A love letter...

For my husband...

It is almost unbelievable to me how I could possibly love you more than the day we said "I Do" all those years ago. I know I tell you that I love you every day, but somehow it doesn't even begin to scratch the surface. When I was a little girl, I would dream of my Prince Charming. I was optimistic enough to dream but pessimistic enough to doubt you would come true...yet here you are.

I am not sure what I did to deserve the love of a man like you. I am passionate and tenacious but you have never attempted to break my spirit. I am the storm, but you are the calming peace that follows. You make me feel safe, and you are one of the few people on the planet who understands why that is such a big deal for me. I feel so cherished by you. I don't need diamonds, or roses to make me feel loved. You show me every day in the little things you do and after 16 years, those little things are the big things. Your love shines through when I catch you watching me while I am cooking dinner, or when I am engrossed in a book. I feel it in the whisper of your lips, when you kiss me good morning...trying not to wake me up, but willing to risk it because walking out the door without that kiss is such a preposterous notion.

So many people have made the comment about how lucky I am to be married to a man like you. Luck really has nothing to do with it at all. Falling in love was and is magical and wonderful but it isn't luck. Marriage...especially one that withstands time, has nothing to do with luck. Marriage is about putting in the hard work, putting our love into action, making a daily decision to put someone's needs before our own. Luck doesn't hold your hand through three surgeries, countless negative pregnancy tests, or car accidents that you were blessed to walk away from. Luck doesn't dry your tears when you are curled into the fetal position because you body is wracked with pain...and luck certainly does not wrap you in a protective embrace and walk you through some of the darkest moments of your life. Love...love does that.

No, I'm not lucky but I am blessed. I know what it means to be loved beyond all reason, to be protected, and adored. Mark, my cup runneth over. I thank the God we serve every day for your presence in my life and that a boy like you fell in love with a girl like me. I just want to say to those who still think I am lucky to be married to you...well, you didn't do so bad yourself. I will love you with all of my heart, for all of my life, until I take my last breath...and even then...I will love you still. Happy anniversary honey and I look forward to sharing many, many more.

Perspective...

I am sitting here pecking away at the keys on my keyboard, listening to the slow rain outside my window and the faint sounds of my 11 year old daughter, in the other room playing with our dog Marley. A simple moment of normalcy that we often take for granted. The smallest moments of every day life that could change in the blink of an eye, in a heart beat. Moments that drift by unnoticed, unappreciated, seemingly blending together because there are a million of them in a lifetime...or so we think.

As we welcome in a brand new year, most of us ponder what changes we would like to make in a never ending quest to be a better version of ourselves because somewhere along the way, we have come to the conclusion that we aren't good enough in our current state. We tend to seek acceptance, and I am no different. I'm not certain at what point in my life I began to be a people pleaser, maybe I always have been to some degree, and I didn't even notice it until it had gone to the extreme. Being a people pleaser was beginning to come at a cost. I was losing sleep, having health issues, and getting so mentally drained from always trying to be who and what so many other people needed me to be, that I didn't have much left over for me or my precious little family. The cost was too great, and I had to take a step back and reevaluate. 2013 brought about a season of change for me. Sometimes you have to release the things that you cling to double-fisted... you have to give yourself permission to let go.

In 2014 I resolve to...

* Let go...of my superwoman cape. I am a wife, mother, aspiring writer, small business owner, and full time employee working outside the home. (No, this doesn't mean I work harder than my stay at home mommy counter parts because I do not know a single one who stays at home, eating bon bons all day while watching The View). The world isn't going to come to end if my cookies are store bought, or if I don't make favor bags for a party. God rested on the 7th day and Martha Stewart has "people". The "Real" Housewives are not reality.

* Accept...that no, is a complete sentence. There is no need to justify myself. I can't always fit it all in, and the thing that gives shouldn't be my mental well being, in an attempt to be a people pleaser. Accept... that some people are in my life for a season and if they choose to walk out of it, then perhaps I am not supposed to chase after them. Accept...that I need to weigh my words before I speak them or type them. Words are precious and powerful. Words can be uplifting and life-giving, or they can break a spirit.

* Keep it in perspective... whether the glass is half empty or half full, I have a glass. I saw that on a poster somewhere, and it fits.

