Bye Bye Boobies!!

   If boobs make you uncomfortable, more specifically MY boobs, you may want to forgo this post.

 Here I am.. 11 days post op. and finally ready to share my experience. 

   People keep asking, especially my husband (for obvious reasons, he has to live with my crazy) if I am happy with my decision. Ya’ll.. happy is a complete understatement. 

   Nine years ago, post baby number two and a gross amount of weight loss (we’re talking, I was 120lbs..) I walked into my surgeons office and discussed a tummy tuck and breast augmentation. I had a spare tire on my front from 2 cesareans and pancake tits. My body was completely foreign to me and that was hard to deal with.  Fast forward to approx. 2 months ago, I put on an underwire bra and the next thing I knew I had 3 boobs. My left implant decided to go rogue and the pressure from my bra, literally pushed my implant into my armpit. I wasn’t in pain but it was definitely not comfortable. Sometimes she would slink back into her space, others I had to force her in there but regardless of where she ended her nights and started her days, she was becoming a real issue.

   My surgeon explained that because I am a side sleeper (my left side to be exact) my VERY heavy implant had escaped her designated pocket. Other factors played in, such as the excess weight I have put on and gravity. Though not painful, the only way to correct this is with surgery. Score!! I finally had a reason to reduce those beasts.

   Now, here is what I will share from my whole heart. Nine years ago I did not realize that being self conscious about my body would not be cured with any surgery.. in fact, in some ways, big boobs made my insecurities even worse. You’ll be shocked to know, I don’t like to draw attention to myself. I know, weird right? I’m covered in tattoos and definitely someone people notice. I don’t say that in a conceded tone either, I mean, I don’t blend in..

 My big boobs and my small frame quickly became comedic relief for my friends and family. So much so that if I was wearing something that accentuated them, I would often point it out in a self deprecating way so that no one else had to. Now, this is hard because pretty much anything outside of an oversized hoody or parka accentuated them but tank tops or body suits made me look like I’d topple over with a good breeze. 

  So back on track here. Recovering from a surgery of said caliber is no joke. I had a full breast revision. That came complete with a lift, reduction and new implant. My surgery started at 7 a.m. and I wasn’t out of recovery until just shy of 2 p.m. It was A LOT.  For the first 4 days all I did was sleep. It hurt to get up and walk, it hurt to use my arms, it just plain hurt. At my first post op. My Dr. asked if I wanted to see them, between the nausea from the pain meds and my questionable headspace, I declined. I knew I would have what’s called an “anchor incision” and I had totally agreed to that but in my mind I could only imagine that they would look like something out of a Texas Chainsaw remake and I just wasn’t ready. I knew without question I would be happy with a much smaller chest but I had been living in those boobs for nine solid years.  I’m on day 11, I have finally worked up the courage to gaze at my new body and my initial thought was not far off, move over leather face! They definitely are in their ugly duckling stage. You know what though? I walked by a mirror yesterday in a department store and caught a side profile view of myself and for the first time since my surgery, I lit up like a Christmas tree. I looked proportionate. I FELT proportionate. Watch out, self confidence is making a slow come back.

    In closing this most absurd blog post, I am truly happy with my results. I know they will only get better and the lack of back pain is something that can’t even be put into words. The day of surgery I was a DDD and came home a full C. That’s a big change!  I am beyond thankful for a husband who supports me, always. Sean and the boys are continuing to take care of me, they remind me daily to “not over do it” and I am getting better about asking for help. Side note, the first two days anytime I had to ask for help I would burst into tears. This had nothing to do with physical pain, I just don’t ever ask for help and felt like a real burden. 

   What makes me most excited is the ability enter a room at the same time as my tits and not seconds after. Big boobs are seriously over rated! Though I am a huge advocate for correcting your body in anyway you see fit, understanding that it wont “fix” your headspace is a different level. Making amends with this beautiful vessel that has grown two babies, carries more burdens than could ever be discussed and adorns art like a gallery, my plan moving forward is to heal from the inside and hopefully it will radiate on the outside. I need to mentally and physically appreciate this body. Working on loving ME is my 2022 goal. <3

   

Step Mommin’ ain’t easy..

  So much change has happened in the last couple of months. Change I have been quiet about.

 Yesterday was a day like any other in our home. Work, errands, grabbing dinner out because life happens. As we sat at the table eating Chipotle, Cooper asked, “When was the last time we went to Great Wolf Lodge?” To which I replied, “A few years ago before the New Found Glory Concert with The Ataris..” to which my loving husband questioned my ability to remember exactly what bands were really playing. As if.. my response was, “I specifically chose that concert because Madison was super into the Ataris at the time, it was a week they were with us and last minute they decided to go camping with their mom instead and I had to sell those tickets.” Sean replied, “that’s right!” And Madison said, “I felt bad about that!” To which I replied, “but not bad enough to go..” .. she gave me a Madison look, smiled and said, “you just don’t understand..”

 This conversation has come up often. The one where “I don’t understand..” First and many times with her sister and now with her. The “you don’t understand what it’s like to have to live between two homes, to have to choose between parents on their “non” week. The lack of understanding when one home doesn’t measure up to the other..” But how wrong they are, how I do understand and why their father and I have always said, “Be where you’re happy..” despite our own feelings in the matter. 

 I was 25 when Sean and I got married. I had an 18 month old son and was really trying to figure out who I was after a failed marriage. I was “casually” dating and discovering for the first time, who I wanted to be as an “adult” (to be fair, I still don’t know what an adult is..) When we met, it was a whirlwind. We were immediately inseparable and I instantly fell in love with his two girls. Aubrey with her newly grown in big front teeth and glasses, she was so fucking sweet and instantly stuck to my side. We did arts and crafts and talked about school. She was 7. Madison with her big eyes and beautiful loose curly hair was 4, almost 5 and she just wanted to be everywhere her sister was. I can still remember her tiny voice asking me to help her peel stickers for the project we were working on the first time I officially met them. Little did I know how these two would fill up so much positive space in my heart. 

 In the last few months I have had to reflect long and hard about this “step mom” gig. You see, some of you know and some of you don’t the struggles of being a step parent. Of stepping in to love a child that isn’t biologically yours. To love a child that innately rejects you because of what you represent. A child(ren)  who also can’t fully love you back because of what the “other side” says about you or because they feel like you’ve taken their dad away. In eleven years I have faced all of this and more. Ive tried to do it with grace and with a level head. Sometimes I’ve done it so well that even I am impressed with myself and others, I’m human and my feelings get the best of me but I can honestly say that I’ve often and routinely forced my feelings down and tried to “understand” theirs. 

 I can remember a time when we lived in Victorville, after throwing Aubrey a birthday party and having a great day, finding her on her bed crying. At this point we had already gotten married and had Cooper, not that the time reference is that substantial since that happened within the first 33 minutes of us being together but I say that to reference, I had at least been around a bit. I crawled into her bed next to her and asked, “What’s wrong babe?” .. she looked at me and said, “I just wish my mom and dad were still married.” I can still remember exactly how that felt. I tried to reassure her that though I could understand that feeling that she had so many new people to love her. Her step dad, his family, her new brothers, my family and of course, myself. What I didn’t say but how I felt was that, “I’m trying so hard. I’m trying to balance love between my new kids and my biological kids and this is just as hard for me as it is you. I am trying so hard to be an asset to your life and not over step some invisible line that pisses anyone off. I am trying..”

 I tell this brief story amid a myriad of them because it is all encompassing of being a step parent. Good, bad, indifferent.. no amount of trying ever feels like enough. Imagine being offered the job of an astronaut, only having the education of a telecommunications operator but being expected to conquer both. It’s a constant feeling of everyone expecting you to know exactly what to do when you really have no fucking idea and lets be real, I’m not even that good at being a REAL mom, let alone a step one but not for lack of trying.

 For years I have been accused of loving my own children more. Of loving one child more than the rest, of never being enough for all. Now, as a parent we already feel like were not enough.. but to actually have it said to you routinely and sometimes for the smallest injustice is just, damn. I’ve really sat in this accusation lately and I can tell you, I don’t love my biological kids more than my step.. but maybe it appears to my children that way. I can assure you that its easier to love the boys but not because I love them more, its because they live with me full time and I’m not constantly competing for their attention. I am not having to “reset” for rules in our home over another. I am not having to constantly “prove” my love for them because of some innate insecurity and vice versa. My boys just love me. They love me for my faults and my failures and my attempts. They don’t hold me to the standard of another or compare me to someone else. So though not greater or lesser, its just easier and I think that often gets mistaken for a greater love.

  I have made sure to include myself in the day to day but also, in the priorities that shouldn’t have been mine to begin with. Doctors appointments, dentist appointments, eye doctors and emergencies in between. I have chaperoned nearly every field trip, I have been present for every parent teacher conference, award ceremonies and when asked I volunteered in their classrooms on my only day off in the work week. I showed up to volleyball games even on our “off weeks” because being a parent doesn’t stop every other week. I rearranged my entire work schedule to accommodate practice drop offs, pick ups and everything in between. I have been asked to move my work day, my obligations and sacrifice for their happiness. For eleven years I have done this without fail for ALL of my kids. I don’t say these things to toot my own horn but man, as a “step mom” .. Ive done far more than was ever necessary and I did it with love in my heart and the appreciation of having the ability to do so. Even on the hard days, I was still appreciative.

