Toby's Birth Story

December is Toby's birth-month and so, in his honor, I'm finally posting his Birth Story -- this post has been a year in the making; lots of rereading, editing, and remembering. I look back on that day/night with such fondness, such a bittersweet sense of familiarity and yet surprise. Continue below the jump to read the entire story....


I can hardly believe I'm writing my fourth birth story - or that this is my last birth story. But, here it is, the story of how our little Toby Fields made his grand entrance into this world...

Crazy, Lucky

Our anniversary is coming up this week, and I'm a little sentimental over here -- over a decade with this guy has made me crazy. Crazy in love, crazy in happiness, crazy in denial. 

It hasn't been this long. We haven't gone through so much. We don't have such an awesome family. It's not possible that I'm this lucky. 

But I am -- despite everything I am this lucky. And I owe it all to luck, 'cause I'm not so convinced I deserve a moment of this life of mine. 

"Realness"

Tomorrow, Toby's monthly update post will be published.

 

And then after that, I think I'm going to take a hiatus -- definitely from blogging, maybe from all social media (although giving up my Facebook and Instagram will be hard) -- I just feel a need to pull back and reconnect.

 

Reconnect with myself and my family and my priorities. It's a struggle, and it's a part of our society these days -- everyone is so connected with the online world instantly, but are we really connecting to each other?

 

It's a question I think a lot of us are asking ourselves these days -- though if you're like me, you're not quite sure what the first step to regaining some of that "realness" should be.

 

For me, I'm just going to back away for the time being. I'd like to do a cold turkey month-long exodus. Just step away and see what else shines through.

 

You never know what's waiting on the other side of the closed door -- and if you never open it, the possibilities will forever be a mystery.

 

Mystery be damned, I want to know what's on the other side of that door.

The Funk (And Not the Good Kind)



(source)

The older I get, the more I discover my strengths and my weaknesses. I like to think I've always been a rather mellow, patient, easy-flow kind of person. It takes a lot to ruffle my feathers, and I rarely get overwhelmed by anything. I don't really get mad at anyone or anything. I've even learned to let go of old grudges I carried for years. Aside from my daily road rage, my temper just kind of steadies on an even plane.

 

And yet, lately, I've been feeling overwhelmed. It's this week, really. And there's not anything super specific to pin it down on. It's a mountain of little things, insignificant things that I know I shouldn't even let bother me. I know they're fleeting moments of aggravation, and in the scheme of things, they don't deserve the attention I'm giving them.

 

But yet, they keep piling up. And I'd be inhuman to say they aren't bothering me. Because they are. I've been rushed, forgetful, easily agitated, melancholy, and just plain tired all week (and we're only halfway through the week).

 

Even with four kids, our lives run on a pretty smooth schedule. It's not air-tight, and we can usually change things up fairly easy, but still -- we have our own sort of normal, and everyone is predictably their same crazy selves. We make it work for us, and honestly, most days it doesn't even feel like we're working that hard.

 

This week has felt hella hard.

 

I guess this is just one of those funks, I know people go in and out of them all of the time. I'm in the funk right now, deep and thick -- and I wouldn't be so upset or angry about it if I just had a viable or justifiable reason to be in the funk.

 

I keep thinking to myself, "what is wrong with you?! there are so many other things going on right now, snap out of it!"

 

But here I am, keeping it honest and writing it down -- hopefully sooner, rather than later, I can look back on this from the other side. Shake it off. Move forward. Get over yourself, woman.

Throwback to an old photo of me and Sidney - back when I thought one screaming baby was overwhelming. HA!

 

SWVA Perfection

This little corner of SWVA sure is a pretty one -- and on days like this one pictured, it's hard to imagine a more beautiful place to live. We have it all, all year long - sunny days, crisp evenings, cold nights. Sunny summers, snow-filled winters. We have thunderstorms in the spring and crunchy leaves in the fall. It's just picture-perfect all year long!

 

I've traveled quite a bit in my young life and seen all sorts of beautiful things, but I swear, that mountain covered view is my favorite thing in this whole world.

(Also, momma needs a haircut. And a selfie stick!)

