Blessings

I am not over exaggerating when I say this has been the hardest year of my life. To be quite frank when I was a little girl dreaming about what life as a grown woman would be like I never saw myself where I am today. Where am I today? Today I feel broken and alone. I feel like I'm holding on by a thread of hope and I'm afraid that at any moment it might snap. I'm trying my hardest to get myself out of this funk. So, here I am about to count my blessings, because I know that things could be worse...way worse.
I'd like to start off my list with my children. All three of them are simply amazing: Ryan- My oldest. The baby that scared me out of my mind. I had to learn everything about raising a baby with him. He was absolutely perfect and he still is. He is healthy, hilarious, strong willed, handsome...just perfect. He's the kid that makes me burst out laughing multiple times a day. He is also the kid that sends me to my knees in prayer, so that I don't kill him...lol! He's probably the most like me personality wise, but he looks just like his daddy...so handsome! I love my little man.
Mason- My middle child. They say the middle child is forgotten, but Mase won't let me forget him. He follows me everywhere!! I think the doctors may have forgotten to clip his cord at birth...lol! That boy loves his momma! He is quieter than Ryan, but he knows how to get his point across. He loves to cuddle and if I wanted to he'd let me carry him around all day long. He's happiest when he's by my side. And, last night he said "I love you" to me for the very first time. How can it get better than that?
Eva- My third and possibly last child. My first little girl:-) I can not get over how amazing she is. She is so small and beautiful. She sleeps best if she's cuddled up to mommy or daddy. She has the prettiest little smile (I don't care if it is "just gas" at this point, it's gorgeous!)And, when she looks up at me with her sweet little face I know that there isn't a thing in this world that I wouldn't do for her.
I love my babies. When I feel like lying down and giving up I look over at my angels and realize that they are my life. They are worth whatever I have to go through. They are reason enough for me to not just exist, but to actually live my life to the fullest. To find joy in "the small things" and realize that maybe they're not so small after all. Maybe that's what life is all about.

And, the worst mother of the year award goes to....

