10 Things That Make Me Happy

I got tagged. Alex at Whoa-Mumma tagged me for a meme. My first! How awesome is that?

So, here goes:

Ten Things That Make Me Happy - Forgotten Fairy Tale Edition:

1) My children. They are my heart, soul, and sanity. I love them beyond words and yet I could talk about them all day. Can we say oxymoron?

2) My mom. She's my best friend and my biggest fan. That's a happy-making combination right there.

3) My homemade lasagna. I could eat my weight in the stuff. It's that tasty and it's one of the few things my boys will eat no matter what.

4) Candied yams. Somewhat good for you meets melted marshmallows and brown sugar. What's not to like?

5) Comfortable clothes and shoes. I am all about the comfort and there is nothing like a pair of jeans that are broke in just right and a soft, snugly tee shirt and hoodie combo with some thick, warm socks and the cutest boots ever (which are out of commission because of a messed up heel *sniff sniff*).

6) Security. I love knowing my doors and windows are locked, my electrical sockets are covered with safety plugs, my car has airbags, there's money in the bank, there are plenty of clothes for my babies and myself, there's food in the fridge, blankets on the beds (heck, beds to sleep on). Things like this make me happy because it lets me know I'm providing for my babies and myself and that's a powerful feeling.

7) Smiles. It makes me happy to see other people smile, especially if I'm the one who made them smile. It's fun to make other people happy because you make yourself happy in the process.

8) New car smell. I can't help it. Sitting in a new car and smelling the freshness that is a brand-spanking-new, sparkly, clean, plush, never-before owned automobile is just the shiznit. (Note: I've never actually owned a brand-new car so it is just something I lust for that I probably won't get for a long time. I like to go to car dealerships every once in a while and just get in a new, pretty SUV (Tahoe...OMG. I soooo want one.) and pretend I could actually take it home with me.

9) Sleeping in. I rarely get to sleep late and when I do it is so great. All that rest! I don't know what to do with myself after I've gotten more than 7 hours of sleep. If that sleep is uninterrupted, wow. Just. Wow. *cue Hallelujah chorus sang by angels here*

Which brings me to the last thing that makes me happy...

10) A good massage. I've only had a professional massage one time and it was spectacular. I love to have someone give me a massage that knows what they are doing (even if they aren't a professional, just really good at it). It's so relaxing.

So, now I've got to tag 10 people myself. Look out, everyone.

Anne

Tuesday Girl

Bon

Sam

The New Girl

The Domestic Goddess

Mir

Shawn

Tanis

Catherine

That about does it. So, go make 11 things that make me happy. I like reading blogs, too.

Things I failed to notice...

I had a conversation with my mom Christmas Day that had me thinking. She was a little peeved at herself and for once, I didn't do it. She had bought a present and wrapped it with the intentions of slipping it under my tree so that I would have a present to open for myself on Christmas morning from the babies since I'm not attached to anyone and my babies can't exactly go out shopping. She forgot it at home when she came to help me put together the train set Christmas Eve night.

I honestly didn't even notice that I didn't have a present under the tree. I was so wrapped up in enjoying my time with the babies that I didn't pay any attention to the things that were missing.

I failed to notice that I didn't have any presents under the tree.

I failed to notice that there was anyone missing from my house because I was having so much fun with my babies that the time flew by. (I'm not just writing this to try to convince myself either. The more I've thought about it, the more I realize that I didn't miss him that morning.)

I failed to notice the mistletoe was gone. The only people I wanted to give kisses to that morning, I had right there and I gave them plenty of smooches. I hugged and kissed all my babies and told them I loved them very much and I was glad that they were enjoying their Christmas.

I failed to notice that I was not part of a couple for Christmas. I wasn't alone. I had my children.

The only time I noticed that anything was missing was during the time that my soon-to-be-ex had my babies at his house to do Christmas with him. I definitely noticed my children missing for those few hours. It tore my heart out that they weren't there playing with their new toys and squealing with delight every time something lit up or played a song.

I missed them terribly.

As soon as they were home with me again, I was fine. I feel like I've lost an extension of myself every time that they are gone. I miss them when I'm at work. I miss them when they are at his house. I miss them when they're hanging out with their grandma while I run to the store. If they aren't with me, I miss them. Plain and simple. (I really don't know how my mom stands it with us either moved out or gone all the time. I just can't imagine them not living with me. Craziness speaking, huh?)

