Condo Livin' is for the Birds

....Or so I thought.

So, we short sold that house and moved on out.  We made it to Pike Creek; a city long lusted after by my hubster and me.  Ever since we signed our oldest lil dude up for The Little Gym out this way years ago, we mutually decided that this area is nice during our drives to his weekly classes.  The condensed version of how we really ended up here is we a) were underwater big time in our mortgage on the small ranch in Newark we owned and wanted OUT b) have a kid beginning Kindergarten this Fall and desperately wanted him out of our old crappy school district and into one of our state’s top ranking elementary schools and c) the area’s got a good rep.

After narrowing down the long and arduous process of figuring out where the heck we were going to move our lil family to, we opted for condo renting.  We’d tossed around the idea of renting a house, but I’m just not keen on the idea of maintaining someone else’s home for them.  The thought of paying for all utilities, garbage removal, heating, cooling lawn maintenance and everything in between on a home we wouldn’t own didn’t seem such a great idea to me.  It meant to me that we’d still have all of the bills and stresses we’d already had, only on another owner’s house.  It also meant less money allocated to paying down our non secure debts and paying into our savings.  Not too appealing….

John and I agreed to give this new city and new school a go, and “slum it” for a little bit.  (My husband’s term, although I’d hardly say we’re doing that and am well aware that there’s plenty of folks out there living in “slummy” conditions, so I’m not trying to offend anyone here…)  Simply put, we’re forgoing all of the bills a single family house brings with it, keeping our paid off vehicles, and scaling back on our spending.  We’re in a lovely condo- about the size of our previous home.  It actually feels more spacious to me given the high vaulted ceilings and the layout. With a cheap monthly rent and tons of inclusive utilities and ammenities.  And, I’m surprised to find that I’m really, really liking it here!  John… eh.  Not as much.  And oddly enough, for all of the reasons that I DO like it. 

I am NOT a yard person.  Sure I like being outdoors.  I love bike riding, pools, running around with the kids and our pooch.  All that stuff is fun.  But I hardly ever did those things in my own yard.  I was always packing them up into the truck and heading for play dates and parks and indoor game places.  Furthermore, the time and energy John spent on that damn lawn could have been better spent with me and our kids. 

We see him little enough with the work hours he’s gone for.  It used to bug the bejesus out of me when he’d be gone all day at the office, only to come home and tell me he’d eat the dinner I’d made for him later because he’s “got to get out there and start on the grass before it gets too late”.  “WTH, doode?  Like, I haven’t had adult conversation or interaction all day long.  Been waitin’ on your behind to get home for hours, chit-chat with me, help me with these crazy little people, and I even cooked you this dead animal dish *(Reminder, Vegetarian here!), and off you go to spend our precious time together working on the yaaard?....”  Nope.  I was not shaping out to be the happy camper I thought I’d be when I first laid eye on that spacious, green back yard.   And. It.  Took.  Hours.  Sometimes, even long after I’d bathed the boys and had them in bed, good ole Lawn Boy would enter the house hot, sweaty and stinky from the dark outside……… only to tell me he’d have to FINISH UP TOMORROW!  “Uhh, ‘scuse me?!”  ….. Pfft.  Moral of story: Lawns are overrated!  Lest I mention the ants, the bees, the toys that the kids left out all over the lawn I’d have to continuously walk around to pick up, the dog poo NOT picked up, the huge scary trees that swayed so much in the storms we’d be frightened of them crashing down on the roof and which left gigantic branches all over the yard to be gathered and piled in the corner for burning.  I’d been over this lawn care business for a long time. 

Not to mention the nosey neighbors, and the crazy ones who’d always ask to borrow things.  The trash men leaving our garbage can in the middle of the damn driveway causing me to cruise across the lawn sometimes to get into the drive.  The flower beds that never took off, and the vegetable gardens that rodents and bugs got to.  Pulling weeds and spraying killer on the side walk in front of the house, and shoveling the snow from our driveway and sidewalk as well as our elderly neighbors.  None of that was too enjoyable for me; have to admit.

Forward to not having to deal with any of that.  Can you envision my smiling face?  Ahh.  Maintenance guys take care of it all- and our surrounding shrubbery here is far more pleasing to the eye than anything we’d ever mustered up.  When something’s broke- they fix it.  “They” meaning the people we hire, like the plumber who came out this morning to replace a cracked pipe in the hall bathroom sink, and our landlord foots the bill.  Did I mention our landlord is completely awesome?  Yep, she is.  A single lady who purchased this place about four years ago, got transferred by her employer half way across the country, and is renting just because she doesn’t want to take the financial loss with selling in this market.  To be more clear: A landlord who is NOT AROUND.  Who is busy with her own life, happening miles away from us.  And who enjoys communicating minimally, preferably via email, and who allows us to take care of whatever we need to and send the bill her way.  I’m hesitant to even put this out there into the Universe, less I jinx it, but I do believe we’ve hit the jackpot here!  She even asked US to choose the paint colors for EACH room before moving in, and hired painters to make it happen for us.  I sure as heck can’t complain……….. And it sure as heck doesn’t feel like “slumming it”.

