State of Shock 

How do I even begin to capture what had been churning over and over in my mind ? 

Fear. Pain. Indignation. Heartbreak. Overwhelming panic. Acceptance. Anger. 

I’m angry. So angry. I feel betrayed by everyone I know that voted for this imbodyment of hatred and greed. I feel fear for my fellow countrymen. I feel inadequate to protect them from the evils that are breeding and spreading like a deadly virus. We shall fall to this home grown terrorism if we do it stand together and face it down. How do we out maneuver fear, loathing, misunderstanding, entitlement, greed, and misunderstanding ? 

We organize. We call on each other and we gather together in the name of love, and we face down each and every threat that tries to take hold in our society. It doesn’t matter where you live, you will see this evil tear it’s ugly head and it is imperative that we face it down and stamp it out. How ? 

With kindness. We literally “kill it with kindness”. We escort strangers to safe places when they are being attacked. We hold hands with our peers and march in protests agains greed and evil. We do random acts of kindness. We call out hate when we see it. We stop being silent and we start voicing our support for those that are marginalized and those that are without human rights. We make this world a better place one minute, one day, one person at a time. One person cannot change the world, but you can change the world for one person. And that we must all do. 

Spread love, not hate. In any way you can. ❤️

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As The Lone Wind Blows

I hear you rustling through the trees near my window. I hear you bending the branches, tickling the leaves, and whispering secrets to the creatures that rest there.

 I feel you as you wrap around me. Chilling my pale porcelain skin, creating goosebumps as you tease my senses with whispers of the places you have been. I smell the faintest remainder of Summer’s warmth lingering on you like the perfume of a lover soon gone. 

You tousle my hair and make it dance, glistening in the weak rays of the sun as it glides over my shoulders and down my back. You kiss my face and steal the words from my lips as they leave my chest. 

There is a crispness to you now. As if you are in a hurry to get wherever you are headed. No longer can you be lazy and linger with me to play and dance like a child. Now you must rush here and there, moving everything on toward Winter. “Hurry,hurry” you whisper. Soon your whisper turns to a groan, and then to a roar. “Hurry, hurry. Winter is coming. Winter is near .” 

I hear you. I hear your roar. Bringing with you the promise of Winter, laden with ice and pregnant with snow. 

Soon you will tuck a thick blanket of snow around all the creatures in the tree, and they will sleep soundly as you rock them back and forth. 

You have work to do, so hurry, hurry. Winter is coming. Winter is near. 

The End of the Line 

It’s here. The days I’ve been dreading my whole life. I don’t know quite how to handle them, and it feels like a huge relief and terrifying all at the same time. 

So what happened ? I’m at the end of my baby bearing years. Most people might shrug it off and think I’m nuts for being melancholy, and continue about their life as though nothing has happened. But something HAS happened. Something that’s huge to me. 

I have spent my entire life thus far planning for and dreaming about babies. When the first baby would come, the second , the third , the fourth , and maybe more. I love planning for babies. There’s something safe and warm about planning for a new life , something sacred. I was used to the highs and lows that came with planning our family. My first baby was a surprise and came before I even knew I was ready for him. The second came when we thought we only wanted two children, and we were going to take on the world as a family of four. The third baby came and went in the space of a heartbeat. Her presence and sudden a sense left a rift in our hearts that hasn’t healed even years later. Our fourth baby was an answer to a prayer that was uttered in the depths of dispair after trying for months on end to bring for life. Our last baby was as much of a surprise the first, and her entrance more memorable and frightening than anything I’ve ever experienced.  

And now it’s over. My babies have all come and there will be no more. I look forward to every milestone each child reaches, and every day is more interesting than the last. But I’m on new ground. It’s so strange to one day be planning on the arrival of a baby , and the next be fighting for her life and being told that yours came way too close to ending and that you can never have another child even if you had wanted to. It was all tied up into a neat package and delivered to me while I was in surgery like a birthday gift from that odd in law no one ever wanted to hug because they smelled like a dead animal and wore way too much makeup. At the time I was too worried about my baby to really process anything other than what was going on with her. Those first days and weeks after her birth all ran together in a sleep deprived and emotional haze. As she nears six months old I am finally coming to terms that she is my baby. My very last baby. And I feel this overwhelming need to soak up every single second and make it last as long as possible.  