Hiatus..es..sss

Sometimes life just gets too busy to "be". 

There's not much time left to dedicate to blogging or tweeting or facebook-ing. With four kids, there's rarely time for any of it, let alone all of it. And that's OK. Life ebbs and flows, and sometimes the stars align and things get done when they're supposed to, the way they're supposed to. And sometimes they don't.

Sometimes all I have are grainy iPad photos of our "moments" -- and sure, I could just give up on it all and walk away from my blog. But I freaking love this space. 

I would have forgotten *so* much without these stories here. And maybe that means I'm supposed to forget. Not every day needs documenting. 

But why not? Who says they don't need to be? Aren't worth the time/effort? 

These are the only days I get, this is my life, one and only.

All of these boring, grainy, miniscule little moments will pass me by, and one day, I'll be left with nothing but my memories. And I want to remember as many as I can; and if I need help, have a little place to help jostle those memories back into my mind. 

So even if the breaks are long, the spaces between grow wider, the days roll by in silence. I'm still here. Still living. Still making memories. Of my own, precious to me. And as always, this space is mine 'til the end of time, and I'll never regret putting a memory here. Never.

Baby-ness

There are times I get psychically shaken that Toby is our last baby (when am I going to shutup about this topic, I know, insert your eyeroll here) -- after babies, babies, babies non-stop for nearly seven years, it feels so strange to be in a "last" place with Toby. 

His first time rolling over is the last time one of our children will do that. His first time smiling was the last time. First > last. Over and done. 

And that's bittersweet. Our children are babies, and there's so, so much more to experience with them. Life is good, great, awesome now. I expect it to be 100x more good, great, awesome as the kids grow. I can't wait to see personalities develop and talents bloom. Justin and I both look forward to getting to "know" our kids as they grow. There is so much to look forward to. 

But still, Toby is my last little baby and just a constant reminder that he's it. He's the end. And the beginning, if that makes any sense. He's the end of the babies but the beginning of so much more for our family. It all starts and stops with him.

And if I'm being perfectly honest here, I am looking forward to being without a baby in the future, too. No more two-hour-interval feedings. No more crying without explanation or understanding. No more formula or diapers. There's quite a few things that I look forward to when the time comes that we don't have a baby in the house. 

But mostly, I know I'm going to miss this. I'm going to miss gummy, slobber-covered grins. I'm going to miss that smooth, perfect baby skin. And the midnight snuggles. And the joy of a baby on my hip. 

I'm just doing my best to soak up and appreciate Toby in his baby-ness every moment. 

(Someone promise to let me hold your baby when mine are all grown!) 

Finally, Toby

Toby is my last great gift, the final piece of my puzzle, a perfect end note to my opus. 

He is joy and ease and tranquility. He never fails to amaze me with his sweetness, his divine innocence. He gets the best of me, or maybe it's the worst of me. I am utterly at peace with myself as a mother with him. He's the fourth. I know what I'm doing, and I don't know any other way to do it. But it feels like I'm always too busy with the other three... 

And so he just sits back and waits for me. He waits for my undivided attention, waits with gummy grins and a warm little body to snuggle. He is just perfection, and I hope I always remember (and appreciate) him for the cool little dude he is. Such a sweet little soul. 

Maybe the best really is saved for last...

Some < Others

Some nights, I "fail"* at being a good mother.

Some nights my kids eat cereal. Some nights homework doesn't get done. Some nights they go to bed with dirty faces wearing the day's dirty clothes.

Some nights the house is left in a worse mess than the night before. 

Some nights the laundry is piled four feet deep. Some nights the dirty dishes don't even make it to the sink.

Some nights there are fights. There are stories that don't get read to babies. There are kisses that go unkissed. There is anger and hurt and tears.

Some nights there is nothing to do but hide and cry in the bedroom. Don't let them see your tears of frustration and anger.

Some nights there are tired bodies bumping into each other in crowded hallways. There are words spit with venom. There are "I hate yous" and "I really hate yous". 

Some nights are, for lack of a better word, complete and total shit.