So, the problem?  None here.  Other than maybe I fear I’m enjoying this too much.  I know that John wants to have a home and a yard and projects to work on together.  He envisions purchasing a home in the near future, and gutting it.  He wants trampolines, and pools, and grass.  I thought I’d wanted that too.  I even thought just before moving here that maybe, just maybe I’d made a grave mistake.  That we may be miserable here, and that this lifestyle change would be a rough adjustment.  How crazy was it for me to realize that I like smaller spaces.  Less cleaning, less clutter, less responsibility.  The “American Dream” was drilled into our heads since birth- home ownership and all that comes with it: bar-b-q’s, big family dinners, swing sets.  Only I had the humongous kitchen, and huge hard, and the monthly mortgage to prove home ownership and didn’t really enjoy any of it.  It’s just not who I am, who we are.  We’re less “sit around the grill and fire pit” kind of folks, and more “sit inside the air conditioned living room playing games with your alcoholic beverage” kind of peeps.  Or better, “Always on the go” folks.  I’d rather spend my afternoon running around town than knee deep in dirt working on a flower bed.  I’d rather have one small hall to cross come laundry time, than lugging baskets across an entire house or up and down stairs.  I’d prefer to swiffer for five minutes, versus the half hour plus it used to take me.  I’m beginning to think that the dream of a big beautiful home to own is…..  for the birds!

The kids are happy.  The dog’s adjusted.  (And, by the way, totally loves the hell out of the awesome new dog park right down the road!)  And things are good right now.  (There was a crazy downstairs neighbor issue for the first month and a half, but even that worked out.  The nutty biatch up and moved away!)

So, for now…  My mentality is, if it ain’t broke- don’t fix it.  I’m content to sit tight right where I’m at and focus on the many other issues of vast importance that fill my plate these days. (Like both boys beginning school next week, for instance.)

Sometimes things aren’t what they seem.  Who knew this would be an ongoing learning opportunity?  So many lessons, really.  All of the time I spent worrying about our impending move here- a waste.  Sure makes this mantra prove pretty darn true, huh? 

And some times, what you think you want isn’t what you really want.  Sometimes it’s good to let go of old ideas, ones that maybe weren’t even your own to begin with, and open up your mind to something different and new.  I’ve learned that what I saw on Oprah one day when she visited Denmark and reported that the people there are overall generally happier and more content than their global counterparts, because they follow this motto “Less space, less things, more living” is actually true.  (Well, that and the Danes in general take life slower, have more assistance from their government, and focus more on the family and environment- leaving work earlier than we do to be together, and biking everywhere for instance.)  For me, I can see clearly now that the “American mentalities” that had been fed to me from every angle don’t even truly jive with what makes me happy.  Not at this moment in time, anyway.  No new car payment, high mortgage bill, or fancy anything has ever brought me the peace of mind I’ve found here in this lil condo with my dwindling debt and extra family time.

For the birds^ 

So, for now at least, Condo livin’ is gooood.  And it’s so surprising to me, still, that I would even say that.  What a pleasant surprise!  A welcome lesson in life this time that didn’t include some kind of painful endurance, struggle, or fight to figure out.  A lesson this lil condo tucked away in the hills and trees of Northern Delaware has taught me.  We never do know what unexpected pleasantries and lessons life has to offer us.  

And!  Not all lessons have to be hard learned- and that’s another lesson unto itself right there!

Images found @:

myfreewallpapers.net

http://www.searchquotes.com/viewimage/The_Reason_People_Find_It_Hard_To_Be_Happy/91/

martindaveyillustration.co.uk  

I thought about you today, again.  I was discussing the delivery of an item to Mom and Dad’s house this morning that could potentially arrive while no one is home.  “I can’t even have Poppop keep an eye out for it”, I’d thought.  Just one of the many things you did for me and our family- keep an eye out for our packages and bring them inside for us.  …Just another daily reminder of the void that your leaving has left behind. 

And last night I fell asleep thinking of you, as I often do, having to silently wipe away tears from my eyes until gratefully, sleep finds me.  And you appeared in my dreams, as you’ve appeared several times since you left.  I’m grateful for these dreams.  Although, I awaken more saddened by them most times, and later become angry at myself for forgetting the details.