 Recently I have been purposely excluded from major life events, I have been accused of doing things I didn’t do and oddly enough, sometimes I was the only parent who would listen and try to understand but now am the villain. In a recent conversation with a friend, the topic of being a “good mom” came up. She said to me, “it hurts now and some day it wont hurt so much but despite all the feelings you’ve had over the years, all the blame you’ve taken and all the good things you’ve done that went un noticed or others were given credit for.. as long as you know your heart, you’ll never regret being a good mom and in case you don’t hear it enough.. you’re a great mom.”

 I took that with me through the rest of my day and chewed on it a bit. “You’ll never regret being a good mom..” and that is true. I don’t. My only goal as a parent was to be better than the one that I had. If you knew her, you know I’m slaying, even on my worst days. Do I have failures and short comings? Fuck yes.. Do I get it all right? Who does?! But have I tried and tried? Absolutely.

 So to my “step” daughters.. I want to say this. I love you now just as I loved you the first day I met you. I have loved you more and more as the years have passed and it has been a blessing to me to watch you grow. Every time you think I don’t understand, I do. I understand the struggle of two homes because I am the provider of one. I understand the struggle to choose between us and your other home because I also have to choose. I choose not to show my feelings every time they are hurt, I choose not to shut down or shut you out despite that being my fight or flight response. I choose silence instead of being in your face because for all my choices, you also have to make your own and be happy with them. You have to make mistakes, you have to fail and succeed to grow. Just know, no matter what season were in, I love you.

Just a big bowl of yuck 🤮

 It’s been a long while since I’ve been here. Though I’ve had so much to talk about I really am just not supposed to. 🤷🏻‍♀️

 Today, on the ninth anniversary of our wedding, I spent the better part of the day feeling sorry for myself. I blame this mostly on the fact that I’m about to start my period but really, it’s because I’m a little scared. 

 Since 2017, Sean and I have been in a legal battle. Some of you know, some of you don’t .. but it’s the first time I’ve ever put it somewhere like here. I can’t say why or with whom because well.. it’s all still going on. 

 What I can say though is that it has cost us more than we had/have, in money and sanity. It has put a strain on our family I never thought possible. Here we are though, strong, resilient. 

 I lost my job last week, temporary or not.. this is so scary for me. Since the day I secured my Cosmetology license, I’ve worked everyday since. As I wallow in this feeling, I can’t help but kick myself for being so selfish. I am not the only one, millions are facing the same situation I am. 

 I am not the only mom stuck in the house with their kids, I am not the only person feeling completely useless. I am not the only one who’s allowing COVID-19 to slowly steal my normalcy. 

 It’s hard right? In this time I’m supposed to be thankful for my current blessings. My home, my utilities, the food in my fridge and cupboard? The fact that not once have I stood in line for toilet paper.. but the reality for me is that I have these things because I’ve had a job. I’ve had the ability to work hard for these things.. 

 I called my Mortgage company.. their solution is a three month forbearance. However, at the end of said three months, my mortgage is still due, in full.. for the three months. Let’s make sense of this, can we? I’ve lost my job and social distancing means that I am not supposed to work, at all. So, we all know that two weeks isn’t going to end this.. we will be in this for a lot longer, especially as cases in SB County continue to rise. People like me don’t qualify for unemployment. So, depending on how long this takes, I could become one or more payments behind.. easily. But I’m supposed to come up with those payments and a 3rd in that time? 

 Toyota has no solid answer for me, despite the calls every other day. So I made my truck payment and hope and pray there is a solution soon. 

 My real question is this.. if we’re “supposed” to have three or more months in a reserve for something like this, “emergency situations” but we all live check to check, how in the hell are corporations who profit MILLIONS, crumbling in a matter of weeks? 

 I haven’t really put any of this out there because I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. I don’t want pity or to borrow money. I just want to take a moment to be scared. To be uncertain. I just need to take a moment to validate my own feelings. 

The boys fight endlessly the minute they’re within a 2ft space of each other. . I have teenagers who think that having to clean a bathroom after doing fuck all, all day, is the end of the world. I have a husband who is exhausted between work and trying to fix things here at home.. and all the while, I can’t fix anything. 

 I just kinda wish that the load I’m carrying was a tad lighter. I know that when we come out of this, things will go back to normal.. or a new normal but for now, I just need to say it. This is shitty. 

 And please for the love of all that is holy, don’t offer me money. Though I know this has been done with love, if I can’t pay my bills, taking out a loan from family is the last stress I need or to think about paying back, ok?  Though I appreciate the offers and that you think I’m “good for it”.. right now I can’t promise that I am.😘

 I’m done whining. I’m probably done crying..

 Happy Nine amazing Years to my husband and me. We’ve been through some shit, a lot of shit! This was probably my least favorite anniversary celebration to date but we had each other, we had the kids and maybe one day when I look back on this one I won’t remember how much I disliked today.. but that like other situations in our life, we survived it. ❤️ Stay safe my friends. Stay healthy. I’m done wallowing. Maybe. Probably.. ok, definitely. 😂

Why Christmas Will Always Be A No..

   If you know me, even a little it is no secret that Christmas is not my "thing". I loathe it, I TRULY hate it. For most of my adulthood it's been an ongoing joke. Right around November friends and colleagues start giving me shit. Singing Christmas music to me, asking me about my holiday plans.
   Y'all make fun of my delay to get my tree up and how quickly it comes down. You tease that for someone who hates the holiday so much, how is it possible that my decorations are so pretty and my shopping is ALWAYS done long before necessary. So.. I'm FINALLY going to put this out here for you guys. When you're done reading and you feel like a complete ass hole- just know I still love you and you can still tease me.
   Some of you have heard my life story a million times over but for fun sake, let's recap.  I was born to a 16 year old, unwed, drug addict. From the start my mother was honest with me about most things, one of those things being her drug addiction. My mom had no qualms about using in front of me, sometimes asking me to "rack" her lines for her. (She was handicap which is another story for another day.) With this new knowledge you can understand that we didn't have a lot of money and sometimes we were homeless. I've lived in a shelter, I've slept in a car. Mostly my grandparents would take me in when things would get bad but this was the story of my entire childhood.
    Christmas was not the same for me as it was for other kids I knew and hung out with. I can remember being told nearly every year not to get too excited. Santa wasn't real, he wouldn't be slipping through the door with presents for me because there was no money. Let's rephrase, there was money for drugs but not enough for a sticker book and a bike for yours truly.
    On the rough years I would go to sleep, wishing they were wrong. Hoping that for sure, Santa was real and would appear with a tree and presents. (yeah, a lot of years there wasn't a tree either.) Now, for most kids or families in this position you would think the focus would be on family or quality time together. No, no such luck. I would wake in the morning, to find nothing there and the day was the same as any other.
   On the not so rough years, my grandmother would pull out a small tree, usually real. She would shove some decorations at me and we might put it together. Some years there were presents in abundance and some that were salvaged by my DeeDee and Uncle B. No matter the year though, good or bad there was never any magic.
   Christmas music makes my head hurt, my tree will always be fake, decorations look like clutter and my need to get my shopping done early comes from a place of fear. Not having anything or enough of something under the tree for my babies is a legit fear so I start shopping and collecting in September every year.
    We have our own traditions, sure. I yell at the kids to stop clustering the ornaments, I say the "fuck" word at least a dozen times and I get pissed at the amount of glitter I have to vacuum every year from the stupid ornaments and hoopla.
   Here is the most important part for me though. My kids, know very little about why I dislike Christmas. They know it's not my favorite holiday and they know they have to pull me into it, every year. For them, it is magical. For them, it's more than just presents under the tree. It's the excitement of Aubrey and Madison taking over the elves on the week's they're home. It's turning on the Christmas lights when they get home and looking forward to all the family get togethers we have. The inevitable Santa gift that will bring a smile to all of their faces. The gratitude they show when it's all over. For me, it's taking the tree down on Christmas day and shoving it back away where it goes. It's putting all the extra garb away and forgetting the day happened. It's whole heartedly appreciating the 364 days that will pass before I have to do allllll the bullshit again. It's knowing that people around me will mostly turn back into normal weirdo's instead of Christmas weirdo's who suddenly forgot that Christmas is the same fucking day every year and their lack of preparedness isn't my urgency.
    So when you assume that I am just a Grinchy ass hole, it's mostly true. My child hood trauma though, still runs deep. I'll keep doing the good stuff for my kids but for me, Christmas is always going to be a No.
 

Sucking and Adulting..

