{insert nonsensical title - much like this post}

I have come back to this place, thought of this place - for months. I have logged in and started this post more times than I can count, but never wrote a word. I have looked in trying to figure out where to start. Do I start at all? Do I backtrack? Do I explain where I have been? Can I? Nothing too dramatic, yet possibly more dramatic than you imagine. It's a little bit of everything and nothing specific at all.

I'm not trying to be all wordy about where I've been. I honestly don't know what to say, how to say it or if I should anything at all.

This is the longest I've gone without writing, since I started writing here.  I feel lost.  There are all kinds of ways to share online, but it's in tidbits. 140 characters. Images that only capture a moment. Answering the question: what are you up to?  And frankly it can't possibly show the full picture, but neither can this space. The last few months have me rethinking what I post.  It is just small views into our world. I feel like I am painting a picture that wasn't really true to the whole picture. The small moments don't show it all. And lately it has felt fraudulent. I try to be real and not just share the rainbows. {I am well aware of how ridiculously cheesy this sounds - but it's the truth.} But I can't possibly share all the dark clouds. The tantrums are one thing, but there is so much more I can't possibly put a filter on.

This space provided a little more latitude to be a little more real, but never quite everything. Over the course of the last 6 months I don't know that I felt like I could be real at any level. I haven't really felt all that real. It all started to snowball.

Maybe I'm on an upswing.  There will always be things I protect and can't be transparent on. But maybe things are coming into a space where I can start to use my words a bit more. I've missed it. I need it. I'm going to quit the excuses and just start. I won't make any promises, but I'll acknowledge no matter what the reasons of not being here - I've missed it and go from there.

Show me how big your brave is

Step 1, press play:



Step 2: Try not cry.*

*Ok fine, I get it - it's probably just me. But I cry almost every time I sing (scream) this song. It isn't waterfall city, just welling up - damn this hurts. Or does it feel good. Or does it hurt? I don't know. But damn.

I try to think about what I want for my girls. I can't ever seem to put it into a word. I have many words, but never just one word.

The story behind the music: one day I heard Sara Bareilles was putting out a new album (CD, iTunes download - whatever).  and there is a release of the song - with the lyrics. Truth: I am excited because she's a favorite of mine. Bonus: I feel like we'd totally be friends, if I could make a damn friend. Home girl can sing a song riddled with truth (and curses) and it's lovely. Her songs make me happy and when they are sad, I feel it. When she isn't dropping F bombs there are songs that my kid can enjoy & I don't want to poke my ear out. Wins all around. So I look it up, and I press play.

And I can't. I can't stop. I can't stop listening to it. I can't stop crying. The good, cleansing cry. The kind that is not quite sad, but not quite happy. But also the kind that hurts, because I realize it's a song - while likely intended to be a civil rights anthem of sorts - it's my song to my girls. I want to see them be brave.

I'll be damned. Everything I want for my little humans - wrapped in a catchy tune that just makes you want to move. Dance. Like no one is looking. And we do - we dance like no one is watching. Singing like no one can hear us.  The kid & I haven't stopped singing the song. We scream at the top of our lungs - windows down - fake microphones and circle school until we get the song in.


I fear for what is ahead for them. Beyond the chaos of the unexpected tragedy, that has proven to be the possible - in an impossible way. Beyond the disappointments they might experience and heart break. You want to protect them -but a big part of me wants them to push past it all and come out on top. Be the kind of kid who is someone's hero. And if they are in the position where they need a hero, they need someone to be there for them in a darkness - I want need them to have that. Be bigger than they think they can be. Be more. Life is going to be hard. And I want them to speak up. I want to see how big their brave is. 

All of this is to say, I hear this song and I think - this is it. What I want need for my babies. I want them to have the strength  - because lord knows I don't know how I will. I'm paralyzed with fear for what lies ahead of them.  In talking to some friends, seasoned moms, of how I was feeling this little piece of advice has stayed with me: you make sure they know that they are loved completely and unconditionally. And then I hope the rest will work out. 

I hope they do- know that I love them. With everything. And when the times comes they will have that behind them. To be amazing.