I don't want my mom to worry about me. I'm holding up just fine. I can tell you what I didn't miss at all that morning. I didn't miss the arguing, the awkward dealings with his parents who never really liked my opinionated a$$ anyways, and the constant strain of his complaints about my loud, rowdy, loving family. I didn't miss him making my holiday miserable because I didn't have to deal with him for more than the few minutes it took him to pick up the babies and drop them back off again. I stayed plenty busy while my little ones were gone. I cleaned like an OCD neat-freak on crack getting up the breakfast mess and then I organized toys. I put away what I wanted in their rooms and straighted up everything else. I pulled tags off of new clothes so they could be washed and I made every one's beds. I took a long, hot shower and gathered what I needed for our visit to my mom's later that evening.

I only cried for a few minutes after he left with my babies. AND it was ONLY because he left with my babies, not because I didn't want him to leave. (I actually couldn't wait for him to get out of my house. He brought his mom with him and she's nuts so I didn't want her scoping out how many entryways there were in case she was getting any vandalism ideas. Same for him. I keep the doors and windows locked at all times.)

I had a great Christmas for our first one post-split. It actually worked more to my advantage because he chose to change the plans and not keep the babies overnight. That suited me fine because I didn't want to spend Christmas night without my kids. He shorted himself. He may not think so right now because he's chasing his new piece of tail but it will hit him one day. I can rest easy knowing that I'm there for the majority of it. I don't miss much. I intend to be there for the rest of it, too. I won't miss those moments because those three sweet angels are what's important to me.

My babies made my Christmas all I could have ever hoped it would be and I don't need a present under the tree to make my life complete. Their smiles Christmas morning were all I needed and I had plenty of those.

Poking holes in the ozone layer, one toy at a time...

It's that time of year again. The time when I scour a possible 600 square mile radius (who's got time to measure?) of my hometown looking for the perfect gifts.

All those tiny pieces of plastic that come together to make the do-dads and thing-a-ma-jigs that make my little people happy. Sometimes you will go to extremes to find that perfect present. Come sit by the fire (from the rubber melting off the tires of my mom's 4-wheel drive after we drove it all over tar nation) and I will tell you a story of terror, woe, object lust, and sheer devotion to all things non-breakable.

Our story begins with our travelers. First, there is myself; the lactating, hormone-crazed mother (who can't hear the Christmas Shoes song on the radio without crying EVERY DAMN TIME) in search of the one toy to make my babies' Christmas PERFECT. Second, there is my Mom; the almost level-headed (but not quite or we would not be telling this insane story) yin to my whacked-out yang. Last, but only least in size, my little baby girl (who due to her penchant for attacking whatever is within reach shall now be dubbed Grabby) who was unwittingly suckered into traveling with us due to her love of my food-producing chesticles.

Due to some unsightly weather in my neck of the woods on Friday night, we had approximately 8 to 10 inches of snow on Saturday morning. After much calling back and forth and killing of cellphone batteries, it was decided that we would be traveling in my mom's ride, also known as The Jackrabbit, because thankfully it is an all-wheel drive and can go somewhat in the snow. After waiting around to make sure the roads were going to get scraped (it only took a few hours, sheesh), we finally got everyone loaded and headed down the road. Now, before we could go to our destination, we had to make a few stops (this is where it gets hairy).

Our first stop was at my soon-to-be-ex's house to drop off the twins because without a vehicle, he wasn't exactly hiking to my house in the snow to get them. His house is on the other side of some truly dangerous roads (and these are when they're dry). We finally made it to his house after some seriously butt-clinching moments of driving about 5 miles an hour off the side of a mountain and back up the other side. We unloaded the boys and all of their various paraphernalia which I was tempted to keep just for the weight in the vehicle. After that, we proceeded back off the mountain and up the other side again (I mean really, is it too much to ask for some guardrail on roads where if you slide off you may as well kiss your a$$ good-bye because there is nothing but imminent death on the other side?). We unload two car seats back at my mom's house because have you ever tried to put anything else in a tiny SUV with 3 car seats in it? Not happening.