I’m starting to feel the emptiness that comes with no longer being needed. I have two kids in school this year. In two years I’ll have three. Soon they will all be in school and my days will be void of them for long hours on end. What then ? Is it just training for when they leave for adulthood ? Is this the beginning of the end ? What happens when they are gone and the house is no longer full of toys and songs on repeat? What do I do now ? Who am I now ? Who.  Am. I. Now. 

Shush a Bye , Shush a Bye 

I’m tired. I’m hurting. I’m anxious. I’m depressed. I am a mess. A full blown – Jane Fonda in “Monster In Law ” – mess. 

I have five kids at home that need me every waking second of the day  (and every other sleeping second of the night), a small business that I run with my husband , and to top it all off I’m am empath. Why does it matter that I’m am empath ? What does it mean ? 

It means that I feel everything more deeply than non-empaths,and I absorb the energy put off by the people around me. If you are my friend and post to your Facebook that your grandpa died , and you are crying over that loss then I immediately feel a deep pain in my heart for you as though it was my own loved one that passed away. I carry those feeling with me as intensely as if they were my own. I’ll go through that grieving process with you, and when we are together I will cry with you as you lay your hurt at my hearts door.   Being an empath means that I have a difficult time regulating my emotional response to the feelings and energy that I absorb from the people around me. That can make me feel like I’m a crazy person. Everyone struggles with emotion regulation, I know that in my heart and try to remind myself of it often. But even so I feel as though my heart isn’t my own. It feels so much more than any one should feel, and it feels these things to such a deep level that only another empath could possibly understand the immense struggle that comes with living this way.  

I am not trying to sound like someone looking for attention , nor am I looking for attention. I am just venting my pain and frustration. It’s been a rough week and I am stressed to the max with everything that is crowding my heart.  I have experienced so much pain and sadness and hurt this last week from so many different sources , and on so many different levels that I am utterly overwhelmed. I don’t know how to start processing everything going on right now along with the intense feeling of being needed so desperately by my own family. 

I wish there was a shut off switch. A button I could push that would compartmentalize everything for me and I could then take out each task and sort through it when I wanted to. It would be so much easier if feeling were neatly organized and put away in safe places to be kept until wanted. 

Instead they swirl and whirl in a colorful storm and engulf the heart all at once. Demanding and screaming at you to pay them attention like angry toddlers at their mothers skirts. Shush a bye feelings , shush a bye heart , go to sleep feelings , shut your eyes heart , tomorrow’s a new day, tomorrow we’ll start. 

Happy Mothers Day 

When I got pregnant with each child you were beyond happy for me , and shared in every exciting moment as they grew in my womb. When I brought the boys home from the hospital you were just as excite as I was. When they had their first birthday, took their first steps, and had their first fall you were right there with me cheering them on. 

You never miss a school function, and never hesitate when I need you to pick them up from school. You take them to do awesome things that I can’t , and spoil them rotten. You are the person they talk to when life gets tough, and the homework is too stressful. 

They love you just as much as you love them. The bond between you runs deep and strong. It isn’t broken by time, distance , or any other obstacles we have faced over the years.  

If I could choose one person to be a mom to my children I would have picked you a thousand times. It is a very special thing when you find a person that loves your children as much as you do. I’ve always hoped that my kids would find a person that would love them, guide them, and care for them like I do. They need to have someone other than their biological parents that fills that roll , and you do. And I thank you. Thank you for everything you give to me and my kids everyday .  You have blessed us in so many ways and I’ll never be able to express to you how much of a blessing you really are. 

Happy Mothers Day to my kids second Mom. The woman that’s been there beside me through everything. Nicole. I love you. ❤️

Roses are Red 

Thick black curls cover your perfectly round head. Eyes so blue they put the sky to shame peer out from under your delicate dark lashes. Tiny hands with long fingers encircle my breast as you nurse, and doze away into slumber. Little squeaks and sighs escape your tiny rosebud mouth after you’ve drank your fill and nestle into my chest. Looking down at you in this moment I am at peace with the world. This tiny bubble in time is perfect in every way , and I lose myself in it. The world continues to swirl around us and begs for attention . But I’ll stay here with you just a little longer. The phone can wait. The laundry and dishes and mopping can wait. All too soon you will be crawling , then walking, and then running out of my arms and into the big wild world to find yourself and your destiny. So for right now I am going to freeze this moment and breath in your scent as deeply as I can to stamp it into my memory banks forever. ❤️

It’s night time. The sky is dark , not even a star dares to peek through the thick blanket of clouds that have tucked them in for the night. The air is thick and carries a chill that settles into your bones. Rain is falling sleepily outside the window that is open ever so slightly to let the voice of the rain wash over the house. 

