My Legacy


1919390_164243127563_7140417_nI will push past your expectations.
I will overcome every one of your carefully placed obstacles.
I will never give in.
It’s not about not letting you win.
It’s not about proving anything to you or feeding my Feminist ego.
It’s about me.  It’s about being who I want to be.

It’s about my Legacy.

It’s about teaching my daughters to never be held down.
To never become too dependent or too independent.
It’s about knowing when to throw away the towel and when to mop up the mess and just toss it in the wash.
It’s about love.
About loyalty.
About lessons.
About life.
It’s about showing the boys that girls aren’t weak and in need of guidance, but are leaders and fire-starters in their own right!

It’s my Legacy.

Strength

“The most high exalting and I ain’t halting
Till I die of exhaustion inhale my exhaust fumes
The best part about me is I am not you
I’m me and I’m the Fire Marshall and this is my

Legacy, legacy, eh”

-Eminem, Legacy

Our birthday


yousuckToday is our birthday.  We’ve shared 31 birthdays now.  Thirty-one.

This day has always sucked.  I’ve never been a good birthday girl.  In fact, as a child, I recall being in trouble most of my birthdays. It was better to have been in trouble and angry than to have been sad. Why? Because no matter how hard anyone tried, no matter what amazing gifts I got, no matter how many hugs my Grandma gave me or laughs my mom tried to make me laugh, the ONE thing I wanted, every, single year, I never got.

A phone call.  One, fucking phone call.

For as far as  I can remember, that was all I wanted.  I got damn near every material thing I asked for.  And I have not one, but two amazing parents who love me more than words, one who truly didn’t have to. Not to mention that my Grandparents are most definitely the very coolest grandparents… ever…  That should be enough, right?

But it’s not. I’m a selfish, vile human being. I still, at fucking thirty-one, JUST want that phone call.

How pathetic is that? I have an amazing family.  Six absolutely gorgeous, unique, hilarious and perfect little human beings to whom I am the center of their universe. I mean, truly… who needs more than that??

Fuck.  Apparently, that would be me…

Because, still, today… I just wanted that freaking phone call.

It’s crazy immature.  It’s ridiculously dramatic and quite hypocritical.  I know a phone works two ways.   But it sucks.  To be the “bigger person” when I am ALWAYS the “bigger person” and when I’m literally, not supposed to be the bigger person in our relationship.  To cry because you don’t call, but not call you because I’m crying.  It sucks.  You SUCK.

But I still… just want a phone call for our birthday.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

I Will Not Be Quiet


I will not sit down.  I will stand up when my heart and brain so see it fit…and sometimes when just one or the other do.  I’m just being honest.

You can consider this your fair warning.  I am not politically correct. I will not be shamed into silence for the sake of safeguarding your naive peace.  I will say the things I believe because your peace needs to be shaken .  Your peace needs to be challenged.  And you know what, you need to invite that challenge! You need to encourage that challenge!   I, gladly BEG of you to challenge mine!

Without challenge, we sit still.  Our creative, spontaneous muscles shrink and slowly become replaced with boring, monotone repetition.   Sure, repetition may create more muscles, but instead of the beautiful rainbow that creativity, deep-thought and emotion bring, the muscles are instead, a boring shade of grey.

I miss my rainbows. I’m bringing them back.

You’ve been warned…

 

photo: https://www.flickr.com/photos/pinksherbet/212673112/in/photostream/lightbox/

I’m Selfish


So, today I was thinking; writing has always been therapeutic.  So why don’t I write?

I used to use it like a cigarette.  Every small status update, every quick tweet or (dating myself here…) post of “SIGH!” in my MSN group, A Place For Teen Parents.  But especially my blogs!  I remember the smile of accomplishment when I expressed exactly how I was feeling in the shortest possible way.  More often than not, it was padded in choice words or explicit song lyrics.  But it released those smile endorphins… and made me feel better… even if only for seconds. 