Brave - Sara Bareilles
You can be amazing
You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug
You can be the outcast
Or be the backlash of somebody’s lack of love
Or you can start speaking up
Nothing’s gonna hurt you the way that words do
And they settle ‘neath your skin
Kept on the inside and no sunlight
Sometimes a shadow wins
But I wonder what would happen if you

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

Everybody’s been there, everybody’s been stared down
By the enemy
Fallen for the fear and done some disappearing
Bow down to the mighty
Don’t run, stop holding your tongue
Maybe there’s a way out of the cage where you live
Maybe one of these days you can let the light in
Show me how big your brave is

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

Innocence, your history of silence
Won’t do you any good
Did you think it would?
Let your words be anything but empty
Why don’t you tell them the truth?

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you 

The Moment

The night we told L we were moving was a major moment for me. I didn't know it would be, until it was happening.

The ball&chain got the official word Friday night (Edited to note: a week or so before posting this). The kid likes to plan, and we like to have her be apart of the plan, so we told her hours after finding out. Knowing this was a possibility for the last few weeks, even if only a small possibility, we'd begun to talk about the inevitable move. If not for this situation we'd be moving on in a year or so. While I consider her the smartest damn 4 year old I know, she is 4. If she were older, she probably would have picked up on my (not so) subtle hints that something was brewing. Every once in awhile I would weave into conversation the topic of moving. The topic and conversation would be benign and would normally go a little like this.

Me: "L, what do you think? We will move someday - this isn't our forever home. It might be in a few months, maybe 6, maybe a year, maybe more. What do you think?"
Her: "I hope we move to San Diego."

Alas kid, San Diego is not in the cards, but at least I got her thinking about it.

The night we told her was this weird moment in time I don't know that I expected. As we told her about the exciting news, we were all smiles. We told her about Daddy's new job, that there would be less traveling, that we'd be moving like we did last time.  We told her about Cleveland and all the fun things to do. We told her that she'd help us look for a new house, that this time she would come with us to find our next home. She took it all in, all smiles. Then there was this moment, where I may or may not have been near tears. It all flashed in front of me. I realized that this is it. For real. And it was going to happen fast. Even though I have been mentally preparing that it was likely to happen, it now very was real. I started to think more about the first time we did this. And how hard it was for her. This was going to be worse. My little girl would obviously survive, but this wasn't going to be all smiles for her.

I am near tears, and it's at this moment, this weird moment in time I realize I've stopped looking so excited and she is staring me down. Trying to figure me out. Trying to figure out how she is supposed to feel; how is she supposed to react.

I identify being a mother probably more so than I identify with any role I have in life - but how weird is this: at that very moment in time I felt like a mother so clearly it was as if I never felt like a mom, parent, protector - ever. This little person, looking to me. Depending on me, on us.

Have I mentioned, I'm not going to survive these kids?

I'm going to do my best to smile my way through this hott mess of a situation, because she's watching. She's looking to us on what steps to take and I'd like them to be the easiest steps.

In related news: this parenting thing is freaking hard.

Ending 2011 with the WORST Idea Ever

Alternative title: "This one time, when I begged for Tonya Harding to put me out of my misery..."

New Years Eve I thought I planned the cutest day, ever. We picked up lunch at a local sandwich shop which ROCKS the house. Fresh ingredients, delicious combinations: Fozzie's Sandwich Emporium, you complete me. It was a gorgeous day so we thought we would go to the park and have a little bit of a picnic before we headed to an outside ice skating rink. Can you handle the cuteness?

Then we accidentally sat in a wind tunnel.

After we scarfed down our delicious sandwiches (mostly because we needed to keep them from flying away) and chased freshly cut and made potato chips - it was off to go ice skating.

Nothing wrong with going skating with a 4 year old and an infant. No red flags there. No red flags thrown considering the ball & chain and I are what you would call allergic to athletics. Neither of us are graceful. Neither of us really know how to skate. So yeah, let's go do this thing, nothing is going to go wrong.

