibly difficult. I have so been there.

I often talk about how we don't tell the truth about the reality of motherhood and how difficult it is. I joke that I LOVE my kids but I hate being a mom. I'm not a fan of the WORK part of it. I stayed home with my children until my oldest was 4. We had very little help, we did not live around family for the first 3 years. My oldest was born on a Monday, we were discharged from the hospital on Wednesday and my husband went back to work on Thursday. I was 20 years old. My youngest was born at home on a Saturday and my husband went back to work on Monday.

When women become mothers, everything changes for us. Our bodies are stretched and unrecognizable to ourselves. By default, we are the primary care givers for our children. Whether we like it or not, our biology has designed it to be this way. We give up friends (or sometimes they give us up), careers, hobbies and often, romance. Not because we want to but because giving care to young children requires nearly 100 percent of your time and energy.

But the world for men doesn't seem to be affected very much. They carry on with their life like business as usual, or so it seems. There is a sense of unfairness about the whole thing. When you are a stay at home mother of young children - that is your job. Keeping the house and tending to the children. Your husband's job is getting up and going to work everyday and bringing home the bacon. Seems fair, right?

I remember waking up with my youngest at 4 am to breastfeed her for what felt like the 6th time that night, looking over at the clock and thinking about how tired I was and how my 2 year old would be up in less than 3 hours and how busy the day would be. I gazed over at my husband who was sleeping peacefully. He would get up and go to work. He'd drink coffee with his co-workers, he'd sit at his desk and do his work for 8 hours. Then, he would come home to dinner cooked by me and get to relax.

I hated him in that moment. My husband, the father of my children. I resented him. It wasn't just that though. He didn't help enough. I always had to nag him to help me clean up, the house could be a wreck, the children would be fussing and still he seemed unbothered by it all. Couldn't he see that I was struggling? He'd rile up the kids right before bed which used to make me so angry, he'd stop for food with co-workers after work when I needed a break and some relief. He'd try to touch me and I'd shy away because I was touched out.

He would come home from work and complain about how tired he was. How tired HE was. Ha! Was he up half the night, EVERY night with the baby? Was he planning outings with a 2 year old? Did he have to take a shit everyday with a baby on his lap while reading a book to the toddler? No. How dare he complain to ME?!?!?! It became this weird contest of who worked harder, who was more tired, who was the more attentive parent. When really, it was just that being a parent of young children is HARD. For everyone. We were making it harder by not working together.

Because MY life had changed so drastically and because I bore most of the responsibility for the children and the house, I had left my husband behind. So here I was at 22 with this baby and toddler and I could feel my marriage coming apart at the seams. I had a wake-up call and I decided that I was tired of bitching. I was tired of being angry and trying to change him. I decided that if he wasn't going to change, I was going to change MYSELF.

I stopped bitching at him. If he didn't want to help me, then that was on him. Not on me. I decided I was not going to be angry anymore. I spent more time and energy bitching at him than it took to me to just do the thing I was nagging him to do. I was in the kitchen one evening, cooking dinner. The baby was on my back, my oldest was playing with blocks in the living room and my husband was playing a video game. I asked him to take out the trash. "Okay," he said.

Then, he never got up and did it. Typical. So, I just took out the trash myself. I didn't berate him about him. I wasn't angry about it. I bundled the trash up and took it out. He looked up at me as I was leaving the house, "What are you doing? I told you I would take out the trash."
"Well, you never got around to it, so I have time now. No big deal," I said.

When he wanted to wrestle and rile up my 2 year old before bed, I didn't snap at him. I read her 3 books and laid down with her after. "Why'd she take so long to get to bed?" he asked. "She was just a little excited to play with you, it's all good."

When he offered to take the kids for a few hours on a Sunday morning while I slept, I didn't bitch when I got out of bed and saw that the baby was still in pajamas and there were Cheerios all over the floor. "Thanks for letting me sleep," I said.

Then, something happened. Once I stopped being an actual bitch and emasculating my husband every day, he stepped the hell up. When I asked him to take out the trash for me, he just did it. He stopped rough housing with the kids before bed and did when he got home while I cooked dinner. He took the kids more often. He would even offer to hang with them while I went shopping or had a coffee and read magazines. He stopped going out with co-workers after work. I was happier and more rested. When he touched me, I welcomed it. He became the husband and father I had always imagined he would be. We became a team and life was so much easier after that.

That's when I realized that when I became a mother, I left my husband behind. I was so wrapped up in how difficult it was and how much MY life changed that I did not acknowledge how much his life has changed. I became a stranger to him. My focus was entirely on the children and I know he resented that. He missed me, the girl he had fallen in love with. He was working so hard to support our family and the stress of being the sole bread winner was hard for him. When he tried to help with the children, I would correct him and it really made him feel like a bad father. I didn't realize that he riled up the children before bed because he only got to be with them 2 hours a day and it was a special time for him. He missed them, he felt that is was unfair that I had a bond with them that he didn't have. He wasn't trying to make my life harder. He wanted to help me but didn't know HOW.

I decided that I would be a wife first. That doesn't mean that I feel like my husband is more important than my children but it does mean that I make him a priority in my life. Because I do this, he reciprocates. He is an amazing father. As the children have gotten older, it is easier. That is one of the reasons why we only have 2 children. We struggled so much in those early years that we decided that our marriage could not survive any more children.

We pull no punches about this with our children. They know that our marriage comes first. We are insanely involved, we rarely leave them to go out, we are GOOD parents but out marriage is a priority. Sometimes they will come to me about something that their father did that they disagree with-a punishment that is too punitive, an event they want to go to, ect. I am the more laid back parent and he is more strict and so sometimes we can have some differences. "I'll talk to him but if he says "no", the answer is "no"." They protest, "But, MOM!" I remind them, "You will leave me but he will still be here with me when you go off to live your own life. I must be on good terms with him." Usually, I can come up with a comprise that works with all parties. I'm the mediator of the household.

