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Bye Bye 3’s

A few more hours left of my heart being 3 years old. I had a little bit of a meltdown on Sunday night as I had her fall asleep, head on my shoulder while reading Princess Pigsty …

3 years ago feels like a few minutes ago but yet at the same time, it feels like 100 years ago – 4 years of sleepless nights does that to a person … 🙂 I was watching video’s of Phoenix today and couldn’t help feel my heart stop every so often – almost begging time to stop for just a moment. Yes, I can ‘savour’ the moments but the moments go by so quickly that you blink and they are gone.

Every day that passes she becomes a little to big to fit into my arms at bed time and a little to big for Princess Pigsty stories. I made a promise to her that I will keep her childlike innocence inside her – to make sure that she never loses the wide-eyed wonder while going through life.

I know I am being totally selfish but I am struggling to let go of the little girl that fits perfectly in my arms at bed time, the one that wakes up with cuddles and stories, of the naked bum that plays in the garden without a care in the world. As much as I will nurture her care free nature, I am not as powerful as what ‘should’ be in the world and what is ‘expected’ of us … that terrifies me – I don’t the world to get its nasty claws in her … I know – she is only turning 4 but it’s really big for me …

I am finding this year a lot harder than the previous ones, mainly because she is changing SO fast, SO quickly.

But after all is said and done, I look forward to watching her grow and to take on the world with both hands – her devilish wit and sharp sense of humor is something worth watching improve! 🙂

She is my proudest moment everyday!

Another Letter…

I really love this letters that mothers right to their children and I am so glad we have this thing called the interweb where we can save such things for a ‘rainy day’

MESSAGE TO MY TEENAGER ~ (author unknown)

1. Yes, your freshman AND Sophomore years count towards your GPA for college entrance. Screw it up and you’ll work for crap wages your whole life.2. No means NO. In every possible circumstance….

3. Join every sport, every club, every after school activity no matter what the cost. It’s cheaper than bail.4. Repeat after me: I am never in that much of a hurry…I am never in that much of a hurry. Now say that every time you get behind the wheel. It will save your life and that of your best friend in the seat next to you.5. Don’t do drugs or drink – it is so not worth the trouble.

6. Don’t get a credit card. You earn it or you live without it.

7. If I yell at you, it’s because I love you. And also, because you pissed me off. To avoid the latter, don’t be an idiot. And don’t disappoint me. More importantly, yourself.

8. Make a vivid picture inside your head of every great moment of your childhood. You’ll need those to get through adulthood.

9. Make snow angels as often as possible. Make a bucket list. Check it off!

10. Stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves.

11. Be always benevolent. Yes, that’s a word. Look it up.

12. Call me for a ride even if you are so drunk you barely know my number. I’ll probably be mad for a while but I’ll respect you for calling and I won’t kill you. Riding with someone who is drinking will. (PS – remember #5?)

13. Be a leader, not a follower. Unless you are following the kid with the highest GPA and (s)he is going to a study group, then by all means be a follower!

14. Love your siblings, even when you don’t like them. Some day you will be trying to get them to take care of me in my old age. If they are mad at you, you are stuck with me.

15. I’ve been there, done that on more things than you can imagine. I’m not stupid and I know what you are doing. I was once you (times ten).

16. Work hard at everything you do. Anything worth doing is worth doing well.

17. Cover it. (Enough said.)

18. When I tell you to clean your room, do not point at my messy room and raise your eyebrows. I’m trying to raise you to be better than me.

19. Learn to type; to budget; to spell correctly and to pray. All are equally important.

20. Never be sedentary. Someday soon you will no longer be able to move like that. Enjoy it.

Live Your Dash!

*Tissues please*

Doing my daily, ok, hourly browse on Facebook and came across this video which made me smile from ear to ear…

Only to then find another video of a poem called The Dash {below} which made me sob uncontrollably yet at the same time sparked a determination to make sure that I fulfill my dash before it is carved in stone…

The Dash
by Linda Ellis copyright 1996

I read of a man who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone,
from the beginning…to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth
and spoke of the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
that she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own,
the cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
that can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
to consider what’s true and real
and always try to understand
the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger
and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives
like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect
and more often wear a smile,
remembering that this special dash
might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy is being read,
with your life’s actions to rehash…
would you be proud of the things they say
about how you spent YOUR dash?

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xoxo

Dear Less-Than-Perfect Mom

I know – I am making a terribly bad habit of kindly borrowing other posts but once you have read this one you will have thanked me … got me all choked up and stuff …

For all the moms, dads, aunties, uncles, grannies, grandpa’s, godmothers, godfathers and any other person that has mini humans in their lives …

Dear Moms,

I’ve seen you around. I’ve seen you screaming at your kids in public, I’ve seen you ignoring them at the playground, I’ve seen you unshowered and wearing last night’s pajama pants at preschool drop-off. I’ve seen you begging your children, bribing them, threatening them. I’ve seen you shouting back and forth with your husband, with your mom, with the police officer at the cross walk.