OK, so now we are on our way. We drive for what seems like forever (it is when you don't ride well in the back of a car without wanting to hurl and your baby Grabby won't let you ride up front because she wants company) and we finally get to one of our destinations. After multiple pics of one very cute little girl with various hats on her head,we make a purchase and head to our next destination, Giant Toy Store populated with various persons of questionable natures.

I enter with a mission on my mind, find that PERFECT gift for my babies. I wander aisle to aisle to aisle to aisle (damn, that place is HUGE!) picking up various toys along the way and tossing them in my shopping cart and I finally stumble upon it. It's awesome! It's great! It's within my price range!!! Now, where the hell is it in a box that I can purchase and pet all the way back to my house, where I will lovingly put it together for my kids enjoyment? Searching, searching, finally found a salesperson. "Hi there, Salesperson! Do you have any of these in a box hidden somewhere in the storeroom since there aren't any out here in a box?" (Said with big smile and bug-eyes. Which is probably why he kept backing away from me.) Salesperson goes to check in the back of the store somewhere that must have been really far away because he took FOREVER to get back as I anxiously paced the floor giving anyone who stopped to look at the coveted display of my PERFECT present the evil eye. He finally shows back up and by the look on his face before he even gets to me I can tell he's almost afraid to tell me that they DON'T have it.

This is the part with the woe. They don't even have any of another one that was smaller but costs more (WTF?). So, now I'm mad. I'm ready to go home and just call it a day. Which is exactly what we did. We were only two and a half hours past Grabby's bedtime by the time we got home (OMG, what a trip). I did come back with some awesome toys but not THE TOY that I wanted. The next morning I get up and get ready and call the Giant Toy Store in Another Location and lo and behold, they have it! Lots of it according to the nice salesperson on the phone (who hung up on me about 6 times before actually answering the phone. Learn how to use a damn phone, woman. Seriously.) After much begging and pleading, she still wouldn't hide one for me or put my name on it, so we jumped back in The Jackrabbit, and up the interstate we headed. What would normally be a little less than a two-hours drive, turned into a three-hour tour (got that song stuck in your head now, don't you?) after getting stuck in accident traffic twice. Apparently when it snows, city people forget how to drive. It's the damnedest thing I've ever seen. We get to our destination after some confusion about it's location (Hello, GPS on my phone. Nice to finally remember to use you, huh?) We get there and I again walk/shove a cart frantically/run over a few people's toes in my search for the PERFECT gift. No display to be seen. FINALLY!! OVER THERE!! There are six left (well, five if you leave out the one with the box that looks like it got mangled by a T-Rex). I hug the box, and ask the nearest Salesperson if he could help me get it loaded into my uber-huge shopping cart. He says no. After getting the look of death he laughs. Consider me not amused little Salesperson. I'm bigger than you and I'm pretty sure I can take you out with one punch. I'm THAT hormonal mother you were warned by your boss to not f*ck with in your morning meeting that you were apparently sleeping through when you finally dragged your late, lazy a$$ into work this morning. Try that humor stuff on someone who doesn't have homicidal tendencies when it comes to Christmas shopping cause this little woman ain't having it.

Anyways, where were we? Oh, yeah. I found it! After a few questions about what to load it on, he rolled away with it on a hand truck and promised to meet me at the registers. Needless to say, I didn't let him out of my sight until I made sure it was where I would be able to find it when I finally got around to the registers to pay for it (because as you know, babies have to be changed and when you're shopping with the grandma, guess who gets nominated? I can see you smiling, you must have played this game before.) Make to the register, the girl rings me up and strong-arm's me into the extended warranty because heaven forbid that this toy ever get a dent! Anywho, out the door with another poor sucker who got tricked into loading it for me. More debate about how it will fit in the mini-SUV and some seat folding and we finally had it in the car! Another two and a half hours later, we're home and we only had a couple of butt-clinching moments on the interstate on the way back! (Damn out-of-state drivers...)

So, after much ado about nothing...here it is. The PERFECT present for my twins...
Isn't it great?!? (Said with that looney tunes look on my face...)

Now, anyone got a few hours and some spare tools they'd like to bring over? You provide the manual labor, I'll cook dinner? No takers? Well, it was worth asking. Wish me luck on putting this thing together so that it doesn't come apart when one of the boys nudges it. I'm off to destroy the ozone layer with all my burning thoughts and heated, under-my-breath creative cussing as I put this thing together...