  Every time I get frustrated or down right mad at one of my kids and lose my temper I hate myself. The sound of my raised voice or the feeling on my hand after I swat one of their butts makes me cringe. I feel like the worst mother alive, the scum of the earth. Since, this happens at least once a day I always feel bad. Today was no exception.
  I woke up thinking to myself "This is gonna be a great day! I'm gonna be a great mom and make my kids a decent breakfast and take them to the library." I hopped out of bed and walked down stairs to find Mason sitting on the kitchen floor playing in a raw egg that he had somehow managed to get out of the fridge and smash on the floor. I shook my head, grabbed my boy, cleaned him off, and then cleaned the floor. Nothing was gonna ruin my mood or my day! I was determined!!....or so I thought.
  Fast forward a couple of hours to the library. We had only been there for about twenty minutes when my three year old, Ryan, had a major melt down, due to the fact that he couldn't find a train he wanted. I told him, nicely, multiple times to cut the crap or we were leaving. He obviously did not take me seriously and proceeded to start jumping and screaming....in a library!! I could sense the eyes of everybody else in the library on me as I scooped up Mason and proceeded to the check out line with Ryan in tow screaming bloody murder. I could feel my blood pressure rising with each ear splitting scream. Common sense told me to leave the movies and books behind and just leave as fast as I could, but my stubborn streak propelled me forward to the check out line, screaming child and all. I am pretty sure that everyone hated me as much as I hated me. As, the librarian checked out my books Ryan started screaming that I was not his mommy. Sheer humiliation filled me and I bent down, grabbed his face and told him to be quiet or he'd be getting spanked. At this point I was sure somebody had reached into their pocket, picked up their cell phone and dialed CPS....at the very least they probably wanted to. I could feel the tears start to fill my eyes as I walked out of the library. A little old lady stopped me to tell me that every parent has gone through this and not to worry about it. Bless her dear heart. If only she knew what I wanted to do to the screaming demon that took over my little boy. I smiled at her and bent my head down, because those  tears were gonna come at any moment. I got the kids in the car and sent out a text to my husband. Ryan, at this point, had not calmed down in the least. His screams had made Mason start to cry and those tears I had been trying so hard to hold back finally made it out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I was humiliated, exhausted and extremely angry with both myself and my son. I am ashamed to say that the text I sent out was to tell my husband that I hated our child. Yes, I actually said that I hated him. Luckily it was not to him, but still what was I thinking??! Who hates a three year old? Especially your own kid? I was a mess. And, the response I got did nothing to help. I took it as a "This is your own fault, because you stand in the way of me doing my job" response and, so I lashed out and sent out a nasty text to my husband. Jeez! I was on a roll. Now, I own two awards. Worst mother and worst wife. But, wait it gets worse. On my way out of the parking lot I realize that Ryan has left his sun glasses in the library and he's screaming about those now, so I pull back in and run into the library to look for them. Yep, I left my crying kids in the car. I get the glasses and as I'm leaving the librarians are all telling me how calm I am and how well I handled the situation. Apparently they think I'm some sort of angel mother. This makes me feel worse. They have no clue that I want to beat my child or that I just admitted to hating him to my husband. I get out of there as fast as I can. I feel so ashamed that I head over to McDonalds to buy Happy Meals and let the kids run around in the Play Place. Really?!! Since, when do parents reward their children for horrific behavior? Ever since I gave birth.
  Ryan is now completely calm and happy as a clam. He's playing nicely with all of the other children and telling me how happy he is and saying "Look, Mom, I'm not crying anymore. I'm a good boy are you proud?" I am thinking to myself 'Well, at least, we have established that I am indeed your mother', but instead of being sarcastic to a three year old I just nod and smile. He is happy. He won't remember the day he made his mother cry. He'll grow up just fine, so why ruin it? The only person who seems to be negatively effected by all of this is me. Why do I let things get so out of control? How can I be better? As, I'm asking myself these questions I realize that it's not Ryan's fault. He's three. He is learning how to act and react. His meltdowns and temper tantrums are all a part of growing up. They are his learning experiences. It's not my job to make him act like he's thirty when he's three, it's my job to help him learn a different way to vent his frustrations. Leaving the library was a good idea. He needs to know that there will always be consequences for your actions. You scream in a library then you will have to leave the library. Period. No amount of begging or screaming will change that. In my opinion (now), McDonalds was also a good choice. Once he calmed down and realized that there was no going back to the library the lesson was learned. I don't have to keep punishing him all day for the thing he did wrong in that moment.
  It's also not my husbands fault that I cried. He gave me an honest answer. That's what I'm always asking for, right? Honesty. It means more to me than sparing my feelings and stroking my "mommy ego". If you're not gonna be honest then good bye. Don't let the door hit you in the butt on your way out. I can't stand liars. This situation doesn't call for any less honesty than any other one. So, thank you, to him for opening my eyes to that.
  Everyday I learn something new and today I learned to give myself a little break. If I am always hating on myself or thinking how useless I am it's no wonder a small part of my child's growing up can make me cry. If I am gonna blame myself for the bad then I also need to take credit for the good...or at least partial credit. My kids are healthy, they are happy most of the time, they always want to be near me, they are comfortable in their own skin, they know exactly what they want and aren't easily swayed, they are great little teachers (you know teaching me patience, how to laugh at poop on the floor, and how to be a mommy) and best of all they love me and I love them.

*For Eva*

  I was reading up on my pregnancy the other day. I love reading about how big my baby girl is growing each week. She started out as a tiny poppy seed and now, at 35 weeks, weighs as much as a honeydew! It's intriguing to me how quickly babies and small children develop. One minute they can't even hold up their own heads and then a year later they are walking and talking. Their ability to learn and to grow is amazing! And, even though this is my third baby I am still in a constant state of amazement of the little and brilliant life growing inside of me. Eva Grace Wolff, I have loved you since the moment that I saw that positive pregnancy test and I will never stop.
  Anyways, one of things that my baby newsletter suggested was that I write down a pregnancy memory and I thought what a good idea that was. There have been many. So, here goes, Eva. These are some memories that we made together before you were even born.