Get your mind out of the gutter, this isn't that kind of sucking.
 Sometimes when life is crazy chaotic and my plate can't seem to hold much more, when I feel like I might break.. my kids have this crazy natural instinct and they have this innate way of bringing me back down, they help me find some form of center and they REALLY, on the daily, remind me to count my blessings.
 Today was crazy guys. I woke up with a migraine, rushed out to chaperone Riley's field trip and my allergies fueled the unnecessary fire in my left nostril cavity for the REST OF MY DAY.
 I left the field trip a tad early to be home in time to grab my three littles from school, rushed off to fix an iPhone, spent a good portion of my evening on the phone with Apple for a different, overpriced and unnecessary product all while shuffling kids to and from volleyball and prepping that damned snack drawer.
Today, like most Monday's I failed to properly plan for dinner because there aren't ever enough hours in a Monday. (insert sarcastic emoji face here.) $10.01 on a Del Taco Fiesta pack is quickly finding it's way into my Monday budget.
 Like every mom with a fourth grader at Sitting Bull, I spent my evening focusing on Riley's mission project which is due on Wednesday. Have no fear, we've known about it for at least a month.
 Some how in all this madness, Aubrey and I had the chance to have such a wonderful but prolific conversation about Jason, I feel the need to share it with you.
 Aubrey and I were discussing that horrible year and all that we went through. She told me that in that time she really felt lost in the shuffle of our life and shadowed by Riley's loss. She didn't say this with malice or ill intent, she said it in a way that expressed how she ALSO felt the loss of Jason but didn't know how to talk about it. She said, "Riley wasn't the only one who loved him and missed him when he died, we ALL lost Jason."
 Whoa, right? Like, here we all were, killing it at this parent business and he went and died.. leaving this hole in each one of my family member's lives.
 I went on to tell Aubrey that as adults, we sometimes REALLY suck and that whole year after he died, I REALLY, REALLY sucked.
 I missed Jason for all the years we would no longer have, I ached for all the milestones Riley accomplished, I resented him for leaving me here to do this child raising alone. Even though I knew Sean was by my side every step of the way my heart was really mad.
 In all my own grief, that was by far the worst year I have had in a such a long time. I was so void of being a parent, being a wife, working, being a friend.. I was on auto pilot. I think back now and I don't even know how we made it through that time. I do however remember crying, a lot. I remember lots of mornings when Sean would lovingly say, "You HAVE to get out of bed babe, you have to be an adult today."
 What an amazing husband I have. Seriously, for a good year I mourned the loss of my ex husband, Riley's dad and not once did he show anger or resentment. He supported me, he pushed me through most days and he showed me grace when I was a raging cunt. He's that way in every part of our life by the way, taking my frustrations, my disappointment's and my irrational rants in stride.
 Back to Aubrey and me. So, were having this crazy good conversation and all of a sudden were both crying and I'm apologizing for super sucking that year. For all the things I can't remember, for all the times I failed to show up emotionally and for how selfish I was in that moment.
 I really am sorry for that time. I am sorry for wallowing in my own grief a little longer than I should have, for not being a better rock for my children and husband.
 Here is what I took away from our conversation the most though.. as a parent, we're sometimes arrogant. We forget the importance of slowing down and taking it all in. We forget to say, "I'm sorry" and almost always, we don't admit when we suck. We also almost always expect our children to "just understand".
 I expressed to her that at that time, when I was sucking at life, I was giving them each my best and  that I knew it wasn't great. As crappy as that sounds, what effort I had left to exhaust WAS going to them. Each of them in different amounts but I was operating at a smooth 40%.
 I told her that even now, lots of days I suck but what I have learned over the last three years is that beating myself up over and over after they have all gone to bed doesn't help any of us. I told her that I measure myself now against what I had growing up. If on this Monday I sucked and maybe didn't have the ultimate crock pot meal going while juggling everything else, at least I kept them alive, transported and loved. The most important in that sentence is Loved. No matter how bad I am sucking or killing it, I hope all four of my children always know how incredibly loved they are and that each and every day they are the blessings that I count. <3

Mental Health Day's for the Win..

 A lot has been happening in the Ehart house. Nothing of which I'd like to publicly air. Yesterday my husband treated me to a much needed "mental health day." A day to just enjoy the life we have, enjoy the boys and forget all the stress at home.
 My husband, took us to Disneyland. I was so excited to get the hell out of here, put some tickets we had socked away to good use and enjoy the smells, the color and of course the holiday magic that happens around this time of year.
 What I got was so much more. They say that when you have kids you get to experience magic through their eyes. I have encountered this on a few occasions but it's been awhile. Some would say my kids are "spoiled". They have had the luxury of Disneyland passes in the past, Knott's Berry Farm, Universal Studio's, San Diego Zoo even Sea World. The point to this is that they are no stranger to theme parks or a life of fun.
 Yesterday though, it was like my boy's were going to Disneyland for the first time! That sounds crazy but we did the math and it's been almost 4 years since we've been in that park. The boys were 5 and 2 the last time we were there! I got to watch them explore and take in all the sights and sounds. They rode ride's they have been on at least a dozen times but couldn't remember or were to small to ride before. The day had no stress, no strife and the boys were of course none the wiser to our "need" for a break.
 I had the pleasure of holding onto Cooper as we took large turns on Big Thunder Mountain, his belly laughs as the wind whipped through his hair and his arms were up and waving. I got to hold my Riley boy's hand on the Haunted Mansion as we took in all the Nightmare Before Christmas decorations. We all rode Indiana Jones together and neither of them were scared of the effects. My favorite part though, was at the end of the night when we ended our park visit with the Finding Nemo Sub ride. My husband put his arms around me and we both watched the boys deep in the windows of the sub, listening to the narrator and taking in the characters. Riley even went on to nudge Cooper and tell him, "Look Coopie! Those Jelly Fish are real!!" (They aren't real but neither of them need to know that truth.)
 Yesterday, I forgot to worry about the things that are out of my control and I got to enjoy watching this life, the one we have built and are building through our boys.
 I got to really enjoy the day, not being pulled in any one direction and I got to experience a new kind of magic and wonder through my kids. I got to see that no matter how serious life can be you should always make a little room to be silly, play harder than you work and take time to just breathe. Yesterday, we didn't worry about finances (though, we really should.. fuck it, it will work itself out.) we didn't worry about personal drama, dirty floors or taking out the trash. (for real.. forgot to put them down to the street.. oops?)
 I don't publicly say it as often as I should but I am so thankful for my ginger and all four of my children. They make the bad weeks better, the shit days bearable and the fun moments worth enjoying to the fullest. They keep me grounded and I couldn't imagine doing this very life without them. <3

It's "OK" to Deal With the "Things"..

Sean: Babe..

Me: Yes?

Sean: You know I love you..

Me: I'm sorry I've been so neurotic the last few days..

Sean: It's ok. You have a lot on your mind, you're ok..

Me: Just a little, maybe a few things.

Sean: You know it's ok to "deal" with "things", right?

 So, what some of you may know and what some are just finding out is that I have been having some less then desirable heath issues the last year. I try my best to down play it and to not freak myself out. I also try really hard not to freak ya'll out.. but the last few weeks have been a little harder then others.

 You see, nearly a year ago I was diagnosed with a condition called Interstitial Cystitis. Basically, my bladder is a real moody bitch and doesn't always like to be a team player. This condition sounds scary and is really hard to properly say, pronounce or even explain but mostly it's just really inconvenient. It's painful but lucky for me, I can function at almost full capacity almost all the time.

 IC is mostly (for me) controlled with a mild blood thinner that causes me to have some pretty wicked side effects. 

 None of this is really crazy important for you to know because this is not the "specific thing" occupying most of my brain space.

 Three weeks ago I saw my urologist for a follow up and after ruling out some stuff and things he decided our next course of action is for another cystoscopy with a high chance of biopsy. Medical jargon because I am watching Grey's Anatomy as I type this.

 I have done a decent job of not stressing, not letting this course of action change my moods but as my surgery date approaches I am allowing some pretty dark thoughts to occupy those positive spaces.

 I keep pep talking myself, telling myself that whatever it is, I will get through it. 

 I will.. but to be honest I am scared. I am really freaked out and I am insanely stressed. 

 I know people who have cancer, who have beat cancer and I have mourned those who tried but lost. I selfishly don't want to be any of those things. I don't want to have cancer (I know, does anyone?), I don't want to have to fight to beat or lose to cancer. I don't ever want someone to mourn me because of cancer.

 I've done what every medical professional I know has told every patient in the world not to do. I have googled, webMd the shit out of my symptoms and even struggled to explain away so many of them. I even for a day, one solid day, considered canceling this rapidly approaching surgery. (Don't worry, I didn't.)

 I have downplayed my feelings about all the new things going on because, well, I don't want to "deal" with these things. Or so I thought until my husband said to me, "You know it's ok to "deal" with "things", right?" What I am sort of starting to realize now is that I don't know how to deal with my own things. I can advocate for my children, scream from a rooftop about my job, confront an irrational client, pep talk the spirit back into just about anyone and discuss all aspects of my life but when it comes to dealing with my own personal struggles.. I don't really know how.