*Appreciate... my family and the little moments. Appreciate that my daughter talks to me almost nonstop because the day will come when it is like pulling teeth to get anything out of her. Appreciate the time we spend praying together as a family, every morning and every night and strive to not let it lose it's meaning because it's such a part of our routine. Appreciate the moments that blend together, making up our lives and realize we need to be present in these moments.

*Write...and write and write. I resolve to finish my novel this year so I can work on the other two ideas that are floating around in my head. I have dreamed of writing since I was 12 years old, and I need to write like I need to breathe. It feeds my soul. I owe it to that one teacher who made such a difference for me. I owe it to my husband who is my biggest cheerleader. I owe it to my daughter to help her believe that no dream, however far fetched, is unattainable. I owe it to my friends who have encouraged me and believed in me. I owe it to myself, and more than that, I owe it the God I serve to use the talent, I have been blessed with.

I wish each and every one of you a healthy and prosperous 2014. I encourage you to keep it in perspective. Perfection is an ideal, not a reality.

The Year In Review

I am not one who typically makes New Years's resolutions, simply because who really wants to see failure in black and white? I did make an exception for 2013,and I blogged my resolutions as a way to be accountable. I put them in black and white for the entire world to see, because if I was going to fail...go big or go home right? No pressure. In 2013 I resolved to...



*Be as accepting of myself as I am of my friends and family. I made progress on this one, though I have a long way to go.

*Read at least three classic novels FAIL...however I did read several books.

*Add more print to my wardrobe, buy a pair of colored jeans,
actually wear said colored jeans in public, and to add
a variety of colors to my closet that aren't blue, black, or grey. Partial success...I added a lot of color, but the colored jeans did not happen. Well...not unless you count those dark blue ones and last time I looked dark blue was a color.

*Strive to achieve a fit mind, body and soul. I made several lifestyle changes this year, and I have to say that I feel like a whole new person. My goal for 2014 is to work on the mind aspect a little more.

*Learn to cook something I have never made before I blew this one out of the water. I used several ingredients I have never used before thanks to a few fellow foodie friends who have awesome Pinterest boards.

*Write at least 10,000 words in my book by mid summer I hit this one out of the park as well.

*Express thanks I have counted my blessings several times over and I have expressed sincere thanks to God, family and friends.

*See at least one musical either live or in the theater FAIL...unless you count the twenty minutes of The Sound Of Music that I watched when it aired on television.

*Get back to the basics It is ever a work in progress, and I am headed in the right direction.

*Accept the things I can not change, have the courage to change the things
I can and be wise enough to know the difference. This is a tough one! It's the being wise enough to know the difference that gets me every time.

Being accountable has certainly helped me follow through. Now in 2014 I resolve to...

A matter of Moments

Tonight is my last night to be a momma to a 10 year old. When Charli wakes up in the morning she will already be 11. It is remarkable that an entire decade has passed, looking back I see her life in a series of moments...except for the first 3 weeks of her life...those are a blur.

Moments...

Her little yawn and baby breath
When she stopped breathing at 5 1/2 months old
When she said her first words
Our first trip to the bathroom because she threw her plate off the highchair at Steak and Shake when I told her to eat her French toast sticks. (Yes, she was only about 15 months old, and no she has never thrown another plate again. Yes, I am just as creeped out as you are that I remember what she ate for breakfast that day).
When she was 2 and took off across a parking lot and stopped about 4 feet before the sidewalk...past the sidewalk lay a 6 lane highway. (Yes, she got her booty spanked, afterwards I locked myself in a bathroom stall of the Best Buy in Valdosta, GA and bawled because she scared me so badly, and no she has never run across another parking lot since...oh and the reason I didn't have a hold of her hand is because she dropped her book, I let her hand go so she could pick it up and it happened that quick).
When she convinced me to buy her a potbellied pig and I convinced her father. Wilbur lived with us happily for 6 months until he got out of his enclosure and ran away.
The time she tossed the cat into our above ground pool with the inflatable ring, to see if he could swim...the cat survived...the pool...not so much.
Oh...when her Aunt Tracy let her do an art project with glitter in my kitchen when she was two...and I was cleaning up glitter for about 6 months afterward.
Her 5th birthday when we took her to Disney and the look on her face when they transformed her into Cinderella at the Bippity Boppity Boutique.
When she threw up on a field trip in the first grade because she had strep throat and I had no idea she was even sick. (Yes I chaperoned...thankfully).