Dec 13, 2010- This is the day that I found out that I was expecting my third baby. I was pretty excited. Daddy and I had just finished Christmas shopping for your brothers. I texted a friend and asked her to pray that everything would go okay.

March 26, 2011- This is the first day that somebody recognized that I was actually pregnant and not just fat...HAHAHA!!! Daddy and I were on a cruise, trying to take advantage of some alone time together before another baby arrived. The guy that took care of us and cleaned our room congratulated me and seemed really happy for me. His wife was also pregnant with a baby girl and he was very excited to become a daddy. That is one of my best memories about our vacation.

April 8, 2011- This is the day that the doctors told me that I was getting my wish and having a girl. I was so thrilled. I almost couldn't believe it. I went out with a friend after my appointment and bought you some pretty dresses.

April 10, 2011- This is the first day that I was terrified of having a girl. I was so worried that I might not be able to protect you from all of the evil in this world. I never want you to be heartbroken or taken advantage of. I never want you to feel the awful pain of rejection or to know the feeling of worthlessness. I always want you to feel safe, happy, secure and, above all else, loved. I made up my mind to tell you every day how beautiful, extraordinary and special you are.

July 19, 2011- Your brother, Ryan, wanted to feel you move, so I put his hand on my belly and you gave him a good hard kick and started to move all over the place. He was not very happy that you kicked him and told me he didn't want a baby Eva...HAHA! But, I know that he will love you and be an awesome big brother.

  These are some of my memories, baby girl. I can't wait to make a whole life time more of them with you. Love, Momma.

Change Is Inevitable...so, deal with it ;-)

  I sat down to write a blog simply because I need to de-stress and relax, but I know that if I try to read a book or watch a movie then I will undoubtedly pass out and I'm not quite ready to do that just yet. It's only 9:17pm here and the kiddies still need their teeth brushed, diapers/pull-ups changed and their bedtime story before I can actually call it a night. I feel like such an old lady. Am I seriously ready for bed at nine at night?! What happened to the fun, exciting, spontaneous, loud, obnoxious, young girl that I used to be and who is this boring old bat that has taken over? Okay, maybe I still have loud and obnoxious down, but I miss the rest of me.
  I can tell you what happened. Kids happened. Do I regret having my children? Absolutely not. Do I miss who I was before children? EVERY SINGLE DAY!!!
  It really bugs me when people try to make you feel bad about changing. As if you did it to purposely piss them off. Like, when your single friends get all annoyed that you actually want to spend time with the person you CHOSE to marry and they say stuff like "You promised you wouldn't change" or "You better not ignore us, now that your married. We were friends before he came along". First of all, I never made that promise. I'm not stupid and I realized that no matter who entered my life first my husband would always be number one. It also tends to get on my nerves when friends who don't yet have kids refuse to even try to understand that going out for you now takes some serious planning. No, I'm not trying to be rude when I turn down your offer to leave my house in 5 minutes to meet you at the store. I simply need time to find a babysitter, feed the kids dinner and possibly even shower (because that happens when I can fit it in now that I have kids, not first thing in the morning:-/). And, of course the age old argument that "Just because you have kids doesn't mean that you have to change." Um, let me just say that yes, yes it does. That is, in fact, exactly what it means. Do people not understand that as soon as a ring goes on your finger or as soon as conception takes place you have already begun the changing process? Getting married is change. Having a baby is change. Change is inevitable.
  Change doesn't have to be a bad thing. I, for one, love being married and I also love being a mother. To me change is not something to be feared, but to be embraced. I get to be creative and come up with different ways to have fun with it. For instance, when you are married you get to hang out with other couples, make some new friends, do different things and act completely surprised when your hubby shows up for girls night out;-) And, when you become a mother the simplest things in life like taking a ten minute shower, having your mom watch the baby, so you can eat dinner without him/her on your lap, reading more than a page of a good book at a time or getting a full eight hours of sleep become luxuries to you and you appreciate life just a little more then you did when you were childless and spoiled.
  Plus, there is no better feeling than little Mason crawling up on my lap just to give me a smooch before he crawls back down to go play with his toys (strewn across the entire house). There is no better sound than my mini me, Ryan, laughing his head off at a poop joke or begging me not to sweep up the ants (oops! That's where that piece of jelly toast landed) because they are really cool and they're his friends. There is no better reward than when my husband comes up behind me and rubs my shoulders and back after a long day, because he appreciates everything I've done.
  So, having written all of that let me just finish by saying that number one, I live for girls night out!.... and date nights with my lover. Number two, I wouldn't trade my kids in for all the spontaneity and energy in the world. And, number three, maybe when I'm in my forties and my children are grown I can revisit the young girl I used to be and go have fun with her, but for right now I am content to be this tired, sometimes frazzled, but usually happy version of me.
 