I do recall, however, one specific detail about my dream of you a few nights ago.  As I’d often done when you were here in the past, I’d held your hand in this dream.  Only this time was different.  I’d held onto it so tightly, with such bittersweet urgency and angst in my heart, wishing all the while to feel our fingers interlaced this way forever.  I’d squeezed your hand, and stared down at it.  Your long fingertips reaching the middle of the top of my hand.   Studying your large strong hands that had done such miraculous things throughout your lifetime, I can recall with crystal clarity the feeling of never wanting to let go.  Those hands saved people from burning buildings…  They held your infant children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren tightly.  Yours are hands that held onto steering wheels for hours on countless drives to the beach for years and years to vacation with your most prized possession- your family.  They are hands that held wiffle bats and pitched baseballs, and created, built, tinkered and worked, that softly patted the tops of my children’s heads when we’d visit your sick bedside; hands I held onto until you took your dying breath.  Holding your hand is something I miss so terribly.  But, certainly, it isn’t the only thing I miss.  My dreams of you are bittersweet. But I never want you to stop appearing in my dreams, so that I may again look into your crystal blue eyes, and hear your distinctive voice and boisterous laughter dance through the air like music in my ears. 

I miss everything about you, Poppop.  I guess that will never stop.  Even though I’ve become used to your absence from my life- now nearing two full months since you passed on.  The normalcy is settling in, unwelcome as that notion is.  I’ve accepted the sorrow that creeps into bed with me each night as the house is silent and dark, and my thoughts drift to memories of you.    I expect the empty feeling left over after my dreams spent with you have ended.  And, I’m a pro at shaking off that morning sadness as I hop out of bed to prepare the kids’ breakfast and move forward with my day. But it’s the unsuspecting socks to the gut which I’m not so good at.  The ones that take place in the middle of a Verizon store on a weekday morning, reminding me of the fact that I don’t have you in my life anymore for even the smallest of things that somehow hurt the most.  That I haven’t yet gotten “used to”.  That I maybe never will.  That, actually, I may never want to….

Even now, there’s no mail carrier to bring you this letter I’ve written, as they have in the past.  So, I’ll be sure to try my very best to remember to tell you in my dreams, Poppop.  To let you know over and over how much you still mean to me, and how much you’ll always be missed and thought of.  And until then, rest easy… I’ll see you in my dreams.

Me and my Three Pairs of Blue

Today I'm posting a Poem about the three loves of my life: My husband and our two sons.

I wrote this quite a while back- (Friday, January 30, 2009 at 1:50am to be exact).

 

I've been especially sentimental and emotional lately.  My youngest just turned the ripe old age of four.  His bother, also four, will be the Big 5 Years Old next month.  I can remember things about my own fifth birthday.  That means, he's most definitely not a baby any longer.  He'll have actual, legitimate memories of this time in his life now.  He's a full fledged, impressively functioning, human being (as is his wiser-than-his-years little bro). 

 

With the changing of Summer to Fall, I always feel a bittersweet ache in my heart.  It's the time of year that brings with it the most family-centered holidays, and it's also the time of year my first niece was born.  A year later, my own first child was born, and the following year- my second.  To sum it up:  I turn into one big emotional mush ball each Autumn.

 

It's a reminder of such truly magnificent times in my life.  But it's also a very pivotal reminder of how quickly time is passing by.  A part of me wishes time would slow, just a bit.  There are all of these mini-milestones taking place nowadays that are proving much harder to accept than I would have thought.  Just yesterday, I gave myself a minor heart attack when my firstborn rode on a school bus for the very first to his very first field trip.  It was so fascinating and wonderful for him to experience.  I was ecstatic for him.  Truly.  But for me, it involved a sleepless night before, and terrible chest and stomach pains the day of.  I tortured myself with visions of him wondering off in a pumpkin patch somewhere and not making it back, or of an accident happening in the extreme fog we experienced yesterday morning with this stranger school bus driver and the dimwits on the road without headlights on.  The worry was so physically exhausting that I felt fatigued in a way I was not accustomed to.  Afterwards I couldn't squeeze and kiss the boy enough.  The relief that washed over me cannot be described in words, the moment I saw his bright smiling face come around that corner at Pre-K yesterday afternoon.  No one drives my babies.  No one baby sits my babies (other than my mom, really...).  It's me and them.  For all of their lives.  Things like this field trip are all foreshadowing what's to come.  The boys will continue to take more and more steps away from me, with their own two feet.  I'm so proud of them, and their independent nature.  But I cannot help my need to be there with them... for them....  It's such a struggle to put my trust in others that they're looking out for my children when I'm not there.  I'm now understanding why so many mothers opt to go on Xanex.

 

Another reason I become so emotional (and sad) is that I desire incredibly to have more children, although like many others in our current economy, our situation doesn't allow for it.  And the older the boys get, the further away we get from the idea of adding more siblings to our brood.  I do not wish to have children eight or ten years apart.  The family I envisioned would be close, and "grow up" together in the same household.  If money were no issue, I'd have had another child by now.  It saddens me.  I wonder when that will end.