Moments...I am so thankful for the highs and the lows, for every giggle and every tear, for skinned knees, strep throat, ear infections, and the best pediatrician on the planet. I'm thankful for all the sleepless nights, the cuddles, the rolling eyes, stomping feet, and lessons on the latest fashions. There was a time that we weren't even sure if we would be able to birth our own child...or have a child at all. I remember what life was like before Charli and life after Charli is so much more. My heart is filled to the brim. I am beyond blessed and I thank God every day that He picked me to be the mommy to my funny, sweet, stubborn, compassionate, creative, dramatic, sassy, loquacious sunshine girl.

Happy 11th birthday, baby bear...I love you to the moon and back again plus all the stars in the sky.

More than a "Wrinkles" in time

We pose the same question to our children that once was posed to us when we were young...What do you want to be when you grow up? When I was a kid, my answer was always a teacher, a mommy, a writer. I did briefly want to be a pediatrician for about thirty seconds until I passed out at the foot of my mother's hospital bed sometime between ages 11 and 12. Do you know what I never wanted to be? A nurse. I know me, I know what I can handle and what I can't and I even knew it as a child. Bodily fluid, beeping machines, needles...yeah... that isn't for me, but God bless those that have made nursing their profession. I certainly have a deep appreciation for nurses.

Almost two weeks ago, my grandma broke her hip. She is getting rehabilitation at "the old folks home" as my daughter likes to call it. I see several nurses, and CNA's every day. I understand there is one of them and many more "old folks" that they are responsible to take care of. I get that it is a demanding, sometimes thankless job. In the whirlwind, I wonder if some working in the healthcare industry are even aware when they stop seeing their patients as people but merely a task to be accomplished so it can be checked off the list. My grandma is more than that sweet old lady down the hall, who had her TV set on the spanish channel, because she couldn't get to her remote. Grandma was born in 1926. She grew up in West Virgina and trust me, adios amigos is the extent of her knowledge of the spanish language. She is so much more than the person you see laying in the bed, or sitting in the wheelchair to eat dinner.

Grandma is...

Corn pops in coffee cups, porch swings, blue and white tricycles and the best scrambled eggs I've ever had. She is walks to the park, summer shorts made on her sewing machine, discipline in the form of fuzzy pink slippers, and the reason I hate hot dogs to this day. She is praying to Ernest, riding the horsey; 2, 4, 6, 8, Johnny had a little snake, and a "don't be that way or nobody will like you".

Grandma is...

Homemade peanut butter fudge, thumbprint cookies, banana pudding, Christmas lights and "let me hold that baby". She is the woman who wrote to seven guys in the service at the same time, the woman who had her first date with my grandpa at Camden Park, the woman who gave birth to five children and one half of the greatest love story I have ever known. She is "Lord bless you", all the love in the quilts she makes, the best green beans you will ever eat, and the precious woman I named my daughter after.

Grandma is more than the woman who pressed her button again for a pain pill because she forgot she just was given one 5 minutes before. She is more than the woman who doesn't complain...she doesn't like burnt toast any more than anybody else. She is more than a name on a chart. She is someone's widow, mother, sister,aunt, friend, grandmother, great grandmother, and great, great grandmother. She is the heartbeat of a family...I hope they add that to her chart.

My eyes...my beautiful eyes.