But, for every one of those "some nights", there are other nights.

Other nights dinner is done and done right and done on time. There are full bellies and warm bodies.

Other nights homework is finished and books are read. There are clean jammies and freshly washed faces. 

Other nights the laundry gets (mostly) caught up and the dishwasher is loaded. The house gets straightened.

Other nights there is kissing and hugging and loving. There are moments hidden from little eyes and extra "I love yous" and moments for momma and poppa.

Other nights, in fact most nights, are divine in their simplicity and imperfection. Other nights are the norm and the good and the reason we can make it through some nights that are hard.

Tonight, I am my grateful for the nights when I don't "fail"* at motherhood. I live through the some nights so I can love the others.

*None of us really fail at this motherhood thing; we're all bumbling fools just doing our best to keep our little humans alive!*

Parenting Tidbits (!!)

People tend to think that just because I'm a mother of four, I must have this parenting stuff figured out.

even Toby is skeptical of my parenting skills :)

Let me be the first to say, NO, I don't. I'm not even sure what all of this "parenting stuff" is some days. Every child is different (even within the same family) and every parent is different (Justin and I certainly have our own sytles!) and there are a million and one factors that go into any given moment of parenting.

But just for fun, I'll share a few little tidbits of what I've learned after 6+ years of parenting -- if nothing else, I think it'll be fun to look back on this post another six years from now. I'm sure I will laugh at myself a little, and hopefully, I will be able to see my growth as a parent from this day to that one.

• It's okay for your child to cry -- this is not a flag of support for the "cry it out" method. Just know that babies are just little human beings who experience a vast range of emotions, and unlike their older counterparts, babies cannot express their feelings any other way except to cry. And it's okay to let them. Run through your basic "Parenting 101" checklist (are they hungry? Wet? Sleepy?) and, if you come to the conclusion all of their needs have been met, just let them cry. There have been many times I've held a crying baby in my arms (while simultaneously throwing my hands up in the air!) because there's nothing left to do. I try to comfort them, tell them I love them, and just let them do their thing. We all need to just cry it out sometimes -- remember babies are no different (they're not crying just to frazzle your nerves, I promise!)
• A strong willed child, while exhausting, can make for a strong willed adult, which has the potential to be wonderful. I have a certain little daughter of mine who pushes the boundaries, has no problem expressing her opinion (rather loudly, I might add), and who will not budge on the smallest of things when it stands in the way of her personal convictions (as irrational as they may seem to me). I feel defeated when I'm not able to channel that determination into something productive with her, but my ultimate goal is to help her find her own restraints and then let her run wild when she can. I never fear that she'll be one to back down from any challenge or let someone walk all over her -- but I also want to make sure she isn't hiding behind that tough exterior. I know deep down she's just as soft and needy as the rest of us!
• The relationships between siblings has to be on organic one. I have such a heavy fear that my children will grow up and hate each other as adults. Their time together right now is so sweet and tender, the thought of them losing that among each other hurts my heart. Still, I try to let them figure out the dynamics of their relationships on their own. I have found that by letting them take the reins and work through their own little problems, they grow as individuals and as siblings -- that does mean things get a little loud sometimes, especially with the girls. A lot of times I'm tempted to step in and just separate them, but I try to remind them to not scream at each other, to use their words, to figure it out. And 99% of the time, they do, and it works. You can't force your kids to be best friends. You have to give them space to like each other, love each other, and at times, be disgusted with each other. Their relationships may be among little people, but it in no way means the relationship itself is little. 
• It really does take a village! This is one that is very specific to our lives and doesn't necessarily apply to everyone - some parents are just more comfortable keeping their kids closer to "home" and that's fine, too! For our family, we are so lucky to have dozens of hands in the fire helping us navigate life with four kids. We've got multi-generational grand-parents, dozens of cousins, aunts and uncles, friends and more who help us out and fill in the gaps. Our kids are (for the most part) very comfortable with other people and easy to adapt to new places and new faces. There's nothing wrong with accepting help (and offering help when you can!), no shame in letting your circle help shape the people your children will grow to be.