My body melts into the beat up old mattress under the open window , and the baby on my chest sighs as I adjust the coverlet over is both. Her brothers are asleep in the adjacent room, still and quiet for a few small hours while their tiny bodies rest. 

As I listen to the sleepy sounds that breath through the house I am remind again of all that I have. It isn’t until the world is asleep and calm that I can reflect on the day and reap the joy that was sprinkled through out. My days are filled with four voices calling out their wants and needs, piercing through the busy melody that is playing on a loop in my mind full of all that needs to be done to keep the family running smoothly. The unique chaotic melody easily overtakes my mind and grasps the controls to my responses and emotions , leaving me frazzled and stressed. These quiet moments are my haven. Refreshing and healing what the day has stripped away from me. 

Tonight I remember the smile on my oldest sons face when he embraced his tiny sister for the very first time, I snicker at how many times my newborn daughter tricked me into changing her diaper only to fill the clean one within seconds, I lock away the memory of my four year old talking to a wild bunny that took refuge from the storm in out front yard, and I relish all times that my toddler said “love too momma” . 

As I nestle my newborn into my chest and reflect upon the day , my heart is full. I am surrounded by the warm love of my children and husband, and I know  above everything else that our love will carry us through all the chaos of life. ❤️

Confessions of a Mom with Four Kids 

With Pinterest, Instagram, and the  Jones next door the pressure to be a perfect Suberbia mom just keeps climbing. Do you make your own play dough ? Eat organic ? Send your kid to Wiggles N Tunes ? The list goes on , and on, and on , and on ……… At some point I have to admit defeat as I prop up my feet on the stained ottoman and watch reruns on Netflix as the kids fight over the last DumDum. 

I’ve learned a few things over the years. Mostly what’s worth worrying over and what’s not. Trust me – most of it isn’t worth the stress. 

Here are my confessions and lessons learned . 

1) My house will never be clean, organized, or free of disasters 100% of the time. Hell even 30% of the time. So I learned to embrace it and let go of the standards I had set for myself to have my house look like a Home & Gardens mag. 

2) With 4 kids one kid is always crying , ones trying to sleep, ones either sick or getting over something, and they are ALL always hungry. Always. 

3) No matter how hard I try the laundry will never be caught up. As long as everyone has clean underwear to wear it’s all good , right ? 

4) It’s totally ok to not wear matching socks. Believe me , my OCD is twitching st this one but it’s true. I won’t burst into flames if my 6 year old wears unmatched socks to school. 

5) I will never again take a dump without at least half a dozen interruptions, and one kid trying to take over the house while I’m gone for five glorious seconds. 

6) I can’t keep anything other than my kids alive. I’ve tried and failed. Plants die in the garden every year no matter how diligently I try to water them , and we have now had TWO African Dward Frogs pass over the little froggy bridge while I desperately tried to remember to feed them. 

7) “Mom Wars” are a crock of shit. Stop telling me how to be a parent , I don’t tell you what to do. Do your own shit and I’ll do mine. 

8) The PTA will survive without my vote about what fundraiser to make our kids do . I only have so much energy and sadly it’s not being spent on the PTA. Sorry , not sorry. 

9) I still can figure out dry shampoo. How the fuck does this stuff not make you look like Cruella ? I’m doomed to wear the messy bun for the remainder of my kids years at home. 

10) I only paint my toes every four months. I don’t even remember that I have toes 99% of the time. I laugh at adds that’s advertise getting your nails done for the upcoming season. Who has time for that ? Not me. That’s for sure. 

Hope this brought you a laugh, and honestly – no one has time for most of the shit they stress about. So let it go and enjoy life. You only get one shot at it. 