 When we see couples with young kids, we laugh and look and each other and think, "How did we even survive it?" It was insanely difficult. Having older kids is hard and stressful but I'll take teenagers over toddlers any day of the week.

Last week, I was in the car with my 14 year old, driving her to school. We were chatting as usual. "I have to tell you something that happened last night that was very disturbing," she said.
My interest was piqued. "What is it?"
"Well," she continued, "I was in your bathroom looking for something and I saw a bottle in your bottom drawer and I thought it was fancy face wash. Well, I picked it up and I saw it was butterscotch flavored heating lotion. I threw it and screamed."
"Sounds like maybe you shouldn't be digging around in my bathroom," I said.
"MOM. That is so gross. Why do you have that?!?!" she said accusatory.
I laughed, "I mean, I feel like you are old enough to know why."
She make a puke sound, "You need to get rid of it. You are a mother."
"I am a WIFE," I reminded her. "Why did you have to tell about it? Why didn't you just shut the drawer and pretend like you never saw it."
"I wanted you to know and to feel bad about it," she said, joking.
"Feel bad about living my best life? Not a chance," I laughed.
"I literally hate you," she said.
"You LOVE me," I said.

We listened to music for a moment and I looked at her and said, "You know there are much worse things in life. I kind of think you are lucky that your parents still like each other."
She nodded, "I am." She knows.

If you have young kids, and you are tired, and you feel like life is unfair, and your marriage is circling the toilet - take a step back, re-evaluate and know that this is normal. Transitioning into parenthood is extremely difficult and takes YEARS. Heck, my kids are almost raised and many times I feel like I am still transitioning. It is easier to get through it with a partner than it is an enemy. It's not too late to try again. Hold on to hope that is gets easier. Maybe not today or tomorrow but take a deep breath and tell yourself that "this too shall pass." Because it will.

18 Years Flew By

                   
Just like that, 18 years with my man have gone by. My husband was in Hawaii for it, so there was no celebrating. Just a quick phone call. Which is fine. After 18 years there is little urgency. We'll celebrate when he gets back. Or we won't, whatever. It's all good.

I laugh that we are so interdependent now. We really are melded together. My husband got back from a work trip a few weeks ago and he was crawling into bed that first night home and he said, "I'm finally going to sleep good tonight. I hate sleeping alone." He always complains that he can never sleep well if I'm not next to him. He doesn't like to be awake if I'm not awake. We have this joke in our house about how, if he wakes up before me, he always finds an excuse to wake me up. The kids roast him about it. The Sunday that he came back, he let me sleep. I actually heard him putting on coffee downstairs, but I laid in bed for a few minutes relaxing.

A moment after I stood up out of bed, I heard my husband coming up the stairs. He stood in the doorway and smiled. "You're up," he said. He'd heard me get out of bed. He was waiting. He knows that I like peace and quiet in the morning. Don't talk to me before I have my coffee. I fixed myself oatmeal and coffee and sat on the couch. He sat down next to me. I was sipping my coffee and reading the news, enjoying the peace and quiet. He looked at me for a minute, then down at his phone, then back at me and finally said, "I'm going to need you to chug your coffee, because I really want to talk to you." I laughed so hard. He knows me too well.

He actually wound up getting sick that afternoon. He had a fever of 102 and was laid up in bed. This is the area where I shine. If you are sick- I will take care of you. I whipped up some chicken noodle soup from scratch. I'll give you your meds. I'll put a cold compress on your head and attend to your every need. My girlfriend was coming over for tea and cheesecake that evening. I had to straighten up and cook dinner. I gave him his medicine and some cold orange juice. I went to leave and he said, "Where are you going?"
"Downstairs. I have a lot to do."
He looked up at me with the most pitiful eyes, "Will you lay with me?"
I rolled my eyes so hard.
                                         
"Are you serious?" I asked.
He nodded. "Okay, for like, 5 minutes."
I crawled into bed with him and rubbed his back. Poor guy.

I quarantined him upstairs and cleaned my house and was hanging out with my girlfriend and was telling her everything you have just read. At that moment, I heard someone come down the stairs. My husband just stood in the doorway. He just stood there, looking at me in a daze. He didn't say anything. "Yes, dear?" I asked. "I wanted to let you know that I'm feeling better and I'm going to eat some soup now," he said.
"Would you like me to fix it for you?" I asked.
"No. I just was letting you know."
My girlfriend chuckled. "My husband is the same way!" She's been with her husband since she was 14-15 and they have been together longer than we have.

He makes me laugh so hard. A few weeks ago, we were laying in bed and he turned to me and said, "Why don't you put on some music to set the mood?" *Don't worry, you can keep reading, this story is PG*
Me, being the asshole that I am, said, "I have just the thing," I grabbed my phone and played The Oldest Melody in the World.

He looked at me sideways, "What is this?!?!" 

"Shhhhhhhhhh. Close your eyes," I said. "Now imagine that it's 1,300 BC. We are in some beautiful villa in Crete. We are on the coast and we look out and see the clear blue ocean. There is a minotaur roaming around outside......"

"Minotaur's are frightening," he interjected.

"Shhhhhhhh," I continued. "You've just gotten home from selling bread at the market. I'm here waiting for you in a white, flowy dress with nothing underneath-"

"Wait, wait, wait," he said. "I was selling bread at the market?"

"Yes."

"I'm the BREAD man? Of all the things you made me be the bread man? Can't I be something cooler?" he said.

I laughed, "Sure. I guess. I mean, I'm just making this up on the fly. You wanna be a blacksmith or something?

"Ok."

"Ok. You come home from your long day as a blacksmith. I'm in a white flowy dress and I've been waiting for you all day. We can hear the waves and the music playing-" 

He interrupts again, "Where is the music coming from? It's 1,300 BC."

"I don't know, there's a guy in the corner playing music," I said. 

"There's a GUY in the corner WATCHING us and playing music?!?!?!" he said. "I gotta be honest, this is not doing anything for me."

We laughed so hard that we were wiping tears out of the corner of our eyes. We are both weirdos, we are meant to be together. 