Parenting is hard work, folks -- don't ever let anyone try to trick you into thinking it's a "breeze". It's a heavy task, weighted with the outcome that one day you'll send a (hopefully) well-molded individual into the world. This individual will vote, form relationships, work, marry, raise children, help others. Or maybe they won't. It's one of those things we can't control as parents -- we have to let go eventually, one way or the other. 

But parenting is also fun. And rewarding. It's a very 50/50 state of being -- no, that's not true, either. Sometimes it's 70/30 and sometimes 100/0. There's not always an equal pull of give and take. 

My main point to all of this is: BE THE PARENT YOU WANT TO BE. You can read a million books (or blog posts like this one) or try to follow the example of those that have gone before you (not always a good/bad idea) -- but at the end of the day, you are your own person (shaped by your parents!) and you can choose the best way to raise your children. You really truly honestly do know best. 

Jaxon's Birth Story (01/09/2013)

This post is 1+ year in the making...I've literally been sitting on it that long! I meant to post this around his first birthday, but it just didn't happen (oops!) So here it finally is, the birth story of my firstborn son...and now I really need to get on Toby's birth story. 


It all started on a Tuesday evening. I was sitting on the couch, just taking it easy and gearing up for bedtime, when I started to feel contractions. Out of the blue, moderately strong, timeable contractions! After never going into labor on my own before, it was quite the shock :) Justin kept side-eyeing me, asking me what I thought was going to happen - I joked we'd either have a baby or the contractions would just go away...

This is real life...

I don't know who first said "after two or three, you don't notice any difference" but I'm calling bullshit on that! Having four is totally different than three! Let's just acknowledge that little fact first off.

Now, secondly, I'm working on finding a groove that fits for our family, and luckily for me, that includes coordinating with our amazing family and friends who help make life possible.

Yes, I'm sure Justin and I could do this on our own...but I'm so beyond grateful we don't have to. We are blessed beyond the stars to have such people in our lives that lovingly help.

I get a lot of comments in real life and online where people say "you have your hands full!" Or "bless your heart!" Or "I don't think I could handle four!" And at first, I nod my head in agreement - the initial shock of four kids is surprise! Shocking! And yes, my hands are full - but so is my heart...

And this is hard sometimes, yes, but it's what I was born to do - I was meant to have these four kids. I love them and like them and find myself in complete awe that I made these little people. Some days are longer than others, and sometimes there are tears from everyone (me included!) - but there is so much love.

So if and when you see me out with my little humans, please know I'm happy and I don't feel overwhelmed. I'm doing my best to be grateful, above everything else. I'm still settling into being a mother of four, but only on the outside. 

On the inside, I have been a mother of four my whole life. Now my home matches my heart, and everything feels complete. 

(And yes, in regards to the photo a above, I might be a little happier on the daily if showering found its way into my routine) 

Thriving vs Surviving

Previously, I touched on the subject of finding my groove, especially when it comes to our morning and night routines. With the recent time change, that groove has been shaken up, so while we're still in the middle of readjusting, things are getting closer to what I would call our new normal. 

Part of this new normal means I've been working really hard to get in bed as early as possible and soak up every second of sleep while I can. With the impending arrival of another baby, I know sleep is precious at this point, and I don't want to waste any of it, as selfish as that sounds! :)

With an earlier bedtime, I'm finding it easier to get up with Jaxon and his new wake-up time of 6:00 AM (thank you ever so much, daylight savings time!) -- it's even given me the opportunity to spend a few extra minutes with Justin, seeing as how he tries to be out the door by 5:30 when he can, but sometimes stumbles around and doesn't leave 'til 6:00. That's an especially nice bonus because he's been working 14 hour days here lately, and it's really hard not spending any time with him -- I know the kids miss him, even though the girls would probably never admit it!

All of this is to say, I am the primary parent to our kids most of the time -- they spend the majority of their day with me, and I'm the sole person responsible for making sure they're ready in the morning and put to bed at night. It can be exhausting, for sure, and some days it does start to feel like more of a chore than a delight. I'm doing my best to really try to be present in each moment with my kids (no matter how mundane they may be) because this is my life, the life I've wanted and chosen and dreamed of. These are my kids, all four of these little rascals, and as chaotic and wild as it can be, these are my moments to enjoy. 