Politically Incorrect!

Hmmm...oh boy! Where do I even begin? I guess I should start out by saying that I am one of the most politically incorrect people I know. It's not that I try to be rude or hateful or that I want people to dislike me or cringe when they see me coming, it's just that I don't see the point in sugar coating the truth. I don't care if you're red, yellow, black or white. I don't care if you're fat or skinny. I simply use those adjectives to describe people, because it's easier than saying "The young woman behind that older man", especially if you're standing in a crowded room and there are a bunch of young and old people mingled together. Having said that let me now say this maybe I should start being more aware of what I say, since I have two young boys, one of which repeats absolutely everything...even things I don't remember ever saying.
I might have come to this revelation the day my son tried having a conversation with a "darker skinned" child that lives down the street. It went something like this:

Ryan: Hey, little black boy want to play?
Jeffery: What?!
Me: (completely mortified) Ryan, his name is Jeffery.
Ryan: (getting an inch from Jeffery's face and staring into his eyes) Hey, Jeffery what color is your skin?
Me: (jumping out of my seat) OKAY...who wants to blow bubbles?

Now, the thing here to remember is that Ryan is only three and super curious and alert. He picks up on every difference and similarity and asks a billion questions. He was not being mean at all, he was just wondering what made him and his friend different colors. So, how do you go about explaining that blurting that stuff out is rude without making it seem like one is better than the other? Here is another example. Maybe, you'll understand more of what I'm getting at.

Ryan: Hey, dad, Victor the Great is my black friend.
Brad: Ryan, don't say he's your black friend, just say he's your friend.
Ryan: Why? Is it bad to say black?
I enter the room.
Ryan: Hey, mom, Victor is peach!
Me: (looking at Brad) Great! Now we've taught him that being white is good and being black is bad:-/

So, now do you understand why I am a little leary about trying to teach my son that noticing differences is not okay?? Don't get me wrong if he were to ever make fun of the differences I'd be all over that with discipline. He is definitely no angel, like when my mother came over for dinner and he called her a "Whore-Goose"...I can promise you I have never ever said that and he was disciplined on the spot!...or the time when he announced to everyone that "Nana wasn't beautiful" (Nana is my very sensitive MIL, thank God she wasn't there to hear that one!). But, he isn't a little demon, either. He is just a little boy learning the ways of this crazy, confusing and hypocritical world. Hopefully, I can help him navigate it, while keeping him from getting shot or ending up in jail.
So, here's to all the politically incorrect people out there trying to make their way in this ever confusing "politically correct" world.

The End Of Sorts...