My husband is a very quiet and private man. In some ways I feel like I have this wonderful secret that no one knows about. It's like I have a treasure chest of gold and only I have the map. He has always fascinated me. He is not like everybody else. When I first met him, he was this punk-ass Puerto Rican boy who played Dungeons and Dragons and listened to electronica. He was eccentric and serious. He refused to chase me. I wanted to peel back his layers and live off of his kisses. I still do. 

We have been lucky. We have been mostly happy. I feel truly honored to be his wife. If I could do things over again, I would not change a thing. If you are are reading this, dear - even though you are 4,755 miles away- I love you to the moon and all the way back home. Thank you for making my life beautiful. Happy 18. 

The Struggle

It's been a month since I updated this blog. A lot of things can happen in a month. If I knew then what I know now......

We went to Mexico City, which was amazing and wonderful. The people were so kind and welcoming, the food was delicious, the city was beautiful. It was like being in a movie, a dream. I feel like every place we travel to, I leave a piece of my heart and I definitely left a piece of my heart in Mexico City. It was a 10 out of 10 experience. If you get the opportunity to go in your lifetime, you should.

By the end of our trip, my husband and children were ready to go home. Not me. I'm never ready to go home. I love being on vacation. I don't have to cook, or do laundry, or keep a schedule and to-do list in my head. I just get to be with my children. They are with me the whole time, I can see them. I can see that they are happy. I am content.

Despite having an amazing trip and being super careful about what I ate and drank (besides the crickets I had with dinner), I got sick the day we flew home. Seriously bad, like I think I had dysentery.
                   
I didn't eat a meal for TEN days after I got back. I existed on broth, toast, bananas, apple sauce and peppermint tea. My husband was convinced I was dying. "Dude, you need to go to the hospital." I shrugged him off. "Nah, I just need oral re hydration. If my mucus membranes start getting dry, I'll go in and get some IV fluids." He under-estimates my willingness to suffer. After 10 days, things were better. I started to eat again. I was very weak but I survived it. I can laugh about it now. All is well.

Since we returned from our trip, life has been a whirlwind. Every single person in my house is going through "something." Our own separate issues and situations. It has been exceedingly difficult. When the children are having a hard time, I feel uneasy.

Last week was bad. I was still feeling weak from being sick and not eating for so long, PMS was hitting me hard, I'm dealing with some personal things, my husband and I were both stressed and overwhelmed and the girls were not feeling their best and were projecting it on us. I dropped my oldest off at youth group and she was having a bad attitude. It was not like her. She is going through something. She said something that hurt my feelings. I generally don't take it personally but lately, I have been fragile. I stopped at the grocery store on the way home to get eggs and creamer.

I had purchased eggs and creamer the night before but had left them on the counter and when I woke up in the morning they were ruined. I brought the replacements and as I drove home I thought about the children and the things they are struggling with and I thought about some of the things that were burdening me. I felt empty and heavy all at the same time. I pulled into the driveway and popped the trunk and dragged my exhausted body out of the car to retrieve my groceries. It was a beautiful night, unseasonably warm. I looked up at the sky and the stars were twinkling.

I just started talking to God. Outloud. In my driveway. "Listen, If you want to test my faith, I can accept that but if there is any strength inside of me, I need you to help me find it. I need you to help me dig down deep. I need you to show me that I'm strong because I am struggling." My neighbors probably think I am insane. They wouldn't be wrong. In that moment, I needed to say it out loud, to hear my own voice.

When I worked at the hospital, I would come in early in the morning and I would always get sent in to the new mothers who were in crisis. It was always the same situation. Different room, different mother, same situation every time. I would walk in and the mother would be attempting to nurse a screaming newborn who was not cooperating, dad was asleep on that terrible window bench.

I'd smile and introduce myself and ask to look at the baby. I'd take the crying baby and check the diaper and do my assessment and then wrap the baby up and calm him/her. Then I would turn to the mother and ask how things were going and she would tell me the story of how the first day everything was great, and how all of a sudden the baby wanted to do nothing but scream, could not be put down, just wanted to be on her all.night.long. Then the tears would come. "I don't know if I can do this," "I'm so tired," "How am I going to go back to work in 6 weeks?" "What am I doing wrong?"

It was always the same, pick your adventure. Then I would get the baby on the breast and I gave the same speech every time. "Your baby is transitioning into the world and is used to the warmth and comfort of the womb. All he/she knows is you. Your voice, your smell, your heartbeat. You are the safe place. I don't want you to think about 6 weeks from now, or even tomorrow. Let's just get through this feeding and then talk about what we need to do to get through today. Let's make a plan."

That somehow would make things better for them, to remind them that even though things were hard in the moment, they wouldn't be hard forever. Sometimes, when you break things down it's better, it seems more manageable. I give the same speech to my children (at least part of it).

When they are struggling with something, I am their safe place. They come to me and let it all out. They may be in total crisis mode and having a full on teenage/tweenage meltdown about whatever- being overwhelmed at school, friend problems, stress about the future....and they come to me in a panic. I tell them to be calm. "Breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth, and when you are calm, talk to me." And they do. And I listen. Then I reassure and then a plan is made. "So what are you planning to do about this situation?" or "What are you going to do different?" or "What do you need to do to get through today?" or "How can I help?"

Then they tell me what their plan of action is, I offer encouragement and tell them that everything will be okay (which it will be) and then we work on making it through the day.

The other week, my kid and her friends were in the car and we were having a conversation like this and her friend says, "Wow, you are like a wise old owl." NO. I don't want to be a wise old owl.
                     
                                I want to be a f*cking fabulous peacock
                    

After we talk, they always feel better. They might not be 100% but they are calm and have a plan and go on with their day. But then I'm not okay. On the outside, I am calm and I am rational. But on the inside, it hurts me. I take on their emotions. I actually do this with everyone. That's why I'm a shitty family member and friend. I have to be emotionally disconnected from other people because otherwise it takes too much out of me. I can't be there for other people because literally it takes everything I have just to show up and be there for myself and my children. I will not apologize for this ever but it does make me feel guilty sometimes.