Sure, bath time can be monotonous, and no one enjoys changing a diaper for the 100th time (it seems) that day -- but even these little moments present opportunities to relish and enjoy. I try to remind myself to enjoy all of it -- even when the kids are screaming and I've stuck my hand in the messy diaper and supper is boiling over on the stove and there's homework to be done and bedtime was supposed to be thirty minutes ago. It's easy to lose sight of the joy a large family can bring when you're in those moments -- and it's even easier to just whisk through all of it on autopilot. 

So much of parenting is a checklist of cleaning, feeding, organizing, refereeing, over and over, day after day. It gets old quick...if you let it. 

I'm doing my best to not let it be just a checklist, but more of a bucket list that's never ending, always repeating but with new items, new moments to treasure and keep. Every day is a new list, a clean slate, the fresh opportunity to do the best I can and enjoy all of it to the best of my ability. 

Absolutely, I fail. I get lost in the shuffle, and I complain to my mom and other mom-friends (and to Twitter) about how HARD this is -- because it is hard, and I'm exhausted and the kids are just wiiiiiiild. That's life, that's my everyday normal, and I know there are going to be plenty more days like that. Momma said there'd be days like this....

I just remind myself, it's all in how I choose to handle it -- and for most of the days, I like to think I choose joy. I choose to enjoy and thrive, not just survive.

And I hope these little tykes know just how much their momma adores them! 

Halloween//TBT

It's Halloween!

And it's Throwback Thursday!

So let's just combine the two and look at some photos of Halloween celebrations gone by....

2006-2012

Halloween (especially with kids involved!) feels a bit like a marathon workout -- there's the running of the children, the corralling of the candy, the constant checking and head-counting and making sure to keep an eye out for all the other dozens of trick-of-treaters running amuck (amuck! amuck! amuck!) -- seriously, it's a workout!

But just like most other things in life, having kids to celebrate holidays with makes them 1,000x more enjoyable (in my opinion!) I love being on the parent side of the equation, and it's awesome making memories with my own family :)

This year, I'm really really really hoping the weather cooperates just long enough for us to get our trick-or-treating done -- the weather was absolutely beautiful in the days leading up to Halloween today, why can't we just have a few more hours of that sweetness before the rain gets here? Pretty please and thank you!

Look for another round of costume pictures tomorrow!

Idling Thoughts

This is my 91st post this year - which is pretty pathetic compared to 2009 when I published a grand total of 279 blog posts. Ummm....I definitely don't think I'll be hitting that benchmark this year! For the most part, my post numbers have been declining steadily each year - and this year, they took a MAJOR drop. 

And that's okay. Life has been majorly busy this year, and if I'm being totally honest with myself, it's only going to get busier next year. And the year after that. I'm in this wonderful time of babies, and unfortunately, there have been a lot of things that have fallen by the wayside due to the demands having a family. 

I struggle almost daily with the guilt over being a terrible friend to my closest buddies. I rarely ever get to see them, fail miserably at calling or texting them, and pretty much just stink overall at being a friend. I want to be a good friend, and I hope my lady friends know I'm here for them even if I haven't been present every single day. 

I wish there were more hours in a day for time with my husband. Or even just time with my little family altogether. I wouldn't mind some "me" time, too. 

And we do carve out little spaces of time for these things. I'm not whining or complaining in the least, just recognizing that having a big family is demanding and time-consuming. I love it, I really truly do - things are always full and bustling and there's never a dull moment, it seems. In between the chaos, there are moments of peace + bliss, and I appreciate those moments 1,000x more than I ever did before there were three kids pulling at my pant-leg. 

This blog is precious to me - I love it dearly and hope to always have it be a placeholder in my life, a space for me to keep up with myself and my life. It's my online diary for the world to read, and while I don't share everything about my life, I share a great deal of it - a lot of things I would have forgotten about in natural time are preserved here forevermore. 