 I don't know how to be rationally concerned for my own well being without falling apart. The last two nights that Sean and I have tried to talk about my health all I can do is cry.

 I know I come off as a hard ass and I soldier through a lot of physical pain.. this is no secret. I am often referred to as crazy, so strong, to stubborn or my least favorite, "super woman." All said mostly as a term of endearment but the truth is this whole week I have been nervous, anxiety ridden, stressed, angry and mostly scared.

 Scared that if this is just a bad IC flare up that this will be a reoccurring hindrance in my life. Scared that if it is more then just an IC flare up that I will have to fight. Scared that my children will inevitably be affected by my fears. I am aware that my fears are premature and are definitely isolating me but I mostly prefer to be a silent sufferer. 

 I don't know how to say these things out loud but last night as I read the book called "Love You Forever" to Cooper and Riley, a book we have read hundreds of times since before they were born I got choked up and I let myself wonder if I were gone from this world, who would read to my babies?

 Who would call them my names of endearment or share their "I LOVE PENIS" stories with the world? Who could fill my shoes and be everything that I am for my adorable ehart clan.

 I don't want to wonder those things. I don't want to think of my husband and children navigating our beautiful life without me.. so I just don't "deal" with this "thing."

 I truthfully send out silent vibes every night that three weeks from now I'll be writing a blog post about how healthy I am, how stupid this blog post was and how I was worked up for absolutely nothing.

 So, in a not so short peek into my life.. if I seem testy, irrational or just plain distant don't take it personal. I am trying to deal with things and I am not as good at it as I pretend. I am trying to stay positive and I am trying to be attentive to all the normal aspects of my life but this week is a little harder then I would like to admit. <3

To The Man I Once Called Dad..

Isn't it amazing that you can go years without giving much thought about someone who at some point meant the world to you but the curiosity of a child can have you doing social media searches and google searches within minutes?
 It has been 9 years since I last reached out to you. Before that I was 17. You left my life, sometime around the age of 10. I guess, I am over due for my usual search for you. This time though, I'm not angry and this is my open letter for you, not to you.
 I called you just before my graduation and asked you to attend. I invited you to come sit in the stands as I was recognized for my accomplishments because I wanted someone there who could understand the weight of that accomplishment, someone who would know what I came from and what an accomplishment my graduation really was. Someone, I could say was there for me.
 Your reply was a "No." ... You told me that you had your very own family and that I was apart of your past and you asked me not to contact you again. At that time I couldn't understand why. I was once your daughter, you were the only dad I knew. The only dad I could remember.
 I emailed you when I was 22 or maybe I was 23. I emailed you to let you know my mom had passed away and I was surprised to get a response. You made some quip about my e-mail address and I think you asked how I was doing? I remember being angry in my response.. and I remember hating that I wanted you to care more.
  If this were to reach you today, I would want to tell you that I am sorry. I am sorry for expecting you to think of me the way I often thought of you. In my head and sometimes my diary, I always imagined you would just re-appear in my life and we would have a bond that I longed for.
 I want you to know I'm not angry anymore. Not with you, or my mom.. or Floyd and Carol. I turned out to be a pretty decent person and a fairly good Mom. I'm successful and happy.
 I'd want you to know that in some ways, I am a spitting image of Teri. I use "fuck" more then I should, I'm quick witted and when I see my smile in a reflection, I see her. I love hard and I give more then I should which were about her only redeeming qualities.
 I think it would also be wise though to tell you that I didn't follow in her foot steps. I've never put drugs up my nose or into my veins, I've never touched a cigarette and I furthered my education. I waited until an acceptable time in my life to have children and I'd go to the ends of the earth for each and every one of them. I say this more for me then you though, you see, when I was young and angry I reached out to you for some form of acceptance. I needed validation. I don't need that from you now.
 Today, for the first time ever, I told my daughters about you. I told them about the time you took me camping at the Kern River and how I almost drown when I slipped from my tube. How we were all thankful I had taken those swimming lessons the summer before. I was brief in my discussion about you and within minutes, my oldest had google searched you, found your home address and a land line number. She asked if I wanted to call you.. to which I replied, "No."
 This girl can only handle so much rejection and you made it clear that you didn't want me to continue to contact you directly. I'll respect that.
 What I would say to you though, if given the chance is this:
 Thank you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for giving me your time and treating me well while you were apart of my life. I now understand all that it takes to love a child who is not biologically mine. The time, the effort, the thankless job it is to love a child who doesn't have to love you back.
 I understand now, as an adult that you gave me what you could during a time that must have been hard on you. To not only end a relationship with my mom but to have to walk away from me probably wasn't easy on you.
 I remember the year after we moved back to Apple Valley that you sent me a couple Nintendo games for my birthday. I never got the chance to tell you how much that meant to me. To be fair, at that time I didn't fully understand that you would never again be apart of my life.
 I hope you're happy, I hope your kids are wonderful and that your wife treats you well. If google is correct my daughter informed me you're still in Bakersfield and you're still an electrician. I think I found you on Linkdn but thats as far as I took my own search.
  I hope the hate mail I sent in my younger years doesn't hold the weight I intended it to. I was sad and alone. I hope that you understand what a positive role you played in my life. As an adult, I can appreciate that so much more.
 To the man who was once my Step Dad, you did a great job.

How Pinterest is Killing Your Hairstylist..

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Definition of hairstylist

1. :  hairdresser; especially  :  a person who does creative styling of coiffures.  By definition, I do my job. By pinterest standards, you people want a miracle.  My job looks super fun, easy and a lot like "dress up". Some days, it is those things but at the end of every day, it is a job. It is work. I have lots of clients, sometimes I don't remember all of your names, sometimes I forget that you like to be toned, I'm never going to remember what we did three colors ago and I do my best to remember that you have 2 kids, a boy? two boys? shit, twins! How is your new dog? That wasn't you? OH! You had a baby.. divorce? No, new marriage.. thats right.  "Where the fuck does Pinterest come into play?"Let me break it down for you.. YOU ARE NOT GOING TO LOOK LIKE THE MODELS IN THE PICTURE. Chances are, I did not do her hair, she is photoshopped and in perfect lighting and YOU are not HER. YOU are not a mermaid, you are not a rainbow, you are not a unicorn or "green with envy". "Chocolates, Mochas and Cinnamon's" are not shades of color. They are coffee drinks and spices - if you want that, stop at Starbucks before you come see me. (but also, bring me one too!) MOST of my clients pay me to get rid of gray but because Pinterest said it's all the rage, you want me to bleach out your black and make you silver, in one shot. I am not a miracle worker, I am a stylist. Chances are, if you bring me 16 pictures, all of something or nothing the same.. we are going to consult and come up with a game plan. If you don't know what you want and you don't want what's exactly in the picture but you don't know how to put into words what you need from me, I am going to do my best but I am not a mind reader. I am a hair stylist. Do you know what "Rainbow Slush" or whatever the eff those colors all perfect-side by side on the picture you found on Pinterest look like after a couple of washes? MUCK! They look like muck. THEN you're mad me me, because it didn't last. I know, that sometimes the best way to convey what you want to me, is via a picture. But what happened to the good ol' days of bringing in a picture of Jennifer Aniston and understanding that I could color your beautiful tresses  but you would not BE Jennifer Aniston?! Pinterest is what happened. Pinterest came along and allowed you to "pin to a board" titled, "Hair dreams" or "Hair goals" or #imslowlysuckingthesoulfromkristianne .. IDK what your board is called but it should definitely be that hashtag one. Anyway, these boards have given you the ability to be even more indecisive then you already were and has set me up, to mostly fail. Ya'll know, I LOVE the fun, "pop" colors. I love some pink, purple and mostly turquoise.. BUT WHY do you now want me to put it underneath, to never be seen unless your hair is up and in a 45 degree angled pony tail? Also, WHY do you want ALL the colors?!  Pinterest has also been misinforming you. You guys will send me a picture of "sun kissed balayage" .. when really, thats a "rooty" color with some grown out highlights. I know that the internet re-naming these things allows most of us stylist to slap a higher price tag on your pinterest-y needs but you all know, I try my best to keep it real and be reasonably market priced. What I am saying is.. I love you all but I can not make you look like a "Mermaids swirl tail" or any of the other BS the internet is telling you that you should want or need. One last thing: I am not showy. I am not Edward Scissor Hands. Showing me video after video of another stylist cutting someone's hair in a platform style, is not going to make me perform for you. I am never going to be the dramatic, hair flinging, fire burning-hair cut with a torch, stylist.I am Kristi-Ann. The hairstylist you have loved for years. The stylist who will tell you that, "Yes, that cut will not look good but the alternative will!" ... I am the stylist who is going to tell you, "Yeah, I'll turn you Gray but by the time we can get you there and get all your black boxed color off, this "in" look is going to be gone."  Mostly, I want to tell you that I will continue to grow in my profession, I will continue to try but your un-realistic wants and your Pinterest boards are slowly killing me. Someday's, they make me hate my job more then anything in the world. Your Pinterest boards are sucking the hair soul right out of me. Also, to answer those of you who don't already know: No, I don't have a Pinterest. (I did when it first came out but then I realized I was a "Do-er" and not a "pinner" and had to "delete".)I love you all. I appreciate all of you. I appreciate your patience and your understanding of my recent price increase's. I appreciate your love, support and your desire to come to me, despite my foul mouth and the sometimes crass conversations. I hope this made most of you laugh but for real - be nice to your hairstylist. We give our all, 97.6% of the time and we are professionals but we don't know it all- though we try our best to figure it out. <3  

Get it Together Kristi Ann..