I’ve seen you running around with your kids, getting dirty and occasionally swearing audibly when you bang a knee. I’ve seen you sharing a milkshake with a manic four-year old. I’ve seen you wiping your kids’ boogers with your bare palm, and then smear them on the back of your jeans. I’ve seen you carry your toddler flopped over the crook of your arm while chasing a runaway ball.

I’ve also seen you gritting your teeth while your kid screamed at you for making him practice piano, or soccer, or basket weaving, or whatever it was. I’ve seen you close your eyes and breathe slowly after finding a gallon of milk dumped into your trunk. I’ve seen you crying into the sink while you desperately scrub crayon off you best designer purse. I’ve seen you pacing in front of the house.

I’ve seen you at the hospital waiting room. I’ve seen you at the pharmacy counter. I’ve seen you looking tired, and frightened.

I’ve seen a lot of you, actually.

I see you every single day.

I don’t know if you planned to be a parent or not. If you always knew from your earliest years that you wanted to bring children into the world, to tend to them, or if motherhood was thrust upon you unexpectedly. I don’t know if it meets your expectations, or if you spent your first days as a mom terrified that you would never feel what you imagined “motherly love” would feel like for your child. I don’t know if you struggled with infertility, or with pregnancy loss, or with a traumatic birth. I don’t know if you created you child with your body, or created your family by welcoming your child into it.

But I know a lot about you.

I know that you didn’t get everything that you wanted. I know that you got a wealth of things you never knew you wanted until they were there in front of you. I know that you don’t believe that you’re doing your best, that you think you can do better. I know you are doing better than you think.

I know that when you look at your child, your children, you see yourself. And I know that you don’t, that you see a stranger who can’t understand why the small details of childhood that were so important to you are a bother to this small person who resembles you.

I know that you want to throw a lamp at your teenager’s head sometimes. I know you want to toss your three year old out the window once in a while.

I know that some nights, once it’s finally quiet, you curl up in bed and cry. I know that sometimes, you don’t, even though you wanted to.

I know that some days are so hard that all you want is for them to end, and then at bedtime your children hug you and kiss you and tell you how much they love you and want to be like you, and you wish the day could last forever.

But it never does. The day always ends, and the next day brings new challenges. Fevers, heartbreak, art projects, new friends, new pets, new fights. And every day you do what you need to do.

You take care of things, because that’s your job. You go to work, or you fill up the crock pot, or you climb into the garden, or strap the baby to your back and pull out the vacuum cleaner.

You drop everything you’re doing to moderate an argument over who’s turn it is to use a specifically colored marker, or to kiss a boo-boo, or to have a conversation about what kind of lipstick Pinocchio’s mommy wears.

I know that you have tickle fights in blanket forts, and that you have the words to at least eight different picture books memorized. I’ve heard that you dance like a wild woman when it’s just you and them. That you have no shame about farting or belching in their presence, that you make up goofy songs about peas and potatoes and cheese.

I know that an hour past bedtime, you drop what you’re doing and trim the fingernail that your three-year old insists is keeping her up. I know that you stop cleaning dishes because your kids insist you need to join their tea party. I know you fed your kids PB&J for four days straight when you had the flu. I know that you eat leftover crusts over the sink while your kids watch Super Why.

I know you didn’t expect most of this. I know you didn’t anticipate loving somebody so intensely, or loathing your post-baby body so much, or being so tired, or being the mom you’ve turned out to be.

You thought you had it figured out. Or you were blind and terrified. You hired the perfect nanny. Or you quit your job and learned to assemble flat packed baby furniture. You get confused by the conflict of feeling like nothing has changed since you were free and unfettered by children, and looking back on the choices you made as though an impostor was wearing your skin.

You’re not a perfect mom. No matter how you try, no matter what you do. You will never be a perfect mom.

And maybe that haunts you. Or maybe you’ve made peace with it. Or maybe it was never a problem to begin with.

No matter how much you do, there is always more. No matter how little you do, when the day is over your children are still loved. They still smile at you, believing you have magical powers to fix almost anything. No matter what happened at work, or at school, or in play group, you have still done everything in your power to ensure that the next morning will dawn and your children will be as happy, healthy, and wise as could possibly be hoped.

There’s an old Yiddish saying, “There is one perfect child in the world, and every mother has it.”

Unfortunately, there are no perfect parents. Your kids will grow up determined to be different than you. They will grow up certain that they won’t make their kids take piano lessons, or they’ll be more lenient, or more strict, or have more kids, or have fewer, or have none at all.

No matter how far from perfect you are, you are better than you think.

Someday your kids will be running around like crazy people at church and concuss themselves on a hand rail, and somebody will still walk up to you and tell you what a beautiful family you have. You’ll be at the park and your kids will be covered in mud and jam up to the elbows, smearing your car with sugary cement, and a pregnant lady will stop and smile at you wistfully.

No matter how many doubts you might have, you never need doubt this one thing:
You are not perfect.