And while the stories may be fewer, and the spaces between those stories may get farther and farther apart, the point of it all is to keep writing, keep documenting the moments when I can. And knowing, I'll never regret one single post here, ever. 

The More, The Merrier, and the More Absent-Minded

I remember the day I found out I was carrying my first little girl inside me -- I don't remember the exact date, but I remember the day. Visions of pink and frills and bows and princesses and all the things that make life wonderfully girly danced in my head. Mom and I went straight to the store and started buying pink! and purple! and little tutus! and socks with lace! 

And it was wonderful. 

I dreamed of a perfectly perfect princess themed nursery, and so we made it happen. Bright yellow walls. Princess border. Complete nursery set with sheets and pillows and a hanging quilt and the bumper -- all of it pink and princess and exactly how I planned.

I would sit in that nursery for hours. I sat in my pink and white glider reading or folding freshly Dreft-washed clothes. I rearranged furniture and added knick-knacks. I hung out in that nursery anticipating my little lady's arrival for what seems like endless days at a time. There was nothing to do but wait. Imagine and wait and try to be patient from week twenty to week thirty-nine (when she finally arrived)...

And now, three pregnancies away from that one, I sit back and laugh at myself. There really is nothing like the anticipation of your first child! 

Because as cliche as it is, after the first one gets here, you really don't have the same time (or energy) to daydream about the second. Of course, you still do, to some small degree. But it really is different than the first pregnancy. 

And by the time you get to your third pregnancy, well you can just forget it. 

Fourth? I'm pregnant? Is that what this is? 

Jaxon sleeps in a hand-me-down crib complete with hand-me-down bedding and blankets left over from his sisters. His room is not decorated. At all. There's zero thought to it, because who the hell has time to think about decorating the third kid's nursery?

And little Jameson? She's also going to sleep in a hand-me-down crib (one that Rhealen slept in, but was used even before Rhealen for other children in our circle of friends) -- luckily for her, she'll get to use her biggest sister's hand-me-down princess bedding, which Mom and I just unearthed by chance the other day cleaning out Sidney's room at Mom's house (where her original dream nursery was). 

Poor Rhealen never had crib bedding. Hell, she didn't get a crib until she was almost eight months old! 

It's just funny, as I get further and further away from the halfway point of this pregnancy (I'm 25+ weeks roughly) I find myself so uninterested in baby things. I want to get Jameson a new carseat (the only thing I ever insist on buying new for each of the kids!), but other than that? I've got the desire to do nothing else. I don't want to talk nursery decor or outfits or anything even remotely baby-related. 

Because truthfully? You don't need 99% of that bullshit. It's all a commercial craze to make first-time moms spend money hand over first for things their baby doesn't want, need or care about. 

But it was nice once upon a time -- back when I was newly pregnant. That state of bliss was truly special, and I try to recognize it for the amazing time it was back then, back when there were no other kiddos with demands on my time, and all I had to do was sit around lazily and daydream of the baby growing in my belly.

Because nowadays, in the immortal words of Kimberly "Sweet Brown" Wilkins, ain't nobody got time for that. 

Let's Talk About This Lorde Song for a Minute

Show of hands>>who's obsessed with this song?

You there in the back, get on the bandwagon already. It's a sweet song. 

Now, show of hands again>>who the hell knows what she's talking about? 

Yeah, if you're like me, you're coming to the realization right about now that you're no long part of the in crowd -- maybe "in crowd" isn't the right term. What I mean to say is: we're OLD and getting older every second. Further and further away from what's hip and cool and do the kids these days even use those words? Cool beans was a term from my generation, but I'm pretty sure that one died out with our love of hemp shark-tooth necklaces and Tommy Hilfiger overalls. 

I realize I'm a mother and married and with a mortgage -- but none of that meant I felt old. Not until recently. Well, not old -- just older. 

And maybe it's not even that I feel older -- the great divide between me and them is now abundantly clear, however. I'm one day further away from this generation of selfie-loving individuals who text non-stop and IG their lives away and love a lot of things that I don't quite understand. 