So there I am, curled in the crook of my husband's arm, head on his chest all set for Wednesday Night, date night. Criminal Minds...I refuse to watch it alone. A few minutes later, our bedroom is stormed by a force, also known as our 10 year old daughter. It goes something like this:
"Mommy...MY EYES...they burn." I ask all the routine questions. Did you get something in them? Shampoo? Soap?
"No, I was holding Murphy (the guinea pig) and put him back in his cage, then I rubbed my eyes and now they BURN!"
"So get a cold rag and put water in them."
So she wets her hands and scoops water into her eyes. Insert blood curdling, ear piercing, the house is on fire screams. I jump up out of bed and grab a towel for Charli, and wet it with cold water. I tell Mark to go grab the eyewash out of the other bathroom medicine cabinet. I have Charli sit on our bed. Her hands are fused to her eyeballs, and she is screaming like a tween at a One Direction Concert. So I did what any other good parent would do. I told Mark to hold her down so I could put the eyewash in her eyes. Next thing I know our house has turned into the WWE. It's full blown Monday Night Raw and Friday Night Smackdown on a Wednesday. We wrestled on the bed, then somehow ended up in the living room on the couch, Charli is screaming "I can't breathe!" Dogs are hiding, pretty sure the guinea pig almost had a stroke, expecting the cops to pound on our door any second, my eardrum was on the brink of bursting, so I yelled "FINE! GO TO YOUR ROOM!" I was only trying to help but if she wanted to be stubborn, so be it. I channeled my mother and I threw the bottle of eyewash against the wall. (Yea, I know, not one of my finest Mommy moments, but this blog is real folks, so it is what it is.)
Charli is in her room crying, Mark and I are back in our room, where we attempt to resume Criminal Minds (thank the Lord for the invention of DVR). I suddenly make out what Charli is saying:
"Sweet Lord, help me." Then and this is the best part. She says "I don't wanna be blind."
You know that movie a Christmas Story? Do you remember Ralphie's little brother Randy? His whiny voice when he can't put his arms down in the snowsuit because he is bundled too tight? Well, Charli's voice sounds EXACTLY like Randy's at this point. Mark and I are horrible parents...because we are laughing. I'm not talking haha. Mark was rolling on the bed laughing. I am kegaling to beat the band, so I won't pee my pants.
Then I felt kind of bad...so we called Charli back to our room and I got her calmed down. She is saying random stuff and it's so funny because she is sitting with the rag over her eyes on my bed and she says:
"My eyes...my beautiful eyes." (Which reminds me of a commercial you know the one.)
Her eyes finally stopped burning, and miraculously her eye I got the eyewash in feels much better then the one I didn't get it into. Alas, just when we think the drama is going to die out, her FACE starts burning. So being the concerned mom that I am, I turn to her and say "Do you think it has anything to do with crying your eyes out and screaming like a raging lunatic for the past 30 minutes? Hmm? Put a cold rag on your face, Daddy will get you an ice pack, and go get in bed."
She went to bed and Mark and I laughed and laughed over her Oscar worthy performance. Oh and her eyes are fine, turns out a good cry is a great way to flush them.

Time Flies...

"Time flies"...it's so cliché. We say it often and are nonchalant about it. However, there are moments in life that you realize how true that statement is. Tomorrow my only child starts 5th grade and it boggles my mind, that this once tiny being who was a prayer I whispered for nightly against my pillow is starting her final year of elementary school. This tween whose height is even with the bump on my nose, is in fact the same little girl I sang to and rocked to sleep nearly every night until she was three years old. I am in shock that the sassy, shoe stealing, lip gloss wearing young lady, was once the little girl whose hand I let go of in a Denny's parking lot to pick up her book, the one who spilled glitter all over my kitchen, and the one who flashed the entire congregation during her preschool Christmas performance. I truly am in awe of how time flies. I realize...all that time...all those years...really are just little moments. Hundreds of little moments that have made up her young life, and the memories that live in the heart of her mother.

Tonight, on the eve of 5th grade, I will do something I haven't done since who knows when. I will pull out the storage container from her closet floor, and dig through the treasures that lay within it, and find her favorite book from when she was a toddler. I will crawl into her bed and read her a bedtime story. While she sleeps, I will make pancake batter, so when she wakes up tomorrow she can have chocolate chip pancakes made in the pan that is molded like the face of a pig. She will giggle and I will remember that the piggy shaped pancake, is reminiscent of her former obsession with pigs...an obsession that began just before her fourth birthday when I took her to see the movie Charlotte's Web. I will create a moment, one that she may not remember, one that may be lost when I am yelling at her to hurry up or she is going to be late for school...but I will still create a moment nevertheless.

Tomorrow, I will pause for a few seconds and take it all in. I will take her picture on her first day of her last year of elementary school and I will allow it to sink in, and I will take notice that it is a moment in time...and time flies.