Katie, bar the door.

It has began.

That time when you can't go pee without little fingers wiggling under the door and someone rattling the door knob. (All the while I have my littlest one who still has to accompany me to the bathroom if I'm going to be gone very long because I can't leave her alone with her brothers much for fear of bodily harm.)

I tried to take a $hit last night with my foot wedged against the door because I now have a child who can turn door knobs. (Oh, boy!) I guess it's time to start locking the door, huh? He also figured out how to turn lights off and on. (Anyone ever tried to cook in the dark? It ain't easy.)

So now I sneak to the bathroom and hope that they don't notice I'm missing for the 3 minutes that it takes me to sit, pee, wipe, stand and wash my hands. It has turned into 3 minutes that I cherish just for the alone time.

And that warning I got from my mother about not hoping that they start saying my name too soon. Yeah. She may have been right about that one. The number of times I say "What?" in answer to my name being called is too big of a number to type out right now.

The whining. OMG! THE WHINING! What made my little laid back boy such a sissy all of a sudden? One minute he's happily playing and the next minute he drops a car and it's on. Throwing himself in the floor and kicking. Sheesh. It's a car. Pick it up and keep playing. Then there's my high-strung little guy. He flies off the handle and rages through the house like a tornado destroying whatever is in his path. All temper and fury, he almost makes me giggle when he does this and it just pisses him off more so I have to keep my grin in check or he starts terrorizing his brother and sister in his anger.

Such emotions now. I still can't get used to it. One minute they are sweet as Georgia peaches and the next it's like trying to pet a porcupine. I love them beyond comprehension so it wounds me when they won't let me comfort them. They get hurt and sometimes they want me to cuddle them and make it all better. Other times, they want me as far away as possible so they can throw a monumental tantrum because I can't make it better. That push and pull of wanting independence and still wanting Mommy is hard.

So, as I wedge myself in the bathroom, I'll keep in mind that I still stand outside the door and pester my mom when I'm visiting her so I may as well get used to it. It's going to be a long time before I pee in peace again.

A little peek into my soul...

I wasn't really sure what I wanted to write about today. I've been back and forth about how I'm feeling and what I'm thinking and what effect any of that should have on my blogging.

I just started this little site and I'm already wondering if I divulge too much. I read enough blogs to know that most of the time it's not enough to just talk about your everyday life. People want inside your head. They want to read your mind and see what kind of thoughts are lurking in there. I hate to admit it but sometimes I feel like I'm blogging from the shallow end of the brain pool. I'm not always deep. Sometimes I'm lucky if I'm remembering to breathe without headphones and a voice in my ear telling me to inhale and exhale repeatedly.

I read a post by the Redneck Mommy that got me thinking today. She was asked what the hardest thing she's ever done was by her son. The grace with which she answered this question made me cry. She's been through a lot for someone with so few years under her belt.

I've seen my fair share of hard things. Hard stuff tends to stack itself on my shoulders one on top of the other. When hard stuff hits, it travels in packs around my neck of the woods.

I've lost a brother in a car accident.

I've lost a grandfather four days after I turned 13.

I've miscarried a child.

I've given birth to twin boys.

I've then given birth to a little girl.

I watched my parents divorce.

I'm getting divorced myself.

I'm raising three small children on my own (but for the grace of God).

I've moved countless times.

I've been in love and had my heart broken.

I've been injured and sick.

I still survive. I still get up every morning (or afternoon if I can manage to get a nap in). I open my eyes. I take a deep breath and I join the world in whatever it is we all do to fill our time. I decide if I want to be happy or sad or lonely or annoying. But most importantly, I haven't given up. No matter the temptation to crawl back under those covers, hide my head, and pretend the sun didn't rise. No matter how much it hurts to just breathe some days, I still do it.

Does that make me tough? Does it make me a force to be reckoned with? I doubt it.

Does it make me proud? You bet your sweet a$$ it does. The number of people who cave, who give in, who refuse to get up when life smacks them down is unreal. They commit suicide. They close their doors and hide behind dark curtains. The let down everyone around them as they wallow in their own grief.

I'm not one of those.

I get up. I dust myself off. I am grateful that I'm able to see another second go by because that's one more second I have experienced. It's one more second that I get to see my sweet babies' faces. One more second I get to tell my mom I love her. One more second that I get to hug my brother (no matter how much he squirms). One more second that I get to feel that special whatever it is that makes us human.