 

Don't get me wrong, I'm more than content with these two angels.  I simply just love being a mom, and I want for them to have a large support system of siblings to share their lives with.  I dream of being surrounded by all of my children and grandchildren in my senior years, with a home filled with love constantly multiplying and laughter pouring out through the windows.  I struggle with "quality over quantity" in terms of what we can afford to give them in life, and what they'll have to sacrafice if we were to add another child to the family.  Afterall, there are already tons of experiences John and I wish to provide them with that we're unable to.  Private school being number one on our list.

 

For now, it's just me, my beloved John and our two perfect boys.  And today, I'm counting every single blessing they continue to bring me.  I just adore the hell out of them!

 

 

Three Pairs of Blue

Three pairs of two
The most beautiful I’ve ever seen
Each a different shade of blue
Not brown, hazel, or green

The windows to each one’s soul
So I’ve heard my whole life
Two pairs to mother and mold
To the third, a supportive wife

The depth and the beauty of each pair’s hue
One tip of the iceberg to what lies inside
Of each magnificently unique pair of blue
For which I hold the utmost of pride

All six eyes of blue twinkle, dance and shine
I’m so fortunate to look into them each day
Beyond lucky am I that those blue eyes are mine
Making life more spectacular in every way

Those three pairs of blue make each smile more bright
And each teardrop more deeply felt
They brighten up a dreary day, and light up the darkest night
And with just a mere glance from them, I melt

The first pair grabbed me at my first look
With intensity and flirtatiousness I won’t soon forget
First my attention, then my heart those eyes took
Giving me a feeling of intrigue the moment we met

The second pair came on a December afternoon
And was like seeing love for the very first time
My joyful emotions filled up the room
His blurry, blue newborn eyes seemed to chime

In the middle of the night last Autumn
I met the third pair so big and brand new
Glaring up at me, yet another blue-eyed son
Speaking to me, “Mama, I love you.”

Three pairs of blue to cherish and love
They give me hope, strength and meaning so true
Together our family fits like a glove
Me, and my three pairs of blue.

 

 

Our Halloweens, Past & Present ☺

And if you want a reminder of just how quickly change happens all around you, just take a look at children....

This is Halloween 3 short years ago... My little Lion and Scarecrow in our ensemble of the Wizard of OZ. 

(Yes, that's me in the background, Dorothy.  And no, that was not a wig- but my Real Hair.  I went through a red phase...  Shouldn't every gal? 

My Tin Man Husband was busy painting his face Silver in the bathroom, and this shot was taken pre the crying and screaming that his scary face caused in the children.  They had no idea who he was and in turn suffered frightened meltdowns before heading out to Trick-or-Treat.)

 



Halloween 2009:

We were each an element that makes up a S'more...

Our Marshmallow...

& Our Chocolate Bar.... 

(And you can assume that my husband and I were each Graham Crackers.  So sorry we have no family pics on our laptop files...  as they were taken my my mother with her own camera.)

This is them as a Vampire and a Pirate from the same year, for their aunt's Halloween Bash....

Finally, last year they broke away from our "Family Ensemble" and chose their costumes based off of what they found most interesting in a Walmart aisle....

The Magician and his Bunny Rabbit. 

(A little too big to be pulled out of the hat, but cute as a bunny just the same. ;-)  You should see the view from the back, his tail was the cutest part!)

And this year, Halloween 2011, the kids will dress up as their favorite super heroes.  (And Dad and Mom will join in on the fun again, as the villains!):

Our Brave Spiderman and Batman.... 

I will dress as (a very less sexy) Cat Woman-think kitty ears, a tail and drawn on whiskers with black sweats.  And my hubs will dress up as The Joker.

Even our new pooch will join in on the fun this year...

Super Dog Rocky, at your service!!!

Hard to believe these are the same kids...  they grow so fast.  And each Halloween comes around more quickly than the last!

So cherish every moment- the pumpkin pickin' and carving.  The dressing up.  The decorated spooky treats, and rooms.... Knocking on cheerful neighbors' doors. Bonfires (with S'mores, of course!).  The Halloween movies, scary music, and sugar highs!  The whole nine yards!  These are memories that both kids and their parents alike will recall and cherish for years to come. ♥

*Added:

The family photos on our buffet table.

At least you get a sense of how big and scary the Tin Man was for these little kids.  :)

All Because Two People Fell in Love

These words hang above a door in my kitchen, on a decorated wooden plaque.  A gift from my mother.  She’s given me so much, I can’t remember if it’s an anniversary present, or simply something she found during one of her shopping travels and thought that I would like.  It matches nicely with the colors of the room, and it fits perfectly- as though it were measured and made for the sole purpose of hanging in that space. 