The last month or so, I have been itching for change. Scenery, career, style.. weight. Really, I would be happy with any of the above.
 Tonight, slightly buzzed as my husband sleep's sound, I can't help but reflect.
 Feeling incredibly insecure these last few months, I can't help but reflect on the "why's"..
 Let me say first, how incredibly lucky I am, to have the husband I do. Tonight, while he worked hard, I sent him a text that read, "going to have dinner with Jesse and then we will meet you there! Love you!" to which he replied, "Awesome! Love you too!" or something so incredibly tolerant, loving and down right appropriate.
 I can tell you that I would probably be so much more annoyed with my husband if the roles were reversed. Not because I have any reason's to not trust him but because I am crazy insecure.
 Now let me tell you, this blog post isn't fishing for any compliments. So, save that shit for another time.
 Maybe it's just me or maybe it isn't but I am 31 and my life is really freaking incredible. I have family who loves me, friends who are there when I need them, amazing kids, 1.5 mostly-well behaved dogs, an incredible home, a career most people could only dream of and a husband who still, after 6 years looks at me with heart bubbles and tolerates my shenanigans.
 You might be asking,"WTF is wrong with you?!"
 To which I'll answer, "I have no-fucking-clue."
 In theory, I REALLY like me. I would totally want to be friends with me, if I weren't me. Sounds totally narcissistic but I am kind of cool.
 Then I glance in the mirror and I see ME.. the ME that I know. The petty, self sabotaging, slightly pudgy, almost mid life crisis bound, smile lines and crow feet, un even eye brows-me. The me that is so unreasonably insecure, it's kind of sickening. I try to justify these feelings by saying, "it's cause I'm a woman!" or, "maybe I am just being hormonal.." but to be really honest, I don't think it's either of those.
 I think that somewhere, deep down, stability and validation will always be a struggle for me.
 It is no secret that I had a pretty shitty up-bringing. It is also no secret that I try really hard not to use that as an excuse for the person I am today. Positive or Negative, I have made the conscious choice to be a decent human despite my past.
 So why is it so hard to just be "content"?
 Do other people struggle with this feeling? I can't be the only one.. I just wonder why? What is it, that makes me this way?  I am positive that a well qualified psychologist and extensive therapy is the only sure fire way to get an answer but I need feedback! Is it female accentuated, do men share these feelings? Is it an "age" centric thing? Like, do all my 30 something year old friends struggle with these feelings?
 Is it seasonal? Weather centered? Am I just sunny and warm weather deprived?!
 These feelings aren't only limited to my looks either. It's really, the whole fucking package. Like, I really feel like I am a HORRIBLE mother 90% of the time. For real, who thought it to be a good idea to let me raise other humans? I genuinely, sometimes, mostly feel bad for Sean. I wonder if he ever questions this choice.. Always, self doubt in this brain of mine.
Anyway, I don't really expect any of you to have an answer as to why I am me.. I just really needed to get this out. To word vomit anywhere that isn't inside my head. LOGICAL me knows how good I have it, how happy I should reflectively be and how appreciative I can be. Irrational me can't help but over ride some of those feelings though. (insert philosophical emoji face here.)

"All I want for Christmas is a Great Dane Puppy!!!"

..was my reply to my loving, patient, generous, did I mention SO handsome - Ginger, when he asked me what I would like as my Christmas gift this year...

 I have NO ragrets. (Not even one letter..)

 So, if you have a weak or queazy stomach, you should not read further. If you think poop and vomit stories are HILARIOUS, then this blog post is for you! You're welcome. 

 Day One with the catastrophe that is Sophie McOaferson was uneventful. She mostly excited/anxious pee'd and I smiled, high on the excitement of finally having my Great Dane. For the record, I have been asking for "her" since we closed escrow on this house.

 Day Two: We were at Universal Studio's and she was in the dog run all day. This was EASILY the best day.

 Day Three: This is where shit gets real.. I mean it, she shit.. in the hallway and my Ginger was the only one home to clean it up. I was SO super sad about that.

 Day Four: This is where it gets gross. I had let her out of her kennel first thing in the A.M. and then I fed her. I let her roam the backyard for a good 30 before I let her back in. She was just hanging out with me in the bathroom, until she wasn't anymore. Before I could register her lack of presence, Riley came running in my room, exclaiming, "MOMMY!! SOPHIE POOPED ON THE TILE!". Bro, I got this! Poop, on the tile? She's SO smart!

 I walk out of my room and into the living room when Cooper catches my attention. In a 2500 sq. ft house, my not yet so sharp child is hovering over the mountain of poop in the dining area as though someone other then me might have any interest in said pile.. only he's dry heaving. "huuuugh, huuuugh, huuuuugh". 

 I yelled at him to step away from the poop and that if he threw up I was going to lose MY shit. Then it happened.. he puked. "BLLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEGGGGHHHHHHHH.." and just ten minutes before I had to leave my house to be 15 minutes late to work. Thats just how I roll..

 So, all is well after I spanked her, walked her to the back door and put her out. I leave for work and leave my woe's here at the house. Not an hour later, Sean text me to tell me she had poop'ed again and now she barks at her poop, on the tile, in the house. Sweet! The rest of the day was tiring and we were all in bed at a decent time.

 Day Five: SHE MADE IT ELEVEN HOURS IN AND OUT OF THE HOUSE WITHOUT ACCIDENT! Oh my geez, I was so excited and so was she that she pee'd on a rug. /;

 Day Six: TODAY!! TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY SHE MADE IT ACCIDENT FREE!!! We had no poop, pee, OR vomit in this house from a dog, today!

 Now, ya'll are probably thinking, "what a seriously, dumb thing to blog about.." and I will agree with you. However, I am incredibly excited about my dog. 

 She's the Miley Cyrus version of a dog, for sure. She enters every room head first and front legs last. She's a wrecking ball in every sense. She isn't very smart, I don't even think she understands the english that is coming out of my mouth but I don't even care! I think I have Puppy Love. 

I Just Really Miss My Mom..

 So this week, I have been reminded of how kinda-sucky it is to not have a Mom. Like, a real, she's all mine-kind of mom. Most of you know that my Mom wasn't a great mom.. sometimes she wasn't even a good mom but she was MY mom.
 My mom and I had a roller coaster of a relationship. We had a lot of lows, with some sprinkled in highs. We fought hard but we loved hard.
 This week I can't help but be envious of my friends who have great moms and even better relationships with their mom's. I have friends who are off on wonderful vacations with their moms, friends who post about their mom's being their hero's and their biggest advocates. I also have a friend who recently lost her own mom - to see the loving things she had to say about her mom and the love she had for her grandchildren made me ache for her.
 My mom didn't get the chance to meet her grandchildren but I know she would have loved them, so hard. She would be present and she would be so accepting of each and every one of them. I know this to be true because she had a lot of guilt and regret that she couldn't wait to try and make up for.
 It's different for me, you can say things like, "Well, you have DeeDee.." and thats true. I actually have lots of strong woman in my life who play a dominant role but it isn't the same. I think that somewhere in me, I know that even if my mom were still here, we wouldn't be off on vacations together and she wouldn't be my hero. In a way, I guess I just keep mourning the loss of my mom but also the mom I wanted but didn't have. Pretty selfish, huh?
 Kinda like, I didn't like the one I had, so I am going to miss who she wasn't all at the same time.
 Though she had MANY faults and sometimes I find that coping with the loss of her is best when I remember to list all of them, so as not to miss her as much as I should will make the pain less. FYI, this doesn't help at all. She also had a few redeeming qualities. Some, that as I get older I see in myself.
 My mom was funny, she was witty, she was quick lipped and never missed the opportunity to make someone else laugh at her own expense or sometimes even better, their own. She was giving and despite all my own faults she loved me. She always took the time to tell me just how much she loved me and how proud of me she really was.
As I type this, with tiny tears rolling down my cheeks I can still here her, clear as day telling me, "Babygirl, I am SO proud of you! You are my hero and my greatest accomplishment!"
 At the ripe old age of 22, I didn't exactly understand how much those words would mean until the chance to hear them again were gone.
 I spent the first few years after she passed being angry. I was SO angry. Angry that she left when I needed her most.. though I was married and technically an "adult", I was a baby having a baby! I needed my Mommy! Then when I got divorced, I felt so alone. More alone then when she died. So many nights I wished I could have called her, because she would have had the right words even if she couldn't solve my problems.
 So many milestones that she should have been here for and she just wasn't, left me so mad.
 Today, I am mostly balanced and stable but after a week like this one, I can't help but pine for a mom, MY mom.. Someone who wants me around just as much as I want her to be here. Someone to love every part of me, faults and all. A mom who knows that because of her, I am me.
 If you're lucky to still have your mom and you have made it to the end of this terribly long pitty-party-post, even if she isn't the best mom, a great mom or sometimes she falls short of being a good mom.. take the time to appreciate what she is to you. It may be hard to see now but she's doing the best she can with what she has, even if it doesn't meet your standard.
 Appreciate the small things, the things that seem meaningless. The compliments, the hugs, maybe even the criticism. She loves you.
 Take it from the girl who didn't have much and didn't appreciate it while I had it - I'd give most anything to have it back. Because even though she wasn't outstanding, stellar, great or good she was mine. She loved me more then I could ever understand. <3

As A Parent, Are You Ever Enough?

