Monday, August 15, 2016

Love Hangover

Motherhood. So amazing. So wonderful. So hard but yet so easy. So easy but yet so hard.

What is it like to have a child? A tiny person who you and only you are totally responsible for and who is just the best (and sometimes worst) little person on the planet? Well, put over the moon elation, OMGWTF fear, the deepest depth of love, wanting to hide in a box like worry, tears of pure joy, laughter from the happiest of happy, a dash of feeling totally clueless, and a pinch of "I got this" all into a blender and drink it, drink the whole thing, feel it bubbly in your belly, get drunk and dizzy on it and thats what its like to be a parent. An overflow of all the emotions all bundled into one feeling. And it's brilliant.

When I was younger I didn't really think much about if I would have kids or not. I just though that if I did that's great and if I didn't that is also great. But then somewhere between 25 and my 10 year high school reunion the baby fever started and never went away. Baby fever comes on much like a real fever, out of nowhere. But unlike a real fever it does not respond to rest and medicine. It doesn't even respond to logic and reason. It's only cure is having a baby.

My daughter was born exactly one month before my 33 birthday. I remember the last push and her coming out of me like it just happened. I remember her being put on my chest and how warm she was. I remember thinking she was so beautiful. I wept from happiness and fell in love instantly. My son was born 4.5 years later and just like his sister before him I remember every detail of his birth. I wept happy tears and just loved him as soon as I saw him.

When I was pregnant with my daughter I was asked by someone if I was ready for my life to be over. I was told by this person that I better be ready to give everything up, I better have gone to every city I have ever wanted to visit, seen every concert I ever wanted to see and chased every dream I have ever had; cause once the baby comes it's time to hang up my adventure shoes. Life. Is. Over. Let me be the first to tell you that what I was told is complete bullshit. It's absolutely not true. If anything it's the opposite, life doesn't end, it STARTS. My goodness it just explodes with beginnings. To say its over is so far from what is true.

Having a child puts it all in perspective. You understand what is really important and what is a waste of time. You have a deeper respect for the big picture. You finally understand how much your own parents love you. You have a new found motivation to just be better at everything. Life makes sense. You just get it. People say you don't know what love is until you have kids. I don't think that's true. Everyone knows what love is. I think a better way to explain it is you don't know how deep the rabbit hole goes until you have a baby. Let me tell you, it's deep y'all. That rabbit hole goes way way down there. You are constantly in love and so happy and feel like you have won the love lottery.

On the flip side of this is a big fat reminder that you know nothing. There is frustration and a feeling of failure. Some days are hard. Like harder than Algebra 2 hard.Your beautiful little hell child is having a tantrum to end all tantrums and refuses to listen. They have drawn on the walls with a Sharpie that appeared out of nowhere, rejected the dinner you have worked so hard to prepare, called you a "poopie butt mommy" and poured milk on the TV. Any feeling of patience has evaporated and you yell at your beautiful little hell child. And then they cry. Congratulations! You're officially an asshole. Because only an asshole would make their own child cry. It's in these moments that you really realize that you know nothing. Nothing at all. And it sucks. You don't know what you have done to deserve this. You want to give up. You think to yourself "what the hell did I get myself into?" and "why am I such an awful mother?" Then you cry. You want to have wine for dinner and just go to bed. But you can't. You are the parent. You have to be present. So after you take your moment to collect yourself, you go get your baby, talk about why you got mad, have a hug and move on. You do however still have wine for dinner because you deserve that.

Being a parent is a constant whirlwind of you know it all and you know squat. Some days are easy and pintrest perfect. Others are a mind trip like a David Lynch movie; and oddly enough, you're okay with that. Because that's all part of the adventure. And it's the best adventure there is.

Friday, July 15, 2016

House Hunting


So basically this whole "house hunting" thing has me in nots, tears, elation, confusion, and in a constant state of wanting to cry or throw up. I absolutely positively H A T E it.