When I'm struggling, I try to keep it to myself. Although I'm terrible at hiding it from my husband. He ALWAYS knows. "What's wrong?" he'll ask. "What do you mean? Nothing is wrong," I'll reply. I don't like to burden other people with my problems. Even my husband. Let's face it - my problems are not that big. I have a good life, my kids are beautiful and healthy, I have everything I need. Whenever I talk about my problems, I hate it. Like, someone please get the world's smallest violin and play it. Rationally, I KNOW that.

I can't keep anything from my husband. He can sense it in me. He was so annoyed, "Honestly, I know something is wrong. I've been with you my whole life. Is it something terrible?" I sighed. "No, not really. It's just when the kids are going through something it really upsets me."
"But the kids are ALWAYS going through something," he replied.
"I know," I said softly. "That's my point. It's hard."

My husband was like, "It's not going to get any better. When they are grown up it will probably be worse." Oh, my hubby, he is a realist.

They aren't struggling with anything crazy. It's typical adolescent stuff. They will certainly be okay. I try to tell myself that, "This is normal and necessary, this is normal and necessary, this is normal and necessary....." Like a mantra. I KNOW that it is normal and necessary but that doesn't make it better or easier.

It is not my job to remove obstacles from their way. They are not going to be happy all the time. They are going to make mistakes and learn hard lessons. Some will be self imposed and some will be totally out of their control. There are some roads they will have to walk alone. I can walk next to them but I can not carry them. I will not make things harder than they need to be but I cannot fix their problems. I can only support and love them.

In so many ways, I feel like a new mother again. These years are like the newborn days reflected. The children are transitioning into this world that suddenly is strange, new and confusing. Newborns scream but teenagers cry and have random nervous breakdowns or bouts of bad attitudes and rebellious behavior. I am their safe place but I am completely unsure of myself, convinced that I am doing it all wrong, wondering how long this feeling will last....

A few weeks ago my oldest was not acting like herself. She was in a terrible mood and she told me to leave her alone. So I did. A little while later she asked why I wasn't talking to her. "You told me to leave you alone, so I was giving you some space." She was so upset. "I don't want space. I never want space!" I was confused, "But you told me to leave you alone." She sighed, "But I didn't actually mean that I wanted you to leave me alone. I need you." She teared up and I felt horrible. In case you were wondering what it's like to have a teen/tween daughter, now you know.

I don't have a close relationship with my own parents and I never recall seeking them out for comfort and so this is new territory for me. I feel completely ill-equipped and floundering, to be completely honest. I just do what I've always done in this mom gig, fake it til I make it. I always just wanted my kids to feel safe and secure and know that they are loved and so I try to focus on that and not sweat the small stuff so much.

Yes, we are all going through something right now. But life is like that sometimes. We are learning lessons. That is our job as parents, to raise up the children and teach them how to become independent. We teach them to walk, to use the toilet, to read, to dress themselves...but as the children become bigger the things they must learn are so much more complicated, so much harder to master. Things we are working on right now:

-time management skills
-dealing with difficult people
-accepting the things that we cannot change
-the importance of self care
-how to recover from a broken heart
-how to manage anxiety
-how to accept that people change
-how to be okay when it seems like everything sucks
-how to take responsibility for your actions
-how to recover from disappointments

I'm 35 years old and these are things I am STILL working on myself. I think I need to learn to accept that doing the best that I can is enough. I need to take my own advice and take things one day at a time. The things that we go through are normal and necessary. You can't have rainbows without a little rain.

What's So Amazing About Really Deep Thoughts

                            
Last night we attended my husband's company Christmas party -except it was in January so they called it a "Winter Bash." I was grateful. December is always jammed packed, so this was much better. It was a good excuse to dress up and go downtown for a free dinner.

I wound up sitting next to my husband's co-worker and his wife. They have 3 kids: an elementary aged kid, a toddler and a baby. They talked about what life is like - waking up in the middle of the night, sippy cups, changing diapers. We listened as they lamented about how expensive it is. I feel like parents of young children don't look at us like we are "real" parents anymore. We are not in the trenches. I have not wiped my kid's asses since Facebook debuted.

You WANT to tell them that it gets easier. But let's be real....it's all downhill from here. The minute parenting stops being physically exhausting it automatically flips to be emotionally exhausting. Diapers, wipes, and daycare are expensive......but that doesn't get better. Between paying for sports, instruments, cell phone plans, clothing, summer camps. It's rough. Now we really need to plan ahead because we'll have to pay for driving school this summer for my oldest and car insurance for her. There will be ACT/SAT test prep, there will be yearbooks and class rings and proms. The next 3-5 years will be pricey and then we get to help pay for college for the next 6 years after that. We have just surrendered ourselves to it at this point.

When they become fully functioning independent adults we won't even know what to do with ourselves. We're going to think we are Rockefellers.

After we talked about the children, we talked about our houses. This couch that they hate that eats everything. The HVAC unit that was installed wrong when the house was built. Flood insurance. This is adulting. You start having opinions about things like flood insurance and property taxes. You have a favorite burner and a junk drawer with rubber bands, a screwdriver, and some loose batteries. You frown when you notice the layer of dust on your baseboards.

I am a suburban mother. Through and through. I wake up in the morning and make breakfast and pack lunches. I shuttle kids to school. I carpool. I cook nutritious dinners and I bake cookies. I tend to the flowers in the hanging baskets in my porch. I kiss my husband when he gets home from work in the evening. I am completely ordinary.

I don't mind it, really, but I find it amusing. Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I didn't marry my husband.

I would have attended college in North Jersey. I would have been a little wild. I'd move to New York City and be happy there for a while. Overtime, I would grow weary of the cold weather and people that take themselves so seriously. I'd find myself in some small mountain town in North Carolina.