I'm damn glad about that. How about you?

Quirks and me...

Who will accept me? As I am. Not as they want me to be. Not as they think they can make me be. Not as someone else they emulate is. Just as me.

Will someone accept me for my flaws? Maybe even like a few of them? I'll admit I'm a little OCD (OK, probably a LOT OCD) but not in the have to touch doorknobs 32 times kind of way, just in the I like my laundry folded my way so just let me fold it myself kind of way.

When will someone actually pay attention to the things that I like? I mean really pay attention to them. Things like plain long-sleeve tee shirts and small earrings. Or that I wear the same necklace all the time because it says mom and I don't want another necklace because I won't wear it anyways (and don't even get me started on bracelets and how I don't EVER wear a single one).

And routine. I like routine. I could do the same stuff over and over. I'm cool with it. Routine makes me feel safe. I like when things settle and I don't have to move my belongings. I have a place for everything. It makes it easier to find and dammit I like it facing a certain direction (don't come in my office and keep playing with my paperweights after I have asked you to leave them alone, you annoying office woman).

I'm a perfectionist. I own it and wear it proudly. I also don't expect the same from other people. I know that someone else is not going to clean their house to the eat off the floor standards that I have. I also know that not everyone who comes into mine is going to respect those things that I do that make me happy. All I ask is that you take the time to learn a little about me before you start trying to decide what I may or may not like.

My taste in decorations is very simple. I won't put up a giant impressionist painting in my house. I have a low threshold for noise, light, and general busy activity. Too much going on and I melt down faster that a nuclear power plant after a containment breach. I just can't handle it.

Same goes for pain. My tolerance for it is very small. I'm a sissy. If you kick me by accident, you better apologize. I'll carry around that resentment for weeks if you don't. I hate to be hurting and I don't look for sympathy. I just want to be left alone unless I need help with something that I can't handle because I'm hurting. And if I do something stupid and get hurt. You better run for the hills because I don't want you to even acknowledge that I exist. Don't offer help getting me off the ground. I'm dying of embarrassment and I don't want anyone to even notice that I just fell on my a$$. Let me pick myself up and wipe myself off and let's go on like nothing ever happened.

I don't like to have my feelings hurt. I turn into a major b*tch when someone hurts my feelings. I have definitely been known to dole out the silent treatment a little too often. If I'm ignoring you, you probably pissed on my parade somewhere down the line.

When I enter a place, don't expect an immediate hello from me. I don't operate that way. I will come in, take my coat off, get settled in, and go say hi to the person I am there to see first. The rest of you will have to wait until I am in and prepared to speak. It takes me a minute. Don't expect me to stand in the entryway and chit chat while wearing a hot coat and carrying approximately 40 pounds of baby, car seat, and diaper bag. I'm not fu*king superwoman, I'm a tired mom.

Speaking of tired mom. My brain is so scattered, the squirrels can't help me gather it all up for winter, got me? If I ask you something about 50 times, just accept it that I cannot remember. I really am that damn senile. I forget things constantly and have to either turn around and go home or suffer without them. I'm not reliable to remember plans if they aren't written on my calendar directly in front of my face and half the time I will still forget. Sorry. I just can't help it. And don't be offended if I don't remember you telling me something. I seriously can barely remember to find matching socks (I'd say if I wasn't so OCD, I would probably just say screw it about the socks).

I am always in a hurry. It happens. I am perpetually late and I can almost never seem to get out of the house on time. I get up 3 hours before I have to have the babies dropped off at daycare and be at work and you know what? I am still late at least once a week, if not more. I suck at time management. With all that I have on my plate right now as well as probably being somewhat depressed, what with the divorce situation pending, the custody battles, the girlfriend situation, the holidays that I'm spending alone (yes, I know I'll have my babies but it's still not the same when you don't have anyone to kiss under the mistletoe and you're sleeping alone at night), and facing money situations at every turn, I'm lucky if I can remember my damn name. (Oh, sweet amnesia, why do you haunt me so?)

Well, I think I've spilled enough venom all over the Internet for today. I feel a little better. Maybe there's a guy out there reading this thinking, "Hey baby!". More than likely, the guys out there are running away screaming and going "You have got to be crazy if you think you're going to find someone to put up with your looney tunes a$$.". They say that there is someone out there for everyone. I think my someone is a missing person.