This morning my "Mom guilt" is strong. We have an event at the end of the month (that I can't really go into specifics about) that I would love to be able to take all my children to. However, finances and schedules don't really permit for all four but just two to go.
 I've exhausted my resources trying to figure out a way to make it work and the only way its possible is to stretch myself beyond my "means".
 Our finances have never been made public to our kids and it's really no secret anymore that I grew up poor. It's also abundantly clear that because of my upbringing I try my hardest to make sure my kids experience so much!
 This year was a tough one.
 Aubrey has the opportunity to go to New York for her 8th grade trip. Last year when we found out about this trip I knew that there was no way we could afford our 1/2 of her trip. After many of conversations with Sean and Jeanette, we just couldn't do it.  We didn't have the extra cash just laying around or the ability to make the monthly payment. The amount it would cost to send her on this trip, we could afford to all go somewhere as a family.
 In this house, we had to say "No". Which was hard and heart breaking.
 LUCKILY, for Aubrey, between her Mom and her Grandma, she gets to go. I can't even begin to express how thankful I am and how excited I am for her.. but it still leaves my heart sad that we couldn't help send her.

 This year Aubrey also asked for a real cell phone. She thinks it's because we don't trust her that she doesn't have one. Oh sweetie, of all the kids, she is the most trustworthy at the moment. But try explaining to a kid that the 5.65 I pay a month for her gizmopal is just a tad more financially feesable then the 30 dollar smart phone she wants..
 We have been fortunate enough, many times to take our kids to do amazing things. For YEARS we exhausted ourselves with Disney passes, a trip to Hawaii, San Francisco, Reno, Arizona and PLENTY of expensive day trips. Never about the money but more the time and effort. The memories..
 Recently, my highly emotional eleven year old accused me of loving her little brothers more then I love her and her sister. What a blow that was.. How hard that hurt my heart.
 I try, even when they aren't in our home to show them I love them. I think about them. I don't love them any more or less then their brothers and I felt like, in that moment.. everything I have done is for nothing.
 I know this is total normal kid behavior and I didn't turn into a blubbering idiot when this accusation was thrown at me. I actually was just the opposite..
 Here's where my mom guilt comes in. We have done lots of things with our girls, separate from the boys. "Big kid trips" if you will.. and when they aren't home we try and make up for those trips by doing things with the boys, also apart from the girls because 1.) we can't stop living life every other week but also they need to know that our life continues to move forward with them too.
 Having a blended house hold really is hard.
 We have had many talks with the girls about how lucky they are, how they get to do things with Mom and Brandon just as much as they do with us. How they don't include their brothers in those things and that they shouldn't feel like they have to. Also, that they can't expect us to not do fun things when they aren't here..
 But when is it enough?
 Why do I still feel guilty for wanting to do things with either or sets of children?
 As a parent, do you ever feel like you have enough to give to your children? I don't mean just financially.. its everything. Finances, attention, boundaries, love, discipline, praise?
 Is this the pentacle of parenthood? Because this does not at all feel rewarding. It feels like failure..

Being Strong is Hard..

The last couple days I have been really sad. Unexplainably sad.. But I put on a happy face and do what I need to do...
 Today, Riley lost his first tooth. Man, that kid has so patiently waited for this day. He has asked me several times over the last two years when that would happen and WHY hasn't it happened to him yet?!
 I was SO excited to be able to pull that thing out! Wiggly teeth seriously gross me out. As soon as it was out and we could find the tooth (it was small and it got lost in one of the rugs) he asked me to take a picture and send it to Dad! As requested, I snapped the cutest picture of my baby and off into mass messaging it went, next to instagram and by default, Facebook.
 My next step was to call Jason, like all milestones and minor events.. it's a knee jerk reaction. Only to be slapped in the face once again that he would not be there to answer.
 This Mommy lost it. Out of nowhere, I had this overwhelming wave of emotion wash over me and all I could do was cry. I cried that my baby is growing up and I cried that once again, Jason is missing out on something so minor but so big at the same time.
  I know that these posts and these feelings are all so redundant but I guess thats the way of grieving, right?
 We put on our happy faces and went to celebrate with friends for a 7 year olds party. (Thanks for being born Eizen VonArx!)

Sometimes I Adult So Hard..

.. and sometimes I don't adult at all.
 So, this grief class I am in, is coming to an end. As I near the end, my homework assignments are a lot harder then when I started the class. This week I have to write a letter to Jason. I have to say "Goodbye" to the pain that is associated with his loss.. ironically, Monday the 18th marks the one year anniversary of his death.
 As you can imagine, I haven't done my homework for last week.. and this week's class was canceled.. which gives me plenty of time to continue to procrastinate.
 I should be writing my letter instead of writing in my blog.. All six of you who read this are definitely my top priority right now.
 Almost a whole year has passed since I have gotten to hear my friend's voice or see him in person and I am not ready just yet, to say goodbye to the pain I feel because of the lack of his presence in our life.
 Also, because of this class and because I have been an emotional basket case these last couple of days.. I have been reflecting on the OTHER major losses in my life. One in particular stands out and has been recirculating in my head the last few days..
 Why is losing a friend, so hard? I have lots of friends that I don't talk to on any sort of regular basis.. and sometimes I go MONTHS without contacting them or vice versa and all is right in the world.. but the solid motion of ending a friendship, why is that so hard to let go of?
 This particular friendship, was a friendship I thought would last a lifetime. I can't put into words here why it ended, or who was wrong.. or if their was even really a wrong.. I guess, in every situation we want to feel better by being the wronged, right?
 Anyway, I have tried to tell myself the last couple of years that I am better off without this friend in my life.. and though that may be true, it does not make it hurt any less. I have found myself making mental tally marks of all the times I was present for this friend.. of all the times I stepped up instead of stepping out only to realize that I am only making myself feel worse.
 What does it matter how many times I showed up to be a "friend"? What does it matter how many times she didn't?
 I recently commented about how, when Jason passed, this person didn't reach out to me for a solid five days and when she finally did, it was only to ask what happened to him. It felt like a slap in the face.. No contact from said person for seven months and then BOOM! Out of nowhere with a bullshit text message. (Obviously, I've let go of THAT anger..)
 Anyway, I need to let it go, I know. I need to accept that I won't ever get the apology I think I deserve from said person and I need to be ok with that. For my own self.. I need to accept that I can not, nor do I want to change the situation between myself and said non-friend.. So, I shouldn't keep hashing it out in my brain grapes.
 I know that I am not the only person who experiences these feelings when it's time to out grow a friend because I know that I have friends, who are human. Hell, some of you reading this are probably friends who have outgrown me or vice versa.. but I am just so fabulous, you're holding on and reading my drama! (kinda just kidding..) Sometimes though, when you're going through these feelings, it can be pretty lonely and that sucks.
 What it all boils down to is that I super need to accept that I am really happy with where our life has landed.. right here, even with all the bumps, mountains and terrain we have endured the last couple of years.
 I have an amazing husband who works REALLY hard for us, four beautiful, happy, smart, sometimes smelly but totally worth it-children, I have a great home and the ability to provide for our family. I have an amazing group of friends who ARE here, who ARE present and who have supported all of us in our up's and down's.
 I miss Jason terribly, for a lot of reasons. I was lucky we managed a pretty decent friendship.. and missing that on top of all the other stuff that makes my heart "feel" things is pretty crappy.
 I guess I'll end this here.. I probably won't go do my homework, to be honest.. I'll probably put it off till Sunday but it felt really good to get that other stuff off my chest and into something that I can sorta make sense of.  (:
 <3

Sometimes, It Isn't About Having An Opinion At All..