Time passed, and I barely noticed it there anymore.  After all, it hangs above the door to the laundry room, a place I try regularly to avoid.  But one day I glanced up from my end of our long wooden dinner table.  The words glared back at me.  It was during a tough time in my marriage, and upon reading the sign in that moment I felt a sense of fakeness.  I’d suddenly wished I had never hung it up.  It read like a lie:  “This couple, this family, this home… all of it, because two people first fell madly in love.”  What a fraud I was.  That’s not how our story read at all.

We aren’t your typical romance story.  He didn’t pursue and woo me at first sight.  No long courtship ensued.  There was no head over heels feeling, or moment of knowing that he was “The One”.  I’d had the pursuing and the wooing.  I’d become engaged to it, and planned a wedding with it.  Then, I left it.  And that’s when I met my husband. 

Random chance put us side by side at a work meeting.  All of the details leading up to the morning of our meeting seemed the Universe’s attempt at keeping us apart.  I was sent to a location a long drive South, only to find out upon arrival that the training class had been moved last minute, to a location far North.  Somehow, this information never made its way to me- not through office email or my manager.  I waited around a bit, for word from my superiors as to whether I should attend this already in session training incredibly late, or head on back to the office and catch the next training happening a week later.  The decision was made to have me attend, beyond tardy.  Back into my silver coupe I hopped, tunes playing, for a two hour drive back the direction from which I’d just come.  It was a bright and beautiful September day….  I took my time on that long stretch of Route 1 North, and into the city of Wilmington.

The only seat left for me was directly next to him.  His dimples were sweet and the sparkle in his bright blue eyes was reminiscent of the brilliant blue fall sky I’d appreciated on my drive up that morning.  I took notice almost immediately.  His endearing chuckle and broad chest also grabbed my attention.  So too, did his gaughty yellow gold watch.  We’re both pretty outgoing, and having to spend hours in a training class over the course of several days together lead to conversation and laughter.  “Sense of humor, check.” But, he smoked, was a Dallas Cowboys football fan, and had an apparent tacky taste in accessories.  “Triple No-Check.” Throw in the fact that I was sort of seeing a rebound guy after my engagement ended with the good ole high school sweetheart, and wasn’t even looking…  Mere attraction wasn’t enough for us to make any moves on one another and I doubted I’d even see him again.  I still think back on this day sometimes and wonder how we ever ended up together.   How could I have possibly known that I’d just met my husband and future father of my children?....

More time passed.  We had another training course together, ironically at the location I’d initially gone to the last time.  I was surprised at myself that I was excited to see him there when I walked into the room.  And I was sorry that he was already seated with others next to him.  There came a point in that class where we were instructed to pair up and “role play” a situation.  A tall, lanky and tremendously dorky man in his late thirties eagerly jumped up and asked if I’d be his partner.  “Damn.”  This guy was pretty high up in the banking world, and worked for an office a good distance away from mine.  He somehow finagled his way into insisting I take his business card in case I ever had any ‘questions’ that he could be helpful in answering for me and I gave him mine.  (I never called.  He, on the other hand, did.  And left a cringe worthy voice mail after several failed attempts to reach me, as well as a few creepy emails.  I eventually had to tell him, very nicely, to lose my card.) 

After this class, we corresponded via company email a bit here and there.  Until before I knew it, it was every day.  At the end of our shifts, we’d find ourselves typing things like “talk to ya tomorrow.”  He was in another building, in another city, so there was no office “walk by’s” or anything like that optional.  I’d gone on a few dates here and there with a guy who worked in pharmaceuticals, and a couple first and last dates with two others.  Nothing at all serious and I still thought of him often.  Finally, one day I either invited him along to a local restaurant bar where I had plans with a girlfriend of mine, or he invited himself.  Either way, I can still recall with striking detail the moment he came strutting through the door.  Black bomber jacket.  “Is this 1988?”  Fashion fail and all, he looked cute as could be!  Those dimples, and those eyes immediately drew my gaze away from that leather disaster, and we spent the night talking, laughing and drinking Sicilian Kisses shots with my girlfriend and a group of her coworkers at a bustling college town bar.  My next email the following Monday, would be more than just friendly, as he complimented me on my appearance the other night.  I may not have been wearing a coat stolen from Tom Cruise in ‘Top Gun’ (sans the patches), but I certainly wasn’t looking my best.  I still remember having my hair in a bun, and I recall exactly what I’d been wearing: a blue and yellow sweater, blue jeans, and white sneakers.  Naïve me had no clue that this “restaurant” turned into a happening bar once the clock struck 9:00, and after I’d finished dinner with my friend and we made our way to the bar area, all around me I was surrounded by stiletto heels, miniskirts and halters tops.  (Regardless of the fact that it was a freezing cold January night.)  In any event, a few more emails exchanged, and I asked him outright if he was flirting with me.  His cheeky response gave me my answer.