Singing praises...

My babies go to an in-home daycare during the day while I work. I go at lunchtime and feed my little boobie baby as my big boys are eating their lunch.

The very first day I walked in to meet the man and woman (yes, her husband is also a caregiver! Awesome role-model!) I felt welcomed. It takes a big heart to open your home to strangers, especially when those strangers are usually under 3 feet tall, mostly non-verbal, and require you to wipe their butts, noses, and hands for them on a regular basis.

The very first time I met the couple I will call Meemaw and Pappy, I had my little girl with me. She shook my hand after I sat my little one's car seat down and we talked for just a few minutes before she asked if she could hold my little girl. When I saw her snuggle my tiny baby up close and coo to her and sniff her hair, I knew this was the perfect place to bring my babies. (She later admitted to me that she just fell in love with my little one as soon as she saw her sweet face. Isn't that the nicest thing to hear from someone?) Pappy gardens and grows all types of vegetables (which they cook for the kids! No pesticides! Fresh food! Yay!) and to hear Meemaw talk about him in his garden, you can just hear the pride in her voice. You can tell that they really care about each other.

My children have flourished under their care and learned so much. They smile every time that they see them. My little girl grins from ear to ear as soon as they speak to her and my boys run right in the door and start excitedly talking to them in the mornings. When I walk in today, I feel as welcome as I did the very first day I met them. I feel as though I have truly been blessed to have found them and my babies are lucky to have them in their lives.

I just wanted to sing the praises for the lovely people who care for my babies when I'm away earning a paycheck. Do you have someone like this in your life for which you are grateful? What makes them so wonderful to you?

Warm fuzzy feeling.

Well, between the time the landlord called me and the time I got home, the lights were on. Life is good to me like that sometimes.

Other times, life treats me like I'm it's little b*tch and it feels like slapping me around for not being all that I can be, or something like that.

I had that warm, fuzzy feeling this morning. Life was going grand. Then...I figured out I left my ibuprofen and my antibiotics at home. Crap.

*A few short hours later*

Sneezing, coughing, nose running off my face, aching muscles have returned. Yay.

So, enough about me and my disgusting health problems.

I have a question again. When you put up your Christmas tree, do you put garland on it or not?

I like lots of lights and some of those shiny icicles but I'm not a big fan of the garland. I'll put it around the windows, etc. but I don't like it on the tree. It's just too cluttered. I have a million and one ornaments anyways and my sweet little ones are getting big enough to start making me decorations at daycare, so I really need the space. I don't have anything against people who put garland on their trees, I just don't have room on mine. It can look really great on a tree that's all coordinated and stuff. Speaking of coordinated, what do you think of trees that are decorated based on one or two colors and everything all matchy?

My trees growing up were always multicolored lights and a hodgepodge of handmade ornaments that we delicately haphazardly slowly placed ran to the tree so we could run back after another ornament and say we got to put more ornaments on the tree than the other siblings. I always loved that and I really want my kids to experience it (the tree with the handmade ornaments, not the foot race to see who could decorate the fastest). My mom always made sure that we understood the ornaments we made for her meant more to her than anything we could have gotten in a store. That's love right there. I'll never forget how she beamed every time we finished decorating and raved about how beautiful the tree looked that year. Every year it was better than the year before.

Times have changed and we have grown up some. My mom is a grandma and she loves it. She lets her grand babies decorate her tree now. And you know what? She still raves about how beautiful it is. My mom has the biggest heart of anyone I know and I can't wait to spend time with her again this Christmas.

I hope everyone has warm fuzzies today!!!

Let there be light!

The power is out at my house. The winds here are unreal. The hunt for batteries and lamps is on. Say a prayer for us as we hope that there will be lights on by morning. At least I have heat in the new house. Yay for gas logs!!

*pinches arm* Owww! Ok, not a dream.

Hope this helps my sinus infection go away. Isn't cold air good for the sinuses?

Oh, well. Keep us in your thoughts. I will update tomorrow when I get to a computer with internet again.

*waves bye with mittened hands*

The business of being me.

Sometimes I forget who I am. I forget that I'm a mom. I forget that I'm a daughter. I forget that I'm a sister, a friend, a lover (well, used to be...), an employee. I forget it all.