  As many of you probably know, or have assumed from reading my previous blogs, my marriage hit a rough patch. If I were to be completely honest with myself and with all of you I'd have to say that trouble in paradise had been brewing for a while, but everything came to a head about a month ago. I would really rather not go into detail. Some wounds just need to stay closed, so that the healing process can be completed. The wounds I have are some of those. I prefer them not to keep being re-opened by having to keep re-telling "the story". I have already gone over every minute detail, rehashed every moment leading up to one of the worst moments in my history, and cried myself dry. While all of that was a part of my healing process I am done now. I am finally ready to move forward without looking back.
  This next part is for all of the important people in my life. Whether you know all of the details or not I really appreciate your support. Many of you have been there for me in my darkest moments and you will never know how much that has meant to me. Just know that I would not have pulled through this without you.
  There is, however, one thing that I need to make very clear. If you are truly in support of me then you are in support of everything that I want and I do want my marriage and my husband. He still is and always will be the man of my dreams. I realize that everyone has their own opinions. Many of you may not be able to understand that, but it is MY choice and not yours, so I ask that you, at the very least, respect that.
  You don't need to feel obligated to choose sides. There is no Team Brad or Team Rachel, there is only a Team Us and I wouldn't have it any other way.
  This ends the blogs about this particular area in my life, so you can all breathe a sigh of relief now. I am on to much more boring and funnier/lighthearted topics. Thank you for bearing with me and reading along in my not so happy or uplifting recounts of a life I am truly thankful to be living.

Then and now...

So, my blog has unfortunately become less funny and more serious and personal. I will eventually get it back to being slightly funny and probably "grotesque", as someone once put it, but for right now it is what it is and I hope you'll bare with me.
As, I began unpacking some boxes I came across a poem I wrote a little more than five years ago. That was the result of a conversation I'd had with my husband when he first expressed his thoughts about what I believed; what I thought we both believed.
Reading through it today has reminded me that my faith has never wavered and that no matter what may come I will always have that.
It's not well written or even profound, but that's me. Simple and real, not eloquent or put on.
So, here it is.

What do you believe in exactly?
You say you believe in me.
Please don't, I'm not anything.
You say you won't follow blindly.
So, then what is it that you're doing?

Is understanding truly everything?
What about instant peace?
Is that so hard to believe?
And, what about all of our mistakes?
Do you not believe in his grace?

You ask me if your love is enough,
but wonder if it's not?
I ask you if HIS love is enough
And you tell me that it's not.

I listen almost speechless.
Definitely scared.
Am I supposed to pretend that I don't care?
I do.
But you're telling me in confidence
So my questions will remain unanswered
Because I'm not allowed to ask.

I Try to be the strong one.
I don't want you to see my fear.
I don't want you to doubt that I believe HE'S here.

So, I hide my tears in the dark of the room.
And, I struggle not to cry.
I am hoping you don't notice that my calm voice is a lie.

I am reminding myself to breath
It only gets harder as you continue pouring out your heart to me.

I must be strong.
I cannot be weak.
This is me.

But, maybe you're not the only one, who has been hiding how you really feel.
Could it be that I too have secrets that this strength is not real?

Maybe, I'm just a little bit sick of being "brave".
Too tired to lead you the rest of the way.

I need you to know that yes, I am weak.
I am not the rock I want to be.
There are things that shake my faith.
I rely on others for my strength.
I do cry when I get hurt.
I need help getting back up.
Though, it's self perseverance I've tried to show, I cannot do it on my own.

I want you to know that I've chosen the path I will follow.
With or without you.
That things do shake my faith, but they will never break my faith.
That while I may need help getting back up, I will never give up.

I don't have the answer to every question.
I don't think anybody does.
Some things we must figure out on our own, but we are never alone.

Finally, no matter what you believe in or what you don't.
No matter what path you choose to go.
No matter how long it takes you to find the truth.
No matter what it takes until you do.
I will be here when you need me.
I will pray with you and for you.
I will never give up and leave.
I will always love you.


This ends the poem. Funny how something written a few months after we said "I do" still pertains today.