We hung out as friends, but there was no denying our attraction to one another.  One night while dropping me off at my parent’s home, he gave me the quickest kiss on the lips.  It startled me, as we’d always remained strictly platonic, and my reaction seemed to offend him.  It was then that I realized we were fooling no one by pretending nothing was there, and I pulled him back in for a do-over.  From there we saw each other just about every single day.  I club hopped with this seasoned “bad boy”, more than I’d ever gone clubbing before.  In fact, he was the only reason I went.  When our dates didn’t consist of dancing and drinking, we watched movies, talked about our families, and I introduced him to mine even though I was hesitant to meet his.  Things progressed quickly, and I was the happiest I’d been in quite some time….  Long story short, we found out I was pregnant on April 27^th, 2006.  All of that “attraction” and bar hopping together had led us straight down the fast track to parenthood. 

That night we decided that as crazy as it seemed, we would be a family.  Looking back, we were strangers at best.  But we came from similar family backgrounds: our heritage, our values, our beliefs and our ideas on what we wanted for our family and for this baby were all aligned.  In a whirlwind of events we bought a house, married, and welcomed two baby boys within one year’s time.  Our first son was born in December, and his younger brother came in November of 2007. 

Writing this today, I realize that the sign that hangs in my kitchen could not be any truer of me and my family.  Against all odds, here we are.  We’d never have made it this far without love.  A strong, authentic, overwhelming, binding kind of love. 

Ours is a love not of tradition, or romance- but of dedication, and faith.  We took a leap of faith and placed all bets on one another because of our love for our unborn child and the goodness we saw in each other.  We continue to dedicate ourselves to one another and our children, because of a kind of love neither of us had ever known until we became “us”.  On our journey together, we struggled emotionally, and financially, but in the face of adversity we fought.  We fought for love.  We lost who we were and found who we were meant to be, because of love.  We continue to fight for this love we’ve created.  Because it’s a love worth fighting for.

So, no, our love is not the ideal kind that you envision for yourself or for your children, or one that the fairy tales depict.  We may have met as colleagues, married as virtual strangers, and fallen in love with one another along the way.  But it just so happens, that despite the way our love has come about, it’s the most brilliant kind of love I have ever experienced.  And I know with a strange certainty that we cherish each other in ways that we couldn’t possibly any other.  This love we’ve got has grown and has strengthened in ways I have not seen in any other relationship.  And it continues to grow.  Our marriage, our family, this house we’ve made into a home:  Indeed, it is all because two people fell in love…..



Unpredictable Chaotic Bliss

You never know what the day will bring.  Even with the predictability of being a stay home mom of two toddlers, this is true.  While I must admit our “adventures” are limited.  (Say like… to the park, grocery market, or nearest Chic fil A play area.)  There are still a plethora of places and situations one can find herself in when she’s running around with little kids as sidekicks.  The randomness of being a parent of young kids is constant.   You wake up thinking you’ll scramble some eggs and bacon, and instead its pancakes and sausage they want.  Sure, this is one miniscule example.  But this is just the first five minutes of your day.  You believe you’re ahead of the game with their outfits picked out the night before, only to be met with pouty lips, and watery eyes because it’s the wrong shirt you’ve chosen.  (You pick and choose your battles, but with just fifteen minutes left to get to preschool, I’d be willing to bet you’d swap that striped shirt for the Batman one, too.   You’d probably also feed your kid whatever it is (within reason) that will get him to eat, just so that you can follow through with brushing of the teeth and the hair, doing the dressing, the putting on of the socks and shoes, the back pack, etcetera etcetera etcetera – just to get out of the freaking door!)  Then….. someone’s got to poop.  ALWAYS!  Poop never ceases to come at the most inopportune times!  Just before the movie starts at the theatre, right as you’re about to stuff that fork full of pasta fasul into your mouth, and always when you’re rushing out the door to get somewhere on time!  So, after doing his business and, attempting to wipe the tushy himself, he flushes the poo along with twenty pounds of toilet paper, causing the toilet to over flow- soaking more than just the floor.  Time to pick out a third shirt, and grab your good towels to clean up the stinky, soaking wet mess happening on the bathroom floor.  (Because the good towels are the closest to you and because the only things you care about right now is trying to NOT be locked out of the preschool building.)   All in a weekday morning!  See?  Hectic situations ensue on a daily basis with these tiny, chaotic people.  Schedule things?  Ha!  The very idea of scheduling laughs in my face.

How about you’re rolling along the highway at 60 miles per hour heading to a doctor’s appointment, when one of your kids projectile vomits.  The flowing liquid in the rear view mirror catches the corner of your eye, and the screams or horror from his sibling next to him render you so off guard that it triggers your foot to slam on the brake.  In doing so, the airborne mass of disgustingness propels forward at an even higher velocity, covering your face just as you turn backwards to see what exactly this disgusting looking levitated matter is.  Now you’re swerving off the road, where you vehicular manslaughter a baby turtle, and narrowly miss a billboard sign for some kind of erectile dysfunction medication in the middle of Interstate 95, wondering what the heck happened, and how the hell you’ll ever be able to afford the nine hundred dollar ticket for reckless driving you now have because the cop who came to your aid is single and childless and has no sympathy whatsoever for what you’ve just gone through! 