This week has been a tough one. This week has been exhausting and I am so glad this week is almost over.
This week, I have learned that being emotionally invested in someone is more work then I anticipated. This week, I learned some serious lessons.
 I learned that I can be a friend without an opinion. Though hard, I can stand by someone's side through the thick and thin. I can put judgment aside even when the world can't, I can still see the good in someone's heart. I have come to understand through my own poor choices that not one of us is perfect. This has been super fucking hard.
  The first part of my week I spent seriously questioning my judgment. My choice in people.. My, "WTF radar" was crazy on edge.
 I had to step back and assess my situation from an outside view. I had to remind myself that sometimes friendship's are hard and I had to tell myself over and over that I wouldn't want my people to turn their back on me in any time of need.
 What I have come to learn is that when someone makes a mistake and everyone wants to remind them, criticize them or snub them, sometimes, the one left standing beside them doesn't have to agree with them but can hold their hand without pointing a finger and shaming them.
 For a hot second, I worried what people might think of me, their opinion of how my support may jeopardize my moral compass.
 The lesson I learned is that though I do care what people think of me, I can't let that stand in the way of being present for my people. I have to trust that anyone who knows me, knows my heart and knows my worth as much as I know theirs.
 The first part of this week I almost went into "self preservation mode". You know the one, where you sever the limb instead of taking the time to fix it. I am really good at this mode. I can walk away and not look back, without skipping a beat! I'm super cold like that..
 However, my husband kept me on my path, he reminded me that there are points and purposes and that not everything is about ME.
 So, to the people I know and love.. all of you. You know me, you know I am going to call you on your bullshit. Thats why you chose me as a friend. Thats why as family, you still choose to talk to me. I am learning that I am not always going to like your choices, I will not always understand why you do the things you do.. but I love you, I will stand by you and I will do my best to put my judgments aside. I will always try to be the friend that I hope you will be for me when I make mistakes. I will be your friend and shoulder your burdens with you because thats what friends do.
 This week, I learned that even though being emotionally invested in someone is super, duper  fucking hard, being a friend is not.
 I don't blog this for a gold star or recognition.. I blog to remind others that sometimes putting your opinion's in your pockets and standing next to a person regardless of your own belief may be the difference that someone needs. You might not change the world but you may be a positive factor in an otherwise shitty situation.

No More Counting Days..

 Here we are, past our largest milestone, with no need to count down to anything anymore. Here we are, living our days the same as before.
 I want to say "Thank You" to all of our friends and family who came to our home to help us celebrate a monumental day for our family of six. Thank you to everyone who pitched in to make it great, who brought gifts when it wasn't necessary and those who showed up and showed support. We love you all.
 As most of you know, I have been attending a grief recovery group for the last five weeks. In this group we've touched on how the things we say, can impact a person.. even if we don't mean for it to and how some words of comfort, don't bring comfort at all.
 I bring this up because so many times before, during and after the adoption it was said to my husband what a "Real Man" he was for doing this for Riley (and sometimes, Me.)
 My husband (whom I lovingly refer to as my ginger) is SO many things but "MORE" or "REAL" of a "MAN" he is not, for the sole action of adopting a child that was always "ours."
 Sean is an amazing provider. He provides us with love, encouragement, strength, praise and his presence. He is also funny, smart, charismatic, loving but also, lovable. My husband is handsome.
 My husband has ALWAYS been a REAL MAN. (Crazy, right?)
 Let me back up for a minute though.. You see, the man I fell in love with was already great man. He was an amazing father to his two girls, he was a hard worker and a great friend. What was MORE was that he could be both of those things to Riley and me.
 From the start, Sean treated Riley as though he had always been a part of his life. He stepped in and changed dirty diapers, he spent countless hours awake at night so I could sleep, he cared for my child while I worked. In most cases.. he's a far more patient parent then I could ever be. He was a real man for me, from the very start. Sean has always been Riley's second Dad, so much so, that Riley doesn't remember a time when his "Seany" wasn't here.
  Now let me fast forward. For all of Jason's short comings he was a great father. Jason did not leave this world leaving Riley feeling like he was a burden or unwanted, that is for sure. So there was no metaphorical plate for Sean to step up to. Jason's absence was a series of events, yes.. but I do not think he purposely left his son. Riley will ALWAYS know how much BOTH of his daddy's have loved and do love him.
 So, for those that have said what a "real man Sean is to take on someone else's child".. though I am sure this is mostly generational and not meant to sound as absurd as it does.. It does not bid well as a compliment. In fact, it's almost demeaning to him and us. What was he before this life event? Has he been a "fake" man for the last five and a half years? What about the years before he "took on" my child? Do the seven he spent before us not count at all?
 I love my ginger, I love this family and I love the effort we have both given to each others children. I love that I can count on my ginger-bearded husband for any walk through our life. I can count on him to be a great dad, I can count on him to be an amazing husband and I know his heart has always been as loving as it is today.
 I love that we have blended our lives seamlessly and though it isn't always easy, he makes my life easier.
  I'm sure that this statement said to my husband over and over is mostly a response to not knowing the right words to say at all.
 So to my husband, I want to say.. I love you, I am thankful for you and I have always thought of you as a real man. I am lucky to know you, to be your wife and your side kick. I am a better person because you are mine and I am yours. Thank you for ALWAYS loving Riley and me, for allowing me to love whole heartedly our girls and for giving me Cooper, I am positive he is the universe's way of trying to teach me patience. Thank you for unifying our family because Riley asked you to. Thank you, for wanting to be his Daddy - no matter the title in front of it. Step Dad, Bonus dad, Seany dad or now, Daddy -here on Earth.. I love every part of who you are and why you are the person you are.
 (I made it a whole blog post without an obscene word, all for you, babe.)

#FiveDays..

It feels like the last year of my life has been measured by days, months, markers and milestones.
 In the last ten months I have doubted myself as a person and as a Mom. I have been my worst enemy, my biggest critic and at times I have felt like I might just lose my mind.
 I sit here today, content. With lots of tears, hard work, self reflection, words of advice from just about everyone and therapy for 1/2 of the members in our house.. we are on the road to mending our very, broken hearts.
 It has been awhile since I have blogged.. I have been busy with lots of stuff and things. This last week though, I was asked some very personal questions about our dealings and adoption. Nothing that made me uncomfortable and certainly no criticism.. but because I was asked these questions.. I thought I might share them with the rest of you, who might be wondering the same thing. Here they are:
 1.) Why?
 Well this one is easy. The biggest "Why" is because Riley ASKED for this. Without prompting, without prodding.. Our child sought the knowledge he needed and wanted about sharing a "daddy" with his siblings and with counsel, we thought it to be the best decision for our house.
 My Why is the comfort and stability that my husband brings to this equation. Riley was very blessed to have two loving, nurturing fathers for 6 years and sadly, that number has dwindled to just one.. However, he is a great man for the "job". I find comfort in knowing that if something were to ever happen to me, Riley would have a parent here who knows my wishes and wants and he would have stability in an unsettling time.
 2.) Are you going to change his name?
 Yes. For so many reason's but again because Riley asked. He actually asked to change his whole name to Jacob Randall Ehart and I said No. Mainly because he isn't a Jacob, he is a Riley. Which, yes, I can hear you all saying, "but he isn't an Ehart either, He's an Ashworth." So i'll break this down too.
 For simplicity reason's, changing Riley's name makes sense. One day, when the funds are right we would like to travel with our kids. We would like to obtain passports, ect. and take them somewhere, anywhere.. before they are grown. If Riley is an Ehart, there is less documentation for me to acquire, keep track of and explain in every way.
 For unity. Remember, up there ^, where I have said a couple times that Riley ASKED for this? Riley asked for this because he wants to fit in, to belong, to identify. In his 7 year old heart he wants to be apart of this crazy family and I am learning by watching him.. that he doesn't want to tell his story the sad way anymore. This isn't to say he is forgetting his Daddy Jason, infact, its the opposite. We talk about Daddy Jason all the time and how Daddy Jason is still his Daddy in Heaven.
 Nothing is permanent besides Death (and my shitty blues clues tattoo.) but when Riley is 18, he will have the option to change his name back to Ashworth if he so chooses, Sean and I will both support him in that choice.
 3.) Why aren't you hyphenating?
 For the love of all that is Holy, this child has been through enough! Riley Fox Ashworth-Ehart sounds like it should have "and associates" at the end. My seven year old is not a law firm, a widow or an identity crisis.. He is a seven year old boy who is OK with being the same as the rest of us. Besides, remember I like things simple? Every-Single-Legal-Document would have to be written out as Riley Fox Ashworth-Ehart.. If you have ever purchased a home, I rest my case here.
4.) Is he excited?
 Our entire family is excited. Though it may not be visible from the outside, because, well, were pretty good at pretending that we have our shit together.. this has been a tough year for all of us. The girls have had to face a lot and be strong in so many ways, Riley had to deal with a loss that no child should have too and as parents we have done our best to side line and prepare for all the storms while doing our best to protect everyone involved. WE ARE ALL OVER THE MOON about this life event and we can't wait to party with all of you.
Thats pretty much the just of it. I hope breaking it down for you, helps you guys to understand where we are as a family. Riley is far more resilient then I could have ever imagined him to be.. but he's still a seven year old boy, wanting what everyone else has. He wants what any kid in his situation would want. He doesn't have to choose which parent he loves more, he isn't being pitted against anyone in an ugly battle. He is a boy who has had to face adversity young and who is finding positive in what would other wise be, a shitty, negative, horrible situation.
 Riley loves his Daddy Jason and he's also, always loved his Daddy Sean. He doesn't remember a life without either of them. He's a great kid, all of my kids are.
 So in closing, were happy, were mending and soon, we will be the #EhartPartyOfSix.