I should be grateful that we even can buy a house. But it's almost like we can't because every house we can afford gets scooped up by some greedy house flipping asshole for a hundred plus thousand dollars more than what we could ever pay. And unless we want to live in some half burnt out former crack den theres nothing left to buy and even then we still get out bid. And on the rare occasion we do get a tiny taste of possible escrow it all goes away before the ink is even dry on our offer. Be it by a higher bidder swooping in at the last minute, or the seller wanting even more money, or us (me and the family) not fitting "the mold" of who they hoped would buy the property. No exaggeration all of those things have happened to us on our house hunting journey, however illegal and infuriating some may be, they have happened.

Though if I may, since I am being openly honest,  I am more angered by house flippers. I feel they are ruining the market and are totally part of the problem, not the solution. For starters, putting in a $10k dollar  home depot clearance special kitchen does not add $80k dollars in value to a home. Sorry buddy but it just doesn't. It is not my intention to piss off or offend any house flippers out there, I am just stating my emotions about it.

It is so frustrating that we have officially quite looking. Well for this week anyway. I am still holding out hope that we will find one. Though that hope is dying. I know that sounds utterly dramatic but it's true. And that kills me a little. I have always been a positive thinker. It's challenging at times, especially now that I'm feeling so defeated. I'm usually very good at the whole "It's not meant to be" school of thought. However we have now made 12, yes TWELVE-- offers and have been out bid on every single one; I ask myself how many times can something be "not meant to be" before just throwing in the towel?

Stay positive they say, you'll find it they say, just keep looking and visualizing they say; I'm rolling my eyes at you I say...

So yeah, I'm finding it harder and harder to keep my positive self going. Which is super silly of me when looking at the big picture. I know I'm feeling sorry for myself, much like a child complaining of having nothing to do while sitting in their room that's filled with toys. I have a lot to be positive about but I'm focusing so much on how I DIDN'T get what I want that the positivity that is normally there is just looking blankly at me shrugging it's shoulders saying "F**k it"

Because the truth is staying positive right now is exhausting. I know it's the best choice to be that way but, what I really want to do is jump up and down screaming "This isn't fair!!" I know there's so much going on in the world that is actually worth getting really mad about and what I'm upset about is totally selfish in comparison. "Oh boo hoo I can't buy the house I want" makes me sound like a spoiled brat. But at the same token it's important to honor ones feelings. So I'm trying to do that now though I'm not doing it very well because it makes me feel terrible. Even though I know it's all relative or whatever.

But it all just makes me feel icky. Every part of it. The looking, the wanting, the not getting, the feeling upset. Every single part of it. Is it even worth it? I guess I am the only one who can answer that question though. For now I say the answer is Wine, and to do as Dory says, except switch swimming to renting. "Just keep renting, just keep renting...". And I'll keep looking too. Cause maybe we will get a lucky number 13?

Friday, July 08, 2016

A deal is a deal

Saint Jude is my favorite saint. I really truly believe that he hears when you're asking for help and comes through for you in your times of need, especially when you're feeling totally and completely helpless. With that said, his novena is nothing short of magic. I got what I asked for and as promised I am publishing the prayer....

May the sacred heart of Jesus be adored, glorified, loved, and preserved throughout the world now and forever. Sacred heart of Jesus pray for us. Saint Jude worker of miracles pray for us. Saint Jude helper of the hopeless pray for us.

Say this prayer nine times a day of nine days (a novena) and your prayer will be answered. You must promise to publish the prayer.

Like I said a deal is a deal and a promise is a promise.

Monday, June 27, 2016

Aspiring Zen Master

When I was little I had a terrible time with anxiety. Every night as I would lay in bed I would just worry myself sick with all of these nightmare scenarios. What-if's plagued me until I was about twelve and I realized that none of the stuff I had ever worried about actually happened. 

I am much older now. But I still battle the occasional worries. I call myself a professional what-ifer. 
I have gotten very good at being able to be able to reason with myself and calm my mind out of it. Lots of deep breathing and meditating will take it right away. Sometimes though it's not that easy. I'll know I am being silly, I'll know I am moving towards what I call "the dark side" where I will just let the worry be all consuming and wash over me and take the drivers seat; a place where the worry wins and I am a nervous anxious mess. It usually only lasts a little while and it doesn't interfere with my daily life too much. But it will be there, just hanging around like a nuisance that serves no purpose other than to bother me. 