It’s night time. The sky is dark , not even a star dares to peek through the thick blanket of clouds that have tucked them in for the night. The air is thick and carries a chill that settles into your bones. Rain is falling sleepily outside the window that is open ever so slightly to let the voice of the rain wash over the house. 

My body melts into the beat up old mattress under the open window , and the baby on my chest sighs as I adjust the coverlet over is both. Her brothers are asleep in the adjacent room, still and quiet for a few small hours while their tiny bodies rest. 

As I listen to the sleepy sounds that breath through the house I am remind again of all that I have. It isn’t until the world is asleep and calm that I can reflect on the day and reap the joy that was sprinkled through out. My days are filled with four voices calling out their wants and needs, piercing through the busy melody that is playing on a loop in my mind full of all that needs to be done to keep the family running smoothly. The unique chaotic melody easily overtakes my mind and grasps the controls to my responses and emotions , leaving me frazzled and stressed. These quiet moments are my haven. Refreshing and healing what the day has stripped away from me. 

Tonight I remember the smile on my oldest sons face when he embraced his tiny sister for the very first time, I snicker at how many times my newborn daughter tricked me into changing her diaper only to fill the clean one within seconds, I lock away the memory of my four year old talking to a wild bunny that took refuge from the storm in out front yard, and I relish all times that my toddler said “love too momma” . 

As I nestle my newborn into my chest and reflect upon the day , my heart is full. I am surrounded by the warm love of my children and husband, and I know  above everything else that our love will carry us through all the chaos of life. ❤️

My Mother and Me 

“Well a Mother, a real Mother is the most wonderful person in the world             

She’s the angel voice that bids you goodnight 

Kisses your cheek and whispers “sleep tight ” 

Your mother and mine. Your mother and mine. “- Your Mother and Mine , Disney’s Peter Pan 

I have spent the last 20 some years analyzing every detail that makes up the relationship between me and my mother. I’ve always felt that I got the short end of the stick when it came to mothers. Ours wasn’t a picture perfect relationship at any point in my childhood, and I grew up with a lot of baggage and questions swirling around me constantly. 

Since having my own children and making my own mistakes as a parent , I have come to realize a few things. The first is that my mother is damaged. She had a difficult childhood , and was deeply scarred from what she endured as a young child and young adult. I’ve heard the argument “at some point you have to own up to your mistakes, and stop blaming your past. ” I’ve even said it. But, that’s only partly true. When you go through traumatic events early in life they leave scars that aren’t easily over come. That doesn’t excuse the actions of the victim when they do wrong as an adult, but it does help us understand that they may not be in total control of what they do either. 

It’s like baking a cake with wet baking soda. Your cake won’t rise , and that sucks , but if the box wouldn’t have gotten wet than it may be different. You can’t go back and keep the box from getting wet, but you can understand that when you used wet baking soda you won’t get exactly what you wanted. 

Another thing that I realized is that she did the best she could , and gave what she had to give. It wasn’t much. She didn’t have much love to give. She wasn’t the super lovey dovey type that said “I’m so proud of you!” And gave you a huge hug when you aced a test. She just didn’t have it to start with , so she couldn’t very well give it away. I unknowingly expected something from her that she simply was not. I blamed myself for her lack of emotional connection , and displays of affection. I thought if I was thinner , smarter, more obedient, did more work, that she would give the things I wanted the most. I was asking her to be someone she wasn’t, and that wasn’t fair to her. 

Parenting is hard. And when you grow up with parents that are extremely religious and strict without explanation, it makes things harder. My mom grew up in a difficult family. She had six siblings, her family was extremely strict, Grandma was sick a lot and Grandpa was constantly gone in his efforts to provide for his family. She tried hard to step out of her parents shadows and find her own way as a parent , but with a large family with strong opinions that didn’t make it easy. I remember many times as a child listening in to adult conversations about how we were being raised , and hearing my grandparents and moms siblings commenting on all the ways she was failing. 

I know from being a parent myself that everyone and their dog has an opinion about how you do things. Hearing the opinions of family members isn’t easy to do , and can make things even more difficult on a struggling mom. 

My mom wasn’t perfect. My mom did a lot of things that hurt me. She does things now that hurt me , but that goes both ways. Looking back at my childhood I see my mom in a new light. My scars are still there , but I can understand the person that gave them to me a little better .