And that’s good. Because really, neither is your child. And that means nobody can care for them the way you can, with the wealth of your understanding and your experience. Nobody knows what your child’s squall means, or what their jokes mean, or why they are crying, better than you do.

And since no mother is perfect, chances are you are caught in a two billion way tie for Best Mom in the World.

Congratulations, Best Mom in the World. You’re not perfect.

You’re as good as anybody can get.

*written by Lea Grover – writer and toddler-wrangler

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xoxo

A mother’s prayer…

 

I may not be religious but Tina Fey is awesome so I will post it!

First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches. {I will sway on this one … but ONLY when she is 18}

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half and stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes and not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers. Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers and the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it. {Damn straight!}

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.

555387_10150822237386728_1139916088_n *excerpt from Tina Fey’s book Boosypants? It’s called “A Mother’s Prayer for her Daughter”

29 things to do before 30!

yes, yes, yes … I know … I am 3 months late for this post which means I only have 9 months to do this {please excuse me while I fall off my chair with laughter} “3 months late” “9 months” … I made it sound like I am having a baby! 🙂 LOL! Well, that it not the case – my post is obviously about a list of 29 things to do before I am the big three.point.oh!

1) Do something for someone who can never repay me
2) Do something anonymously that will make more than one person smile
3) Push myself past my limit
4) Learn to play at least one song on the guitar
5) Skydive
6) Crack an egg into a bowl without having a piece of shell fall in
7) Wear a shirt that says LIFE while handing out lemons {anyone care to join me on this one?}
8) Compete in a show jumping show
9) Get a new tattoo
10) Get my name on the benchmark board
11) Grow a veggie garde
12) Go on a cooking course
13) Grow a herb garden
14) Wear a bikini at the beach and be TOTALLY ok with it!
15) Run the ‘green mile’ twice
16) Skinny dip in the ocean
17) Sleep outside under the stars
18) See a rhino again before they are all gone… 😦
19) Ride on the Sight Seeing Bus
20) Take the train to Simon’s Town
21) Hug a complete stranger *I did this last year but it was so much fun, so I’m going to do it again*
22) Go away for a weekend *last years camping did NOT count!*
23) Write (pen to paper) a letter and post it to a friend or family member
24) Solve a rubix cube
25) Stop smoking *um…well…ya*
26) Make a shell necklace
27) Play a prank on someone {harmless of course}
28) Learn to do a french plait
29) Learn a whole sentence in sign language {anyone know anyone who knows sign language?}

Ok, so that’s it! I know I have cheated a little by adding a few things from last year but I never completed them so I think it’s fair to have them back? yes? yes! ok!

AND … I vow to do this everyday …
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xoxo

Meh…

Obstacles… Obstacles… Obstacles.

As a child, riding horses, I was always taught to get back on the horse when I fell off.. and I fell off many times and every time I did, I would get back up on the horse, once even with a broken arm and dislocated shoulder. So that quote was never just words for me – it was something physical.

With that being said, WHY am I finding it so hard to get back on now that there is no actual horse involved? Every time I start getting somewhere with my training something happens that hinders me and throws me back 500 steps when I have just managed to complete 300 steps! First it was my teeth in February then it was bronchitis and now a stupid ass sprained pelvis! {if you are sensitive to swearing close your eyes now} FUCK! I know it may sound super petty, it’s not like I was in a terribly accident and lost a limb or something but it’s not petty too me … not when my heart, soul and will are put on the line!

I am struggling to stay positive … I feel so utterly defeated … Even pretty much force feeding myself motivational quotes and trying to make them a mantra doesn’t seem to be working, I make one movement that reminds me that my back hurts and I am back to feeling as though all my hard work has been thrown in the bin and I just don’t know if I have the courage to ‘start again’ – I say that in inverted commas because I know that I won’t REALLY be starting over again – it just feels that way.

Do I just throw in the towel and call it a day? Saving myself from further disappointment or do I fight through it?

It’s actually pretty stupid that I even pose that question because my heart knows the answer … I won’t, can’t, give up but it’s just SO hard. I have come so far … *hangs head and shoulders heave*

When the morning alarm goes off and I just want to creep into the duvet and stay there – I can’t train for another week … *SOB* There are a few people who totally understand how important my training and goals are to me so they will understand the utter sorrow in this post – for those of you that don’t – that’s ok too because I know that somewhere a nerve was tweaked {figuratively of course} because obstacles have a way of getting under everyone’s feet at a pivotal time in our lives …

But we MUST get up and keep on going! It’s not about whether you fall down, it’s whether you get back up! Right? RIGHT?

There is this fire, this voice, this insatiable hunger inside of me that tells me ‘No, you are NOT done and that is the reason I don’t hide… I will have moments of utter defeat during this time {like right now, hence the post} but it’s the moments that I feel I won’t give up that I will try to hang onto for dear life! I will get up … I just want to lay here for a moment – that’s ok too right? Give life a running start for when I do? 🙂

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xoxo