I'd write trash novels with a lot of mystery and a little bit of sex. I'd live in some studio apartment above a hipster coffee bar. The floors would be pine and covered with oriental rugs. The place would be bright and cheery and I'd have shelves and shelves of books. I'd have a small balcony with a worn rocking chair and wind chimes hanging. I'd wear tea dresses and sandals and have long hair that I'd wear in a bread and a tiny, silver nose ring.

I'd have a  grey cat named Scarlet who I want to be a lap cat but she just sits on the edge of the couch and just looks at me with resting bitch face. I'll have one good friend. His name is Tom. He is tall, gay and teases me for my fashion choices. I adore him. I'd exist on coffee and antidepressants. I text my family with vague promises to visit them, but I won't. I do send birthday cards to my siblings and nieces and nephews to assuage my guilt.

I take lovers. We drink wine in the evenings and they confess their love for me but I just laugh. We make love with all the lights on but I kick them out of my bed in the morning without even offering them a cup of coffee. I'd be loney but not too upset about it. I'd smile at babies in the grocery store and lament that I'd never have children of my own because I know, deep down that I would not be a good mother.

Some people will read that and think I'm just some rambling, crazy person but others will understand what I'm tying to say.

I am living the life I am supposed to be living, and it is a good life. I am grateful for it but there are little pieces of this free spirit inside of me. Living in suburbia is good for the children. It's a perfect place for families but the banality of it can wear on you sometimes. There is this sort of quiet desperation in the suburbs. Wives with monogramed tote bags and SUVs who are annoyed with their husbands for not helping enough around the house. Husbands with grills, that spend their Sundays watching football, who complain about their wives not giving it up enough. Bless us all.

I try to do things to keep myself entertained. Sometimes I'll just put on a fancy dress and dance in my living room, or say the f-word when I'm not supposed to, or try to convince my husband to park the car in some wooded area and make out with me. When the kids were young - we'd blow bubbles, walk barefoot in the grass, play in the rain, and make so many wonderful messes. It used to drive my husband crazy. He came home once to my kids covered in pudding paint. "They are just leaning and tapping into their creative side," I told him. I want to eat curry in India, and hike to waterfalls and feel the sun on my face. Being alive is so wonderful. I do try to FEEL alive, even if I'm a little weird and ridiculous in the process. I try to balance my free spirit and suburban mom side of myself and most of the time they co-exist just fine.

A few months ago, I was laying in bed with my husband and we were laughing about something. He laid his head on my shoulder and said, "I could never be married to someone logical," he said. I wasn't offended. I understood what he was trying to say. I smiled at him. "Well, thank you."

Gymnastics Girl

                                              
The gymnastic competition season is officially over for my kid! Yay! I LOVE watching my child compete but it sure can be stressful. She had a good season this year, over all. She got to stand on the podium a lot which made her happy. It has not been easy. It has been a long road.

I like to post my daughter's accomplishments and often friends and family will see pictures of her at awards, with medals around her neck and videos of her competitions. There is so much to the sport that isn't seen and isn't shared.

Gymnastics is not an easy sport. It LOOKS easy but it takes a huge amount of time and commitment. It is getting harder. She just competed her last compulsory level. Basically, in the Junior Olympic program Levels 1-5 are compulsory where ALL the gymnasts perform the same routines at all the events. Levels 6-10 are optionals where each level has certain skills the gymnast needs to master but they perform their own routines. The skills are a lot harder. College gymnasts compete consistently well at Level 10. Gymnasts beyond level 10 are Elite - these are your Olympic gymnasts.

Next year, my daughter will compete Level 7. She has all of her Level 7 skills already except for bars. Bars are her actual kryptonite - she hates them. She is really excited to compete optionals. She gets to pick her own floor music - she's going to do the Game of Thrones theme. I can't wait to watch her.

It's been interesting to watch her do gymnastics the past 5 years. You notice that as the girls go up in levels, there are fewer and fewer gymnasts. The time commitment and the skill level increases with each level - as does the risk of injury. She is in the gym 4 days a week now, for 3-4 hours and this will increase to 5 days a week at the optional level.

The skills are much harder. They do back handsprings on the beam, difficult tumbling passes, they do tucks off the beam, handstands on the bar,  giants.
                         
                                 
In a lot of ways, gymnastics is as much as a mental sport as a physical sport. The amount of mental toughness it requires and the ability to overcome fear is a HUGE part of the sport. It is scary to master some of these upper level skills - could you imagine flinging yourself backwards on a 6-inch wooden beam? No thank you. Where skills came easily before, they don't come so easily now. My daughter might need to be spotted HUNDREDS of times while learning a skill before she is able to do it on her own.

There are injuries. It's not uncommon for her to come home and ice an ankle or a knee. Many times she'll come home with bleeding, ripped open palms and I help wash them out, clip the skin and apply ointment. Sometimes she's really sore. Sometimes she is discouraged. These are the things that others do not see.

Last month, she was at practice and I got a phone call from her. She seemed totally calm, "Hey mom - I kind of had a bad fall. Can you come pick me up?"
"A bad fall? What happened?" I asked.
" Nothing, I just landed wrong on my head kind of. I'm fine," she reassured me.

Of course, I was freaked out and immediately headed over to the gym. As I was en route, my girlfriend called me and told me about it. She was there and saw it happen. She said it looked really bad and that she came down on her chest hard and then her head and neck. I ran into the gym. Ran. I needed to put my eyes and my hands on my child.

I walked into the gym and immediately exhaled when I saw her tumbling on the floor. She was okay. She half smiled when she saw me and walked over. She hugged me. "Are you okay? What hurts?" I asked. "Just my neck and chest. Really, I'm okay." I told her to go to the locker room and collect her things and her coach came over and we talked about when happened.

She came out of the locker room and we went to the car. On the way home, she cried. My child never cries. She is tough as nails and generally unemotional about things. She spoke about being discouraged about learning a new skill, that she was stressed out and tired. I did a lot of listening.
I told her, "Gymnastics is supposed to be fun. You love gymnastics, once it stops being fun, I don't want you to do it. The pressure you feel is coming from yourself. Not me and dad, not your coaches. You are 12. This is not the Olympics. You have plenty of time. If you push too hard and are stressed out, you will make mistakes and get hurt. Let's take a step back and focus on resting and feeling well."