I'm alone. Shopping or riding in my car. Maybe I'm just walking around outside. I'm not anything to anyone. I'm just me.

That's when things get interesting. What do I want to be? Where do I want to go? Do I even want to wear this shirt?

Introspection is a funny thing. You never know when it will sneak up on you but when it does it almost always blindsides you. I never make time to just sit and think about all the W's. The who, what, when, where, whys (or how's.). It just happens. One minute I'm folding laundry, the next I'm trying to decide if I really want to be an accountant. Or if I may want more kids later on with someone else that I haven't even met yet.

Then there are other times that I'm just trying to figure out if I'm doing my best being the other Me's. The mom. Am I really being the best mom for my children? Do I provide enough for them? Am I loving enough? Have I scarred them in some way? The daughter. Have I lived up to all my mother hoped I would be? Do I rely on my mom too much? The sister. Why can't I be closer with my baby brother? Why doesn't he ever talk to me? Am I remembering my younger brother the best way I can? Or is my memory of him fading as more time passes since his accident? The friend. Do I support my friends the way that I should? Do I need to do better at keeping my communications with them more regular? The lover. Well, I guess I can skip that since I'm not exactly on any one's love list right now. The employee. Oh, boy. I have got to get some dress clothes that fit. I really need to start looking the part. Since having kids, my body shape has changed so much that nothing I own fits right. (Again, this is where I come second to the needs of my kids. They get new clothes before I do. If I can still get my a$$ in my pants, I'll keep wearing them.)

Any who. How do you know which "you" is you? What does it mean to be true to yourself if you aren't sure what "yourself" is? I mean seriously. I play so many roles in my daily life that I'm not sure if there's room for one more. Tell me, how do you define "you"?

The snow

Softly falling
So pristine
The snow rips out my mind

It's so pure
I'm so messy
There's no peace I can find

Tug of war
Back and forth
Why can't we just agree?

Constant battle
Tit for tat
What's best for the small parts of me?

Balance thrown
Hope unknown
Why is the ground spinning?

Swirled with white
But seeing red
Some times I think he's winning

Good for me
May be bad for them
And I can't hurt their hearts

Cutting ties
He's telling lies
The final push apart

He's done his best
To drive a wedge
And make this ending worse

I hold my tongue
And bite my lip
Try my best not to curse

Being bigger
Isn't easy
But it's the best for all

It's about them
Not about me
So my back's against the wall

Time will mend
This open wound
Though my heart pounds like the gavel

Out the window
Snow keeps falling
As I slowly unravel

Being sneaky...

I always love Christmas. The lights. The tree. The music. The story. The food.

And the sneaky...I love knowing what I'm getting everyone, especially when I've found that "perfect" gift.

Nothing makes me happier than seeing the look on my family and friends' faces when they open their presents. It is an awesome feeling.

I really like going out and getting the presents, then coming home and creeping in the door after peeking around the edge to make sure no one is in the room as you run through with your packages. Wrapping them while everyone is busy and then making a big show of bringing them out and putting them under the tree one by one. Pretending that some of the larger gifts are really heavy, even if they aren't. I get that giggle of glee just thinking about it. Seeing them eyeing the presents under the tree, trying to guess what's in them. It's one of the few times of the year that I really like having secrets.

I'm that annoying relative that says, "I know what you're getting." (all sing-songy and perky) and makes you want to badger them until they tell you what's under that shiny paper and bow. I get a little creative when they start asking for hints. Its usually nothing like what they're getting but watching them try to figure it out after I tell them its bright yellow and furry tickles me to no end.

The wrapping paper. I'm all about the wrapping paper. I will splurge a little on paper just to get that shiny metallic kind that reflects the Christmas lights on the tree. I love that extra sparkle and my boys are amazed by anything bright and shiny (oh, to be almost 3 again...) and this will be my little girl's first Christmas (I'm so excited I can't stand myself!). The bows I find are usually either holographic or ridiculously huge. I love the goofy stuff. If I can find a bow that dwarfs the smaller presents, I will totally put it on there. I've been known to have presents that look like nothing but a big bow. My family and friends know to check everything because they never know where I'll have a gift stuck.