No.  This did not really happen to me.  But it’s entirely possible, give the fact that kids are so damn unpredictable and have a knack for making things happen that you couldn’t have possibly foreseen in a million years. 

And oh the questions I’m faced with explaining to these inquisitive boys and the things we get into because of those incessant inquiries.  It’s a domino effect, and there’s no end in sight!  This morning, for instance, I found myself answering the question from my four year old as to why some people call the beach the desert.  Undoubtedly a question brought on by some cartoon episode I had entertaining the kids while I attempted to cook breakfast.  (Who says tv doesn’t teach?)  Out came the laptop, up came the Google screen, and in a nano second there was a map of the US, which aided me tremendously in my explanation of how sand without the ocean is not a beach.  ….Whiiiich brought us to finger painting pictures of the sand and surf per the kids’ requests.  A filthy kitchen, two color-covered little dudes, and a whopping mess of paint, papers, brushes, toilet paper rolls and plates later…. I’m exhausted, and I’ve spent my whole morning and afternoon doing something that I didn’t anticipate I’d be doing when I awoke this morning.  This, of course, means that I got nothing else of any importance done today. Like, organizing the bills (Me?  Organized? Ha!), calling to have some erroneous charge removed from my checking account (PI work, aka those dang websites claiming free trials to look up legal documents on people but who really jip you by charging ANYWAY, costs money), making one single bed in this house (Oh well, we’ll just mess ‘em up in a few hours again anyway), or finishing any one of the hundred unfinished house projects that have remained unfinished for months (What’s one more day?)…. But to be fair, making a mess painting with two lil cuties in the kitchen is way more fun than doing adult chores.   Any day.

Point is: 

If you’re an anal retentive, scheduling crazed, orderly, clean, hectic-life-hatin’, methodical, precise person- do not have kids!  Or.  Have them anyway and embrace your newfound chaos.  You’ll be kissing goodbye this idea of an actual clean and structured lifestyle for a good long while.  But if anything is worth it, kids are!

End note:  Literally, just as I was about to post this, my four year old came running out from his bed screaming "Bloody nose!  I got a bloody nose!"

I couldn't make this stuff up.....  Unpredictable, indeed.



Here comes the.... Divorcee

I’m a twenty-something Caucasian chick from the suburbs.  And I’m a minority.  In several ways.  Presently I’m focusing on the fact that I’m a minority amongst my friends.  And not because of my race, or age, or gender, or because of where I reside.  But because I’m one half of a married couple who has somehow managed to STAY married.  Think about that for a minute.  This may be no big deal in today’s world if I were middle aged, perhaps.  But as I’ve already stated, I’m not.  And neither are my friends.   My coupled friends are around mine and my husband’s ages, and they are ending their marriages left and right.  “Till death, do us part” has overwhelmingly become, “Till I can’t take anymore of your bullshit, do we part”.  And even though we’ve all been hearing for quite some time now that approximately half of all marriages end in divorce, didn’t you always think these couples were at least making it a little longer than a few years?  This isn’t Hollywood here….. Ugh. It’s so saddening to see.  Especially because small children are involved.  And what I also find particularly bothersome is that it’s the woman in 99% of these marriages who were the ones done dirty, who have given up the most, and who yet still stand to lose the most.  Do I seem bitter?  Maybe a lil bit…



We women have a habit of leaving our jobs to raise the children and care for our husbands and homes.  We’re known to put off going back to school, so that our breadwinner husbands can work longer hours or go back to continue his education because he’s the one who will reap the financial benefit for the family and more quickly.  (Did ya hear?  Women still make approximately 70 cents for every dollar a man earns.  And here in my home state of Delaware that gap is even larger.)  Wives and mothers also often find that their friendships suffer because they’re too busy with the laundry, and the cooking, and changing diapers, and helping with homework, and playing chauffeur to the kids.  These wives give the biggest thing they could possibly give to their husbands and children:  Themselves.  And when things go sour, they’re left in the wreckage, struggling to deal emotionally, with the added financial burden weighing them down as well.  This is the norm among the couples in my social circle, anyway.  It reminds me of the great Feminist Gloria Steinem’s famous quote, “Most women are just one man away from welfare.”  I’m a Feminist.  Did I mention?  Well, I am.  At least, I consider myself one.  To a point.  (Everything in moderation, I like to say.)  Having stated this, I’d like to also mention I in no way feel that in order to be “pro woman” one needs to be “anti man”.  I’m just callin’ it like I see it here.  The ugly truth is that all but a few of the men in these broken up unions were unfaithful and dishonest.  Some repeatedly.  And the uncanny part of it, is that even after their indiscretions were found out, they still behaved smug and difficult to work with when it came to attempting to repair the marriage.  What gives!?