She took 3 days off to nurse her neck. It was a little sore, so we did lots of ice and ibuprofen, then heat and massage and she felt a lot better. I texted her coaches and told them that she would only be in gym 2 times a week for the next few weeks. That I felt like taking some time was best for her physical and mental health. She has awesome coaches who were completely supportive and agreed. I love her coaches so much. She had a meet that week- but you know what? Oh well. It's not the Olympics, this is level 5 gymnastics. She went to gym twice that week. She rested, she spent time with the family, she re-charged, she iced her ankle that has been giving her trouble and she did awesome at her meet. She needed that. Then, she was back in her regular routine. The child was at the gym on New Years Eve.

I am very big on making sure she maintains some semblance of a normal life. There are not many kids who train 12-15 hours a week, year round. She does miss out on some things because she has gym but I always make sure she gets to participate in other activities and events as much as possible. She wanted to be in student council, so she is late to gym when she has meetings. If she wants to go to a dance, a birthday party, or the football game - I let her miss gym or switch days. If she has an injury or is exhausted, I pick her up early. Gymnastics is a big part of her life but it's not her WHOLE life. If she feels like she is missing out on other things, or if she becomes burned out, or if she tries to "train through" an injury - she will want to quit. I think trying to maintain some sort of balance has been vital.

I am proud of her all the time. I have sat and watched when she was first place on the podium and last place and I am proud. I remind her often that this is not a sprint, it is a marathon. You are going to be first sometimes, you are going to be last sometimes and sometimes you will be inbetween. All of those things are okay. Just do your best. I do not live vicariously through my children. Their accomplishments belong to them, their failures do too. I am here to encourage and support.

People sometimes joke to her that they want to see her in the Olympics and she laughs. She does not have Olympic aspirations. She's a little too old for that already. College is a possibility but I don't know if she will do gymnastics in college. College gymnastics is extremely difficult to get into and it can be BRUTAL. At this point in time, she says that she wants to do gymnastics through high school and then "retire" before college. I would be 100% okay with that. BUT I would hope that she maybe attends a college with a club team so that she still has the option to do gymnastics in a low-stress environment. She could even coach at a local club when she is in college which would be a great job in the evenings or Saturdays. I think she would enjoy that. It will be hard when gymnastics ends because it has been such a huge part of her life.

She has a LOT of time to figure things out and her plans might change and that's okay. I remind her of that all the time: you have options.

People think we are crazy. We have spent a lot of time and money on gymnastics. I drop her off and pick her up 4-5 days a week, we have spent a lot of time traveling and we sit for 3 hours to watch our daughter compete for 5 minutes. Gymnastics is more than a monthly car payment and during competition season, more than a luxury car payment. We sacrifice hugely. I may never see any financial benefit from it (unless she gets a scholarship, IF that is what SHE wants to pursue). I am okay with that because I still think it is money well spent. She loves gymnastics, she has made so many friends and close relationships, she has learned so many important lessons about patience, commitment, perseverance, dedication and friendship. We have so many memories of going to watch her, and the thrill of when her name comes up on the score board with a 9+, and the smile on her face when she is on the podium. Those things are priceless to us.

I am excited for her. I think her future is bright!

It's Almost Christmas Again

  
Well, here we are again. It's 3 days until Christmas and I'm ALMOST ready. I have finished my gift shopping. I'll do my big grocery trip tomorrow. Last night my husband turned to me and asked, "Are you ready to spend 2 solid days straight in the kitchen?" Hahaha. He is not even lying.

This is the second year that the kids don't believe in Santa. It makes the Christmas season different somehow. It just FEELS different. Not bad, maybe a little less stressful. We don't have to do Elf on the Shelf anymore- BLESS UP. Although, whenever Hollister Boy comes over, he moves the elf. I don't know why he does this, maybe because he never had an elf. It is a little fun to track him down, so I can now appreciate the appeal of it for young children. We still do all the Christmas-y things that we always do. The kids were excited to get their Disney Advent calendars and once a week, we light a fire and roast marshmallows and watch a holiday movie together. Last night we watched a Muppet Christmas Carol and we sang along to the songs together. Tonight we will go out to dinner and go see the lights, which is a yearly tradition.

The kids really do like doing these things. They don't roll their eyes or protest. I think it brings back some of the magic for them. It links their childhood to the present. It's so weird when the kids reminisce about the years behind them. "Mom, do you remember when I was little and.....?" or "When I was a kid...." I gives me pause because to me they are still KIDS, but the don't see themselves that way.

Christmas is expensive and the older the kids get, the more expensive it is. Don't even ask me for a damn Apple watch, or an Apple laptop, or some $300 hoverboard. Ugggggh. Both my kids have iphone Xs though, so I actually am a piece of shit.

I am usually really good and I buy a lot of stuff ahead of time and this year was no different, but we literally got pummeled this year. So going into December, I had my budget and was good to go. Then I got a phone call from my daughter's dance studio reminding me that we owed $225 for costumes for the May recital. We pay this every year in December but my daughter hasn't danced since last June so I literally just forgot. Then we had to put down $150 for summer camp. Then we found out we would have to travel for a gymnastics meet, then the battery died in my car and I had to replace that to the tune of $160.

I sat down and wrote everything out and looked it all over. I will not take any more money out of my savings account. Not after the air conditioning unit and damn cat surgery. I don't give a f*ck if we have to eat rice and beans. I generally don't stress about stuff like this. We are faithful.
                              
So I prayed on it and decided that I was going to sell all the sh*t laying around in my house. If we haven't used it in 3 years, I sold it. We had an iPhone 6, perfect condition, in it's original box, just sitting in the closet. Why?!?!? I actually purged a lot of stuff from my house. I donated and threw away a lot of stuff too. It's a good thing to do to prepare for the New Year, anyway.