Then there's the present inside a present. I like that, too. Its fun to see them open something and think its the only thing in the box and then find something wrapped up in the gift or in the pockets, etc.

I am just a Christmas person in general. Having kids has made my Christmas celebrations so much better. They share the joy that I feel and make it that much more delightful. So, tell me. What is your favorite part of Christmas?

To Be or Not to Be...

nice.

I have a problem. I'm being too nice.

The reason this is a problem is because I'm being taken advantage of. I have a hard time saying no when the ones who suffer are my children.

How do you make someone step up and start taking responsibility for their own actions when you can't be there to enforce it? How do you make him see that he isn't the most important person in the world anymore when he has smaller people who rely on him?

When he is willing to forgo the most basic necessities for his children so that he has spending money to date with, how do you force him to provide for his babies? How do you make him see that he isn't the one who suffers when he shirks his parental duties? When he wastes money on useless things that he should be using to buy things like mattresses, sippy cups, and blankets?

I send these things (except the mattresses because I can't tote those back and forth) every other weekend. If I wanted to, I could refuse to bring them. I could send my babies away with nothing but clothes for the weekend. I don't have the heart to make my babies suffer without the things they need. I can't stand the thought that they wouldn't have a drink when they need it because he doesn't want to hold a cup for them. I hate the idea that they may get cold during the night because I didn't send a blanket for them.

I don't have the option to force him to buy these things. I don't have the money to buy all of them for him. I also don't have the option to refuse to let him have the babies until he gets these things either. What do you do? I'm at an impass about how to resolve this situation. Do I keep letting him take advantage of my love for my children and wait it out until I can afford to provide these things for them (and in doing so, let him use me yet again.)? Or do I let my babies suffer and force him into having to buy these things knowing that he will only buy what's absolutely necessary (and make my babies sleep on the couch or on the floor on one of the blankets I bring for them)?

This is hard for me because I cannot sit by and let my babies do without just to force him to step up and be a man. Why does this have to be so damn hard? I would love to pull his head out of his a$$ and make him see what he's doing to the little people who are supposed to be the most important people in his life but I don't know how to wake him up.

What would you do? Where would you draw the line?

PreEEEEEetttyyyy LIIIIIggghhhtttss!

First there's the shout, "LOOK!! LOOK!!".

Then there's the high pitch squealing of "PreEEEEEetttyyyy lIIIIgggghhhttttsss!" by my littlest twin.

They spotted the lights and like crack fiends getting a great fix, they wind up tighter than braided wet hair.

Its all about the lights. Bright, twinkly (is that even a word?), multi-colored lights. Big displays strung from tree to tree in the neighbors yards to small snowflakes lit up on the poles down main street. I didn't know my kids were this observant. They spot them long before I do.

My mom and I took them to a major light display in a town about an hour from home last night and they practically lost their minds with excitement. Little fingers stretched as far out on extended arms as they could get, pointing out every light that caught their eyes. Screams of delight at every turn. Dancing to Christmas music playing on the radio. Even my littlest one was in on all the fun. She likes flashing lights apparently.

It was so much fun and reminded me of the wonder of small children. They truly are amazing. Having kids will make you stop and look at everything from a different perspective. I'm not as jaded about my surroundings as I used to be. I see the world through little eyes and I must say, it's a thrilling place to explore all over again.

Giving up the ghost

How do you let go? When do you realize that you really were left because you weren't wanted?

Those questions have circled through my mind since Saturday. That's the day he decided it was ok to bring his "girlfriend" around my kids.

It's also the day I lost my sh*t and and let him have it with both barrels.

I know that he chose to end our marriage because he wanted out. I also know he wanted out because he already had a target in mind (that he'd already been shooting arrows at, apparently). I really don't care about all that. I've let go of that part (or at least I think I have).

What I haven't let go of is the fact that he's looking for a replacement...for me. Not the me that was his wife. Not even the me that was his partner. The me that is the mother of his children. He's shopping for a replacement mommy for my kids.

I hate to break it to him but he doesn't get to buy that package.

No one replaces me as their mother. It's that simple. No one.

I would do anything to protect them. He better understand that.

No woman will come between me and my children...and neither will he.

I'm that pissed off mama bear making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. That cloud of steam coming out of the dark cave...its me breathing. Slow and steady with a low growl.

Watch your back, girl. Watch your back.