She's turning one

I don't normally blog about my children. I'm not sure why I don't, mainly because I set this blog up to help me maintain some semblance of myself in the insanity of young motherhood. Nevertheless, this is important. My baby, my last baby, is turning one. This means that technically, in 16 days she will no longer be my "baby". She is walking now, has been for about a week or so. She says words, Mama, Dada, By-by, cat, up and hi. She has the most amazing blue eyes you have ever seen and her hair gets longer and blonder each day.

When my son, who is also my first born, turned one I couldn't wait. Not because I wanted the baby days to pass but because I was excited about what was next. It's exciting to see your children grow, gain new abilities and learn new things. The problem is in a blink of an eye I went from hearing, "It's a boy!" to having conversations with my "baby" about Lightening McQueen, ice cream that's too cold and which pair of shoes he is going to wear today (frogy or Elmo). It happened fast, faster then I could get my wits around and now in what seems to be an even shorter blink my baby girl is turning one.

So this time I'm sad. I'm sad because the baby days are over. I'm sad because in a very short period of time I will never again see the look of an innocent baby drifting off to sleep while sucking on a bottle. (I just love this, they look so peaceful and innocent.) I've been mourning this being my last child for a while now. I'm going to miss the excitement of pregnancy, a newborn baby sleeping on my chest and all the firsts that happen in that first year.

Don't get me wrong, the independence that I am slowly getting a taste of again is sweet. I do look forward to the day when I can go to the bathroom and not have to worry that there is something I missed that my baby can choke on. I look forward to no more diapers, formula and teething. But right now, as this chapter closes and another one opens I'm just sad. This past year went by faster than a blink, it really is true that it goes by faster with subsequent children.

While I would give anything for some of the time back I know that can't happen. Instead, as my birthday wish (did you know it is my birthday too?) I wish that when they are 18 and truly don't need me anymore that I will still be able to remember what matters about the baby years. When they are 18 and I am 41 I want to remember the coos, first smiles and first time they said "Mama". I want to remember when I was needed and when being "Mom" meant the most.

You had to know it would happen

First the hilarious "Dick in a Box" and now this:



To be fair, there are others that did similar spoofs like "Box in a box"



They both made me laugh, "Tits" more than "Box", but anything that can get me to laugh these days deserves a blog entry.

Invisible

I've come to the conclusion that I am invisible. At first I thought maybe I'm just unappreciated by my husband and while that may be true I figure I must be invisible as well. Invisible to my family (who seem to prefer my brothers to me) and to my friends whom I adore but for some reason don't remember I exist. Either that or they don't care, I'm opting to believe the first reason because the 2nd is too painful.

For the life of me I can't figure out why this is. I'm always there for the people around me, I very often put their needs before mine. In fact I'd say I do this 99% of the time yet no one seems to notice.

Why do I make an effort to stay up late and "get in the mood" when after a highly uneventful (for me) romp in the sack my husband pulls out his book and complains on and on because I asked him to get up and get M cough syrup before he went to bed. Am I really so horrible for asking him to do something for me? Am I that awful for wanting to go to bed at a time that is late for me? Am I that fucking evil for asking my husband to get me some chap stick while he is on his way to the kitchen? I could give 3 shits if I ever have sex with my husband again so I consider my efforts a favor to him. Sex hurts me, physically hurts me. On top of that there are too many issues in my marriage preventing a good sex life so I consider my effort pretty damn grand. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME THAT I CAN'T EVEN GET MY HUSBAND TO CARE, EVEN A LITTLE?!?

I've spent at least 3 years talking with some friends over the internet. I figure we know each other well, despite the fact that I have never spoken on the phone with any of them or met them in person. The truth of the matter is I hate the phone. Aside from that I am happy to meet any of them so why isn't anyone interested? I care greatly yet it doesn't appear to be returned. What am I doing wrong? I'm not a mean person, serial killer or weirdly harmful in any way. The only thing I can assume is that the media has them all so terrified of things that don't exist with in my religion that they don't want to touch me with a 10 foot pole.
I'm thinking of a mother who..."WHAT THE FUCK ABOUT ME?!?" Invisible, I must be invisible.

Why is it that my brothers have their college tuition fully paid for yet the only way I can get anything above minimum wage is with my own commissions? Why do you offer a job that my SIL can do from home and then tell me you have nothing? Why do they matter and I don't?

Invisible. I'm invisible...because the other options are just too painful.

Here's to bringing sexy back!

Uncovering Myself

I've recently come to realize I have spent my entire life dependant on one person or another. I moved out at a young age and got married straight away. Got divorced and have basically spent my entire life relationship hopping. Even if the relationship wasn't romantic I was still somehow dependant on another person. I look to them for approval for nearly everything and often found my own "opinions" changing based on who I was with at the time.

Waking up realizing you are alone brings a harsh reality if you are like me. It's cold, alone and you don't know what to do with yourself or your life.

My identity has been stripped, only it wasn't MY identity in the first place. So what am I left with? Nothing but myself. Everything else that held me up is gone and it's refreshing in a scary, naked sort of way.

My instant reaction is to hide myself in my children and let them define me. Become "Mom" and nothing but, after all they are all I have left of "me" anyway. Only this time its different, this time I'm on a mission to uncover who I am. It's exciting, like a treasure hunt, and each thing I find brings the same emotions that purchasing a fabulous new pair of shoes at a bargin price brings.

I want to believe this is something all "twenty somethings" go through or that huge life changes usually bring this type of thing about. I just wish I was the type of person who was confident enough in myself to have already had this all figured out.

I'll have what they're having, please!

I'll paint the picture for you:

You walk in to Panera and stand in line. Looking around the room you notice the other customers are acting strange, very strange. You follow their stares to a table in the corner of the room. John Travolta is eating lunch! OK, fine, not too uncommon, he does live here after all.

Further inspection shows that he is lunching with his bud, Tom Cruise! Holly Shit! Fine again, they are friends and after all, JT does live here.

Wait a second...What the hell is Brad Pitt doing there?!? I didn't know Brad was part of the posse! Heck, I didn't know Brad even knew where Florida was!

So um yeah, I'll have what they (John and Tom) are having...with a little George Clooney on the side, please.

Sometimes living in Florida has its perks. :)

If I could serenade myself...

This is what I would sing:



I recently discovered Damien Rice and I swear it's like he read my insides and turned them into a song. I spent many moments over this holiday sitting in a room by myself, eyes closed and this song playing so loudly I couldn't hear myself think. Which was a good thing...