Even Mommy's Break..

Two hours ago we should have been landing in Seattle for an adult weekend away. We should be well into our trip up to Canada as I type this but we aren't. I am sitting at the table typing away as Riley and Cooper play video games with a friend who is sleeping over.. because we stayed home.
 The decision to cancel our trip was mutual and I am trying to be ok with it, since it was mostly my anxiety and fear that lead us in this direction.
 Cooper is having surgery in 19 days and I have to keep him germ free and healthy until then. So, the thought of even taking three days away and leaving him in someone else's hands made me cringe and lose sleep. Blame it on my control issues and I know we have time to take trips later.. (this doesn't make me any less sad that we aren't going today.)
 It has been 9 months since Jay passed. Somedays we do ok and others not so much. I realized not to long ago though that I have spent so much time hovering over Riley that I haven't stepped back to look at my own emotional situation.. and man, what a shit show that is.
 Here is what I realized. I need help because this Mommy is broken too.
 I noticed that I am struggling when it comes to parenting Riley. I don't want to yell, I don't want to take things away, I don't want to punish him because he's been through a lot! Logically, I know this isn't ok. Logically, I know that my seven year old can see right through this disadvantage and often runs with it. Logically, I know that every kid needs structure and discipline no matter whats going on. However, my heart isn't on that page yet and I don't know how to get it there.
 Don't get me wrong, sometimes he pushes far enough and I get on him.. but then I spend hours in my room, in tears because I don't want to yell, scream and discipline. Are you see'ing my cycle yet?
 I am see'ing a therapist now, the same therapist as Riley. I am being open about this because maybe someone else will see this and understand that it's ok to talk to someone. It's ok to be broken and it's ok to want help. I feel like the stigma that surrounds therapy or anti depressants is ludicrous, so here I am.. sharing me, with you. ( for the record, I am not on antidepressants because I would like that to be a last resort.. however, I am not against them.)
 In therapy I have learned that I am angry with Jay (which I have known..) but how deep my anger really goes is scary and something I need to come to terms with so that I can be able to let it go.
 I am not angry with him because of our divorce or the hate we spent spewing at each other for years.. but more because of how he left us, in this situation and how broken all the pieces are. Including my own..
 You see, Riley isn't a burden to me. He never has been and there have been several times I had to step up and be his everything. I have always done so because being his mommy and being a decent one has always been my priority. This time though, I feel like Jay broke us both and those pieces can't be put back together which makes me angry. I am angry at every milestone he isn't here for, I am angry that he is missing holidays and birthdays but mostly I'm angry that I can't tell him I am angry with him.
 I am working through these things but I am also learning what triggers them. Never in a million years would I have guessed that looking at Riley and see'ing a facial expression or a certain tone could rile my insides. Never would I have guessed that see'ing so much of Jason in Riley would make my heart ache and miss him and I would have never guessed it would make me mad. Yep, it makes me mad!
 Mad that for the rest of his life he will hear things like, "You look just like your Daddy.." or "Your Daddy would have been so proud of you for..". I learned that this makes me mad because these are things I grew up hearing and unless you have ever been compared to your dead parent, you don't really understand the proper response to these statements(their isn't a proper response, ever.) ... The responses to these statements are usually awkward silence, a half assed "thanks"  or a "really?" but what you feel inside is hurt. Inside, you feel a void that can't be filled. Inside you ache because you realize in that moment how much you're missing because of the absence of that person. (Remember a few months back, I blogged about how Riley's loss was probably going to mix up my own mommy and daddy issues?! .. Well here they are, folks! Grab some popcorn, it's going to get good.)
 I know that anger is part of the grieving process and I feel like I am spending a lot of time in this part of the process, so therapy will be good for me. I know that working through this with someone else is also beneficial for my own mental health.
 My therapist gave me a homework assignment this week. I have to write a letter to Jason. I have to put the things in my heart on real paper and tell him why I am mad at him. I have to tell him how his absence is affecting my ability to parent, how his absence pisses me off and how this life isn't being very fair. I have to write this letter as though I have the ability to hand it to him. For whatever reason, it's harder then I thought it would be.
 It's cathartic to put my feelings here. It's comforting to know that when I want to, I can scroll through our progress of the last nine months and smile, cry or embrace some of the shit we overcame. (the week from Hell, when the water heater broke and I stepped in warm, runny dog shit.. all in one day?!) I can imagine that once I start my letter, it will also be cathartic.. but getting started is a struggle. It has to be done by Monday. (insert procrastination face here.)
 Aside from the anger, I am getting through the rest of my days just fine.
 I am so thankful for Sean. Thankful to have such a loving, understanding husband who can distinguish between my love for Jason and being in love with Jason (which I wasn't anymore and hadn't been for a long time.) I am thankful that my husband knows without me having to reassure him that me being sad over Jason's absence is because of the presence he had in our life and that Sean misses him to. I am thankful he supports my need for therapy and offer's encouraging words.
 Just like the other storms I have endured, I will make it through this one too and so will Riley. He has some strong parents left here to get him through this crazy stuff.. and I am glad that I know myself well enough to know that I can't fix me on my own, which means I can't keep strong for him until I fix my own stuff.
 Being a parent is hard. Always. If you don't have kids yet and you think it's a walk in the park.. You're a dumb dumb. Though being a parent is hard, being a broken parent to a broken kid is harder then you could ever imagine. Being a broken parent to a broken kid and holding it together is like walking into a gun fight with a butter knife without the ability to hide behind someone or something.
 We will figure it out.. probably not in any kind of timely manner.. but we will none the less. (:

To My Daughters..

Tonight as we drove home from Aunt Kasie's house, you asked Dad and me who has been harder to raise.. boys or girls. Dad told you that none of it is easy and you all had your pro's and con's.
 My answer was different, my answer is more complicated. My bond with you was not as easy to form as others and took far more patience on my end.. and lot's of those day's I had very little patience at all. The weeks were short but some of those days in the beginning were long.
 There is something I want you to know though and I mean this from the very bottom of my heart. I have loved you from the very beginning. I knew I loved you before I knew I was in love with your Daddy. I knew that my life wouldn't be easier with you in it but my life would be more complete than I ever imagined.
 In the beginning, you two held me to an un achievable standard. You held me to the standard of your Mommy, something that I will never, ever live up to and something I can't ever be. Do not mistake those words or take them as a statement of, "I'm not your mom nor do I want to be." But I will never be your Mommy. I will never know what it was like to grow you or carry you in my womb. I won't ever miss the sounds of your first cries because I was not there for those moments. However, I am so lucky to be an addition to your Mommy. I am so lucky to be your "Momma K", or as you so lovingly refer to me, your "bonus" Mom.
 I have been blessed to be apart of so many of your milestones.
 Madison, I got to help get you ready for your first day of Kindergarten, I have had the pleasure of being present at your awards ceremonies, your parent teacher conferences and we have had so much fun building our own family traditions.
 Aubrey, I had the pleasure of doing your hair and make up for your very first dance, we have had very meaningful conversations about my childhood, the grandparents you'll never know and I have also had the pleasure of being present for so much of your schooling milestones.
 I have been a fill in for sick nights, I have cleaned your vomit out of carpet, I have shuffled you to Dr. appointments, dentist appointments, play dates, back to school nights, science fairs, dances, sleep overs and countless vacations and even our trips to the local store are mostly enjoyable. What's most valuable to me though is how much I have gotten to watch you grow. I have watched you both come into your own, to have your own real thoughts and personalities.. you both are becoming beautiful, respectful, smart little women.
 What I want you to know and understand more then anything is that even though those beginning day's were hard for me I know they were just as hard for you.
 You guys went from being a family of four to being shuffled from parent to parent. You barely had time to adjust to that and really enjoy your daddy before Riley and I came into the picture. Then came Cooper! It was a lot of change, for all of us.
 The last five years have been fun, challenging and exhausting but worth every minute. I wouldn't trade any of you for the world, I would move mountains for all four of you and I can't imagine my life without any one of you. I am thankful for you, each and every one of you and I love you all so much, for so many reasons.
  Aubrey, you are so talented in so many ways. You are athletic and artistic, you have a beautiful singing voice and your confidence is admirable. You're so smart and beautiful beyond words. I am enjoying this part of your life and watching you learn how to build lasting friendships with your peers.
 Madison.. Oh Madison. You are also beautiful beyond words and incredibly intelligent. You are strong willed and independent. I pray that those two qualities take you down positive paths in your life. You make me laugh and listening to you talk tonight about how you would do anything you can to protect your brothers made my heart smile.
 My life is better with you two in it. My heart is full and I am looking forward to being present for so many more of your milestones..
 Our life might seem messy to a lot of people from the outside looking in, Hell.. some days it looks messy from the inside to.. but one thing is for sure, I love this life of ours, I love our family of 6 (8 if you count these mangy mutts).. but mostly, I love you. All of you..