I sold enough stuff to cover ALL of our "extra" expenses. 
               
I'm am literally not keeping up with the Joneses, there is no magical pot of money, there is no unlimited credit. I don't care what other people think. If you invite me out and I'm trying to pay for camp, or go to Mexico, or buy Christmas, or be stay at home mom.....I will say "no". I will never over-extend myself.

Besides getting ready for Christmas, I've been dealing with health issues. I have a cardiac issue that was diagnosed about 8 years ago. I was having bad tachycardia and passing out. I have an arrhythmia that originates from the upper chambers of my heart. At that time, I went through all kind of tests. I had a holter monitor for weeks, EKGS, echos, an MRI study of my heart....my heart beats irregularly but the structure of my heart is good. I have a leaky valve but that is not the cause of my arrhythmia. At that time, they didn't "do" anything. I just have to be careful about what I do. I have to limit my caffeine intake and I have to NEVER get dehydrated. I try not to over exert myself. I'll never run a marathon but I can do moderate exercise. If my heart beats fast or palpitates, I drink a BIG container of Gatorade or Powerade. I've done great for 8 years. Haven't had issues.

Well, last month, for whatever reason, I started to have heart palpitations out of the blue. For 2 days, I was having 60-70 a day. To a normal person, that sounds alarming but if you break it down, it's only like 3-4 an hour. I felt fine otherwise- no chest pain, no shortness of breath, no light headedness or passing out, my heart RATE is normal.

So, I took extra care to relax, drank a shit ton of Gatorade and BANA water, stopped drinking alcohol completely (I usually have 3 glasses of wine a WEEK), started an additional potassium supplement, limited my coffee fro 12 oz to 8 oz and my palpitations decreased to 10 a day, to 5 a day. I've still been having a few everyday but I have no other symptoms and I FEEL good.

I haven't seen my cardiologist since 2011 and I went for a follow up this week because even though I don't feel like I'm going to die, my heart beating irregularly for this long warrants a trip to the cardiologist. He was so funny. "Does it make you feel anxious?" he asked about my palpitations. 
I shrugged, "Not really. I have no other symptoms. I feel good. I could have just gone to the ER and they would give me fluids and potassium and stabilize me and then would tell me to follow up with my cardiologist. I've know how this works. So I just decided to give myself fluids and potassium and follow up with my cardiologist." He laughed. "That's probably true." My EKG looks good and I'm not in immediate danger. He does think that I may have had a viral infection and because I have an arrhythmia it may have presented with palpitations and that might be a life-long thing. I had some blood work done on Monday at my new primary doctor so we are going to wait to get that back before we do any other tests.

My heart is not the only thing wrong with me. My sh*t is f*cked up. I was diagnosed with RA at 23 after 7 years of consistent joint pain. I have a GI issue. I will randomly have tinnitus and nephropathy in my fingers. I have this weird ice pick headache that lasts 30 seconds and originates from my temple and shoots through my head. I have severe fatigue, sometimes muscle pain. I get hives randomly. My symptoms have come and go through the years, they vary in severity. I have been diagnosed with everything under the sun it feels like, or mostly doctors will THINK I have some issue but my tests and blood work are always normal. I don't look "sick enough" so many times I get dismissed. I have not seen a primary doctor in 6 years because really, I'm done. Either I'm told it's all in my head or they are trying to prescribe me heavy-duty medicine like Humira or Loratab. Ummmmm......no thank you.

I manage my own symptoms. If I'm having a lot of joint pain, I take ibprofen. I try to eat very clean and healthy. I drink a lot of water. I take supplements for nutritional support. I HAVE to get 8-9 hours of sleep at night. I try to pace myself and not over-do it. If I know I'm going to have a period of time where things are stressful, I clear my schedule as much as possible the following week to make sure I can re-cooperate.

With my cardiac issue acting up again, I have re-established with a new doctor. I'm at a holistic practice because I need a change. They tested for nutritional deficiencies as well as Lymes disease and co-infections associated with it. That is like, the only thing I've never been tested for. I don't go back until January 7th.

In spite of this, I have never considered myself sick. I don't. I'm consider myself well, with a few issues here and there. This is my normal. I have had joint pain every day for a long as I remember. I try not to complain and people really would never know. My husband is the only one who REALLY knows because he's seen me crawl into bed at 7:30 pm with crushing fatigue, or soaking in the bathtub because I am so sore and achy, he's retrieved ice packs, and heat pads and ibuprofen. He has picked up my slack at times when I have really not been well.

In spite of this, I have lived a very full life. I have thrived. I have done all the things I've wanted to do. I haven't let it stop me. It's certainly slowed things down but that's okay. I don't want anyone to worry about me or feel bad for me. F*CK that. I don't feel bad for myself. My life is good and I have been blessed. Hopefully, I'll get some answers soon.

Anyway, I need to go clean out my fridge and get my grocery list together because I'm about to spend 2 solid days in the kitchen. Merry Christmas to you and yours!

Coming Out

                     
                         *I have written this post with permission from my daughter*

My original intention was to post this on coming out day. That was October 11th and it is now December 12th. That's how my life goes.

My 12 year old daughter is gay. At least she says that she is and I have no reason not to believe her. We knew it may be coming for quite some time. When she was in fourth grade, she told us, "I haven't decided if I want to marry a boy or a girl when I grow up." To which I replied, "Well, you aren't getting married for quite a while so you have lots of time to figure it out."

And as time went on, things became more clear. In the middle of sixth grade, we were in the car driving to gymnastics. We were chatting and she said to me. "It's girls. I like girls." It was kind of out of the blue and not related to the conversation. "That's okay," I told her. "But, mom, do you want me to like boys instead?" she asked. I thought about what she was really asking me and I thought about how I felt deep in my heart. "The only thing I want is for you to be happy." That is 100% the truth. I was not sad, upset or disappointed. That was that. There was little fanfare about the whole thing.