And I get that. No judgment, really. I was there -- we all were at one time or another. Sure, the music was different and the phones not so snazzy and we still had pretty basic cable packages without DVR. Different music was played and we all had different faces behind pastel heart-shaped sunglasses with rhinestones around the rim. It was different -- the clothes were different and everything was different -- but the same. 

That's life. I get that more than ever now. 

So thanks, Lorde, I like your beat -- it makes me feel things I didn't quite expect to feel. But that's the point of music, isn't it? To get inside us and bring out emotions we didn't know we had within? 

I'm leading this post with a picture of this toilet -- a picture I've used a few times on the blog before, but my hope is that if you see the toilet, you'll be able to put two and two together that maybe this post will have a little TMI for you. Squeamish? Not into getting down and dirty regarding bodily functions? Afraid of pregnancy talk? Turn away now -- fair warning. I won't judge you, promise!

Monumental

If you don't agree, then just stop reading now. If you're not on the same page as me when it comes to human rights, I don't understand you, but I'm not going to judge you. To each their own (even if I think your own is so very wrong...)

Today was...monumental. Amazing. Such a seemingly small step, but I hope it will be an enormous leap forward. I dream that 50 years from now all this debate surrounding same-sex marriage will seem as innocuous as interracial marriage. I dream that my children can grow up feeling safe in the knowledge that they can fall in love and get married and raise families without ever having to think of the sanctity of their marriage being questioned or challenged by our government. I dream of family and friends getting married --maybe even one day in sweet Virginia-- to the loves of their lives regardless of gender. I dream of acceptance, not tolerance. There is nothing to be tolerated. Full acceptance and love for our fellow human beings; being decent and kind and respectful and, above all, equal. 

In my mind, it seems like such a simple idea -- the notion that we shouldn't judge one another, that we should all be able to coexist in spite of our differences, in fact, because of our differences. My heart just wants to burst open and fill the world with love. Why can't we all just love each other? It may seem like a hippie thing to say, something childish or cowardly. I just want love. I want to witness love. Full, abundant, ceaseless, meaningful, equal love. 

[Take Care]

The moments I really feel something hit me hard in the face and heart and knock me over with such force, there's no possible way to ignore them. 

I have general feelings constantly. I generally feel happy. I generally feel loved. I generally feel anxious. But to truly feel an emotion, in the heat of a moment without warning or delay, is blinding. 

I love my kids, love them all day, every day and will continue to love them 'til the day I die. But there are moments when I look at them and love them so hard, it psychically pains me. In those moments, I'm reminded of a million reasons why I love being a mother, why being a mother has made me a better human, and why I'd shrivel up and fade away without these three in my life. 

Sure, I could have taken a different path in life -- a path that led me to never being a mother. That life sometimes beckons to me -- a carefree, reckless spirit that taunts me, tries to tell me I've missed out on so much living by being a young mother. I get jealous of the part of the me that never even existed, and I begin to resent my surroundings. I daydream of a life without all these responsibilities and demands, without sleepless nights and screaming babies. I dream of, for lack of a better word, freedom. 

And then I see my children, these three innocent beings that took the best parts of me and my husband, and magically came to in a world of hope and love. I see them laugh and smile and play and hold each other. I see them whispering and touching noses, sharing inside jokes and creating a world around them made only for three. They love each other, so fiercely, and take care of each other, a sentiment I've been preaching to them lately. 

Some day, your daddy and I won't be here -- you have to take care of each other, always. 

I see my children and I love them, and it hits me like a wave, these emotions come over me -- I feel guilty for ever feeling anything but contentment and joy. I resent myself for resenting myself. I stop and thank every star in the sky, because I am so lucky -- there are so many mothers out there with empty arms, and here my home and heart are full three times over.

I take joy in falling in love with my children, over and over again. In between the routine and the pitfalls and the everyday grind, I am blessed to feel deeply for them at the most spontaneous and unexpected moments. I know there will come a day when I take them for granted again, when I pine for a life that I wasn't meant to live. But deep down, I know -- I will always love my life. I will always love my children. And I will always love the feeling that comes over me when I fall in love with them again. And again and again and again...