Recently, it’s been proposed in Mexico by a left wing political party to change the civil code in allowing temporary marriage licenses to be issued.  Two years would be the minimum “Marriage Contract”, a contract that would be renewable if the couple remained happily married.  These would incorporate provisions on how the married couple’s kids and property would be handled, as well, if they chose not to continue with the relationship.  This makes some sense if you take a moment to ponder how every other contract we enter into has an end date.  We can lease our vehicles, at which point the lease comes to an end and we can decide whether to buy or not.  This is also the case when we lease our houses, and we have terms on our mortgages.  What other contracts can you think of that you’ve signed, that binds you for life?

What about the old adage, “All good things must come to an end”?  Hmm?  Or ponder for a moment, if you will, the fact the you are a different You today than you were even just a few years ago.  And undoubtedly, so is your spouse.  The dreams you had for yourself, number of children you wished to have, life goals, and hobbies of interest, they may have very well changed also.  If you’re anything like me, they’ve changed and seemingly keep on a’changin’.  Say, hypothetically, that you and your partner had bonded over a shared love of country music, the same social group in college, and that you both fell for one another over a shared love of rock climbing.  Fast forward to married life now with two kids,  minimal free time, stretch marks and stretched bank accounts…  Not only are you both stressed to the max.  But!  You now can’t bear to hear the country music being played on the radio today, ya only see those old college buds’ faces through a social networking site now, and you are so tired all of the time that you couldn’t physically force your twice-the-size-it-used-to-be ass up a small hill let alone the side of a mountain, if you’d wanted to.  This scenario doesn’t seem so far fetched to me.  What happens when all of the “perfect” reasons you’d been “perfect” for one another have dissipated?  Aside from one spouse betraying the other- there’s a myriad of reasons that marriages don’t last.  These things may seem small, but they add up over time.  There are probably literally hundreds of factors that evolve us all on a continuing basis.  How can you possibly grow together in everything?

The idea of marriage proves to be different than “actual” marriage, with examples of this truth all around us.  In the media and in our own families and neighborhoods we see firsthand how quickly and how nasty the demise of a marriage can be.  The wedding is fantasized and romanticized.  Then shortly after we’re made aware of the dirty details of deception, abuse, addictions, and mistresses.  More folks are beginning to see the unrealistic expectations of “till death do us part” for what they are: Unrealistic.  And many are choosing cohabitation over marriage.  In the United States, rates of cohabitation among heterosexual couples have more than doubled since the 1990’s, (finds a recent study by the Pew Research Center).  June Carbone, a law professor at the University of Missouri-Kansas City, stated in a New York Times piece that today females with college degrees are actually more likely to marry than those with just high school diplomas, the opposite of several decades ago.  (Think these “blue collared” ladies are trying to break the cycle of depending on a man?)

I could ramble on forever about this topic of marriage. Like, for instance, how marriage first came into play when societal changes began to evolve.  Ironic how marriage starts out with the man, and typically, ends with the man.  See, men didn’t give two hoots about monogamy and marriage until material possessions came into play.  Once males began to acquire personal physical possessions, they began to care about who their offspring were.  Before this time, women and men mothered and father multiple children by multiple sexual partners, not caring who the parents of each child were.  It just wasn’t a matter of importance.  And all shared a communal responsibility for supporting each other: “the tribe”.  But as we evolved (there’s that word again) as human beings, and structured society took over, the need to know who should rightfully get the father’s earthly belongings became an issue.  Bring the need for “order” into the picture, and you now have things like man created religions that favor marriage for their own purposes as well….

Believe it or not, I’m a happily married person.  It may sound like I’m advocating for divorce, or against marriage. But I recognize full well the advantages to marriage- the monogamy, emotional support, the benefits to the children, having that special someone to be there through thick and thin till the end, to share a lifetime with, and I know that the list can go on and on.  It’s just that I’m a realist.  My husband and I are up today, but could just as easily find ourselves down in our friends’ places tomorrow.  We’ve worked on our marriage, a lot.  But then, so have many of our friends.  There are just certain things that marriages can’t come back from…. Each union is unique and complicated beyond anyone’s wildest imaginations.  This is undoubtedly true.  I’m just so damn sick of these women being the glue that’s held their marriages together for however long it lasted, then getting the short end of the stick when their husbands allow for it to crash and burn.  It may take two to ‘tango’, but it only takes one to break the trust forever and destroy a marriage- leaving the lives of their children and of their once beloved wives in shambles... Their exes now faced with the struggle and uncertainty of how to move forward with their new lives, in the rubble that remains.......