For the record? L LOVED "skating." That said, I'm not entirely sure she ever actually SKATED. She got on that ice quick and held on to the side, as I would. The thing is, whenever she let go of the side, she would start to flail like a flapper dancer and wipe-out, hard. NEVER crying. The alternative to this fish flailing on a line was a fun routine of her grabbing a hold of me.  Keep in mind, I'm not a skilled at anything athletic so I was barely standing upright as it was. At one point she almost managed to pull my holiday-too tight jeans down. That's a serious grasp.  She insisted on letting go of the wall every time she got her balance.  She refused to accept any help from me or anyone on the sidelines trying to give her with some instruction on how to stay upright. Stubborn does not begin to describe the scene. By minute 30, at which point we weren't yet way around the little rink, I started to hope that she WOULD fall hard enough to cry. Not hard enough to hurt herself (seriously), but enough that they would let us OUT of the little ring of hell.  Once you got going, the only way "out" was to go around. So yes, I may have welcomed a little bit of a scene. 

At one point, I could be heard saying, "We are never going to make it around alive."

Spoiler alert: We did (barely).

She loved it and when we (finally) got around, it was my lovely (sitting the whole time) husband's turn to go with her. He was with JJ who was blissfully asleep. The plan was to switch out. To put it lightly: He owes me.

L was sopping wet from all of her spills and I was fairly sure her legs were purple from all of her "skating."  I was afraid if they went - JJ & I would have to sacrifice them and leave without them, eventually. Plus, seriously, I needed to save my husband. He says he would have been fine but I seriously doubt it.  The role of mean mommy was played by yours truly and I said it was time to go. Of course THAT'S when she started to cry. To say this was my worst idea of 2011 is to put it lightly.

But OH how she LOVED it. Skating lessons will need to commence, but this girl? Me? I will NOT be skating anytime soon ever.

Scarring Children & Finding My Way

What you need to know: 

• I get lost. I get lost anywhere. Everywhere. Any how. I get lost. Some say that I get lost from the bathroom to my bedroom - and those people? They would be right. Sometimes I turn the wrong way.
• My kid asks a lot of questions. Like your head explodes a lot of questions.  
• We are committed to speaking the truth with the kids as much as possible. It isn't always pretty - but we are committed to be real.

The story at hand: on our way home from a play date the other day this happened. Word for (pretty much) word. Out of nowhere.

L: "How did you get the baby out?"
Me: "You mean JJ? Well..." {silently thinking - where is this going, how do I get out of it, what do I do? You need to STALL.}

L: "When you had the baby. When JJ got here. HOW did she get out of your belly? HOW did the baby get out?"
Me: "Well..."{silently thinking - where is this going, how do I get out of it, what do I do?}

L: "You know! How did JJ get OUT of your BELLY?! HOW?"

Me: "Well... {Feeling pressured.  Frankly at this point I'm feeling like perhaps the whole parenting principle of that pesky "honest" approach isn't the way to go. I'm thinking child birth would encompass what I SHOULD be truthful about? So off I go...} so, remember when Mama had that booboo? Well {SHIT I'm doing this thing.... nope. I'm not.} I had a surgery and the baby was born!"

{Please let that be good enough. PLEASE.}

L: "What is surgery?"
Me: {F}

L: "Mama, WHAT is SURGERY?"

Me: "Ok, so the doctors gave me medicine and they took the baby out."
L: "How?"

Me: "I don't know, L, they took the baby." {LIE, you are lying to your child.}

L: "Where did they take the baby? How did they get the baby out?"

Me: "I had surgery."
L: "What is surgery?"

Me: "It's when the doctor uses something like a knife to make a cut to get the baby out."
L: "A KNIFE?!"
Me: {crap} "Well, not a real knife - that we use to cut things - but a doctor's special knife for surgery."
L: "Did you feel the knife?"
Me: "No. The doctor's gave me medicine so I didn't feel anything. And L, it's not the same kind of knife that you know."

{Please let that be good enough. PLEASE.}

L: "So the baby was cut out of you?" 

Me: {Inner monologue: well, when you put it like that I have sufficiently f'd you up. Honesty, you are a son of a bitch. Silver lining? We're done here.} "Yup."

L: "But how did the baby get there? In your belly? Before the doctor had the surgery in you."

Me: "Um." 

{head explodes}

L: "Mama, how did the baby get into your belly?"

Me: "L. Um. I'm lost I need to pay attention to where I'm going, OK?"

I totally punked out. Good news? She's 4 so I'm sure I can find somewhere on this here Internet it's too soon. Also? Since I get lost pretty much everyday she is none the wiser that I wasn't actually lost.