In the time since, we have talked about it a lot. Gay people don't always lead easy lives. People can be unkind. I have done the best I can to prepare her for that. We talk a lot of finding people who are going to love and support her and how to be okay with who she is. The truth of the matter is, some people are going to judge you and be rude no matter what. I was a 19 year old pregnant white girl who was married to a Puerto Rican. Believe me, if I would have allowed myself to be crushed by the weight of other people's judgements, I'd be Flat Stanley by now.

It is not a secret, but I don't necessarily advertise it either. People's reactions are often, "Why didn't you tell me?" To which I reply, "I don't think it's relevant." If you ask someone about their kids they don't say, "Well, little Johnny likes baseball - he's also straight, by the way." So why should it be any different? People always have LOTS of questions and comments about it. Here are some of them:

So did you know? Were you upset?
I suspected. I wasn't upset. It changes nothing about my daughter, my relationship with my daughter, or my family at all.

Do you support this?
If by support this do you mean, do I love and support who my daughter is? Then yes. I support not being a dick. We don't fly a pride flag outside our house or think there are 64 genders but we are generally non-judgemental of people based on their race, religion and sexual orientation.

Wow, you're lucky that she would be so open with you. 
We are open people. Our kids know that we love them no matter what. We don't want our children to fear us and they can come to us for ANYTHING. As much as possible, we try not to keep secrets and be honest with one another. We are not perfect, but we strive for this.

She doesn't seem gay. 
She doesn't have short hair, or dress like a boy, or listen to Melissa Etheridge or watch Ellen. She doesn't plan to move to Vermont and convert an old barn into a house and wear flannel and overalls and run a raw milk farm. But she still could be gay.

Do you think it's a phase?
I am taking her word for it. It's how she feels at this point in time. I have chosen not to minimize her feelings. Surely some kids struggle with their sexuality and are confused about it. I do not know what will happen in the future.

What was your husbands reaction?
Honestly? He was not upset or disappointed either. It takes a lot of worries off of his shoulders. He was a teenage boy once upon a time. There is that saying, "If you have a son you only have to worry about one penis but when you have a daughter you have to worry about every penis." Well, if you have a lesbian daughter, you don't have to worry about any penises. Silver linings, people, silver linings.

Are you worried that other parents won't let their kids hang out with your daughter?
Kind of. I think there are some parents that think there is such a thing as gay contagion. If there are parents that wouldn't want their child to be around mine for that reason, than that is too bad for their child. Because my daughter is kind, funny, incredibly smart, creative, talented, loyal, all around amazing person, and a good friend. She is like every other 12 year old girl. She just happens to like girls. That doesn't define her.

This parenting gig is not easy. We all have dreams and wishes for who we want our children to be and how we hope that their lives will turn out. Our children have their own dreams, their own wishes and their own lives. I try to remember that. I am here to teach them, to keep them safe, to love them, to help them grow into functioning adults. I want them to love themselves and be okay with WHO THEY ARE.

One day, I hope my daughter finds someone who loves her and treats her good. If that happens to be a woman, I will throw them a big-ass wedding and I will put two brides on the top of the cake. They might adopt some babies from China and I will buy those babies seersucker outfits and books and stuffed animals and I'll post pictures on Facebook and I will be HAPPY AS A CLAM. If other people don't like it? I will give exactly zero f*cks.

It's been a little bit of an adventure. She had a girlfriend for a little while. I think they got together because they are the only girls that like girls. hahaha.

I know I'm getting judged over here. Like, who lets their 7th grader have a girlfriend/boyfriend? Fun story. I had lunch with my daughter on Friday. I sat with her and her friends. The girl who sat across from me who I've known since she was in the 2nd grade, was the sweetest little thing. Now she is taller than me and was wearing mascara and lip gloss. She told me about her boyfriend. "I'm not allowed to date but I don't care. My parents don't have to know." I don't know this child's parents. Which is surprising, because I know a lot of parents. I looked at her and said, "What happened to you child?" To which she replied, " A LOT." The boy next to me piped in, "Yeah! School and puberty!" I was straight up like:
                     
                                     These 7th graders really be out here.

 So anyway, yes, my daughter had a girlfriend that I knew about. She would come over on Wednesdays after school. I'd get them slushies and we'd have family dinners and they'd sit on the couch and watch TV. Sometimes we'd go out somewhere together. It was fine. Unless they were holding hands. Then, I would be freaked out.

In my defense, I also get freaked out when my oldest and Hollister boy hold hands. I hate it.
                                
                                     Stop putting your fingers between each other's fingers. 

Holding hands is a gateway drug. One day you are holding hands, then before you know it you have your tongues in each other's mouth, and then next thing you know you are in the backseat of a station wagon on some remote part of Route 49 and it's already 5 minutes past your curfew and now your going to be grounded for 2 weeks but it's kind of worth it but low-key not and you are wondering how you even got here in the first place.....HOLDING HANDS. That's how. Anyway, I'm just projecting now. Also, that is a completely hypothetical situation that I would know absolutely nothing about.

Seriously though, do you know how nerve wracking it is once your kids mature? It's like sending them out into the world every day with a loaded gun. "Can you put that thing in a safe? Because if you play with it and it accidentally goes off - it's going to ruin all of our lives."  
                        

Bless the boys. Some of them are just off the chain at this age. Do you think the fact that my daughter is publicly gay has stopped the boys? No. No it hasn't. She came home a few weeks ago and was like, "Oh my God! Mom, my friend said that one of her guy friends wants me to have his babies." SEVENTH GRADE PEOPLE!!!! What is wrong with the kids these days? When I was in 7th grade, boys would flash condoms at you but they never wanted to trap you with a baby. What the hell?!?!?!

This other boy, bless him, just loves her and he has been trying so hard. "I finally just had a heart to heart with him and gave it to him straight. I said, 'You can't like me. It's never going to happen. You have to find a girl that likes boys." hahaha. The struggle is actually real.

The years ahead of us should be interesting. I am happy though. I am proud of my daughters and love them NO MATTER WHAT. That is my coming out.