My second pregnancy was probably the easiest least complicated pregnancy in the history of pregnancies. Like for seriously. Just easy as pie. No complications, No morning sickness. Labor was easy. All of it was totally text book fine. But rather than enjoy that, I spent the entire time (39 weeks 2 days) worried about all of the things that could go wrong. How very foolish of me. Now that he is almost 10 weeks old (and healthy and perfect and asleep on me as I type this with one hand) I wish I could go back and just enjoy it. That's my life lesson. To worry less and enjoy more. I imagine when I'm in my nineties I will feel the same way. But it won't be just about my pregnancy, it will be about my whole life. That I worried the whole thing away. 

I sometimes wish life was like a wikifilm page, where I can read how it ends. I can see that everything turns out just fine and then go watch the movie with the ease of knowing it's all going to be okay. But life isn't like that. We wake up everyday and just go. Trusting and living in the moment. 
Something else I am also working on. 

I so wish I was zen master like my mother, or my aunt. Both are amazing examples of chopping wood, carrying water. For example, a few years ago my mom found a skin growth on her arm. I asked her what it could be. She calmly shrugged and said "It's probably a skin cancer. I see my doctor in a few days. I am not too worried." As it turned out it was just a small patch of dry skin from a previous sun burn. Nothing to worry about. But if that had been me with the skin growth? Good Lord! I would have been a hot mess, frantically and obsessively searching webmd and Doctor Google and practically writing my own eulogy. Is that rational? Or even healthy? No. But is that what I do? Yes. The struggle is real as I don't know how to be any other way. 

So there that is. My biggest flaw. Out in the open. 

But I will say this, I am working on it. I am always working on it. The worry is a bad habit akin to one bitting their finger nails,; I learned somewhere and I just have to UNlearn it. It will take some time and determination but I know eventually it will be gone. I guess you could say that right now, I want to be carrying the water but I am not done chopping the wood. Almost done, but not just yet. 

Monday, June 13, 2016

PB on a rice cake

It has been years, years, since I have written anything. To be honest I cannot remember the last thing I wrote or even the last time I did it. I think I wanted a fresh start or for something to feel new, so for whatever reason I deleted all my previous posts on here. In hindsight that was kind of stupid because I erased all that history. There's no use over thinking that. I did it and can't change it. So we are. New post being written that I hopefully won't end up deleting.

I love to write but, after I have not done it in a while I forget that I love it. Much like peanut butter on a rice cake. It has to be one of my most favorite snacks. I could eat that all day long. But I don't remember how much I really love them until it's all that's left in the pantry when I'm starving; and I'll remember "these are so good! why don't I eat them all the time?" They're even better with the occasional drizzle of honey. But I'll go to the store and get other snacks and weeks will pass and I will not have a PBRC until there's nothing left to snack on but that.

It's the same with writing. I won't do it or will avoid doing it but once I actually start to write I love it and want to do it all the time. I think I don't write very often because I talk myself out of it. I will tell myself that nothing I write will be any better than what everyone else is already writing.

Everyone wants to be recognized for something or to "go viral". And while that is totally normal and fine, it annoys me. Cause it makes me feel like whatever I write is just like what every one else is doing or writing too and I am just one of the million of other people out there with some blog about life and whatnot. I am sure that makes me sound like a horrible person. And I honestly do not mean it to. I just feel like so many people do it now, it's not special anymore. What makes what I write or have to say any different than what a million other people are doing or writing? Why would anyone want to read what I have to say?

And I guess there in lies the rub. What is my true motivation? What are my intentions? If I am being honest, totally completely honest; it's just to write and put it out there. If nobody ever reads it, that's fine. I just love to do it. It's my PB on a rice cake. And if anyone ever does read it, well that's great too. That's PB on a rice cake with a little drizzle of honey. Either way it's a great snack that I love. Honey or no honey.