So, why don’t I write?

I mean, I do write. I look at FB in the car… on the toilet (don’t act like that’s now where you are RIGHT NOW) and occasionally I sneak some FB/blog reading time in before bed (while Mark watches Star Trek and reminds me just how very true it is you marry your father!) .  But mobile is just that… mobile… and not conducive to actual writing

So why don’t I write?

Honestly? Truthfully? Guilt.  

I feel guilty sitting down, on the computer and doing anything that directly benefits ONLY me.  Seems these days if I’m not multi-tasking, I’m not “doing”.  

And that sucks.  And I don’t do things that suck.  

So I’m going to write. I’m going to take five minutes and not think about education, bills, Girl Scouts, the Co-op, Bills or laundry.  I’m sitting, on this laptop WITHOUT (gasp!) a child in my hand or even at my feet!  (THANK YOU MAGNETIC STICK AND STACK and Brooklyn and Tj for the new swing!!!!!!!!!!) and I am writing.

And now my time’s up.  LOL.

But…

HI :)  

Aurora; Goddess of Dawn and Sunrise


Aurora; Goddess of Dawn and Sunrise

She’s almost here! I know I’ve been MIA for this pregnancy, but now that it’s almost over, expect the radio silence to be broken very soon as things smooth back into normal mode!

Aurora is due in just 7 days and we couldn’t be more excited to meet her! This is our 20 week ultrasound. We had the pleasure of seeing her beautiful (but rather smooshed) face again on Tuesday evening during a fluid check ultrasound. She’s running out of room, so you know what that means! She’ll be in our arms very soon!

Stay tuned…

Caution: Chaos Field


Image

I knew this month was going to be rough. 

Football/cheer practice is starting,  along with their 5 day a week practice schedule.  Our new Girl Scout troop is in planning stage with orientation and our first parent meeting happening this month.  I’m finalizing curriculum and completely creating one for Lyrik in preparation for the 13-14 school year.  Then, there’s the  financial stress of all of the above AND the new car we just broke down and purchased.  (We’re just too far out of the city to rely on public transportation and our metatarsals.)

I was well aware of the fact that I would be six months pregnant with a toddler, preschooler, elementary schooler and two middle schoolers (and a musician) when all of these things began.  I have been aware for months, which is why I decided to start early!  Plan.  Be ready. 

It didn’t make a bit of a difference!

I am more organized, more researched and more prepared than I have been in years. But this week has still been pressure packed with chaos.    It still is oozing random craziness.  And I still ended up an emotional, hormonal ball of tears this afternoon. 

And it’s only Wednesday.

But you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way!  Tonight I re-confirmed what I started to doubt many years ago. 

I got this. 

My crazy might not be your shade of crazy, but it sure comes from the same DNA. 

Life is crazy.  Life is chaos.

You can plan life.   You can research and prepare your every move.  You can organize and keep records and in today’s world; have all the information you’ll ever need to know (or as Johnathan said, “google”) at your fingertips. 

But it’s not going to make a bit of difference. 

Life does its own thing.  It’s going to go its own way.  Planning, organizing, researching and preparing only cushions the turns.  It doesn’t truly help you predict  or avoid them.  And honestly, who would want to?  What fun is a straight line? 

Point is, I’m tired.  I’ve exhausted myself and am in no better place for wear.  I haven’t enjoyed a damn thing about this past month.  I’ve skipped out on Lego sessions.  I’ve lost sleep over dollar signs.  I’ve been go go go go go because I was afraid to fail.  And part of me thought I already had.

But, as I type,  my boys have gathered to watch, “Through the Wormhole”.  Their chores done.  Their bodies sore.  But smiles.  From ear to ear.   All four of them.  Aleya is cheering to herself in the entry way (it has great acoustics) and Zana is drifting off into dreamland with a smile on her chubby little face. 

This is worth the chaos and as far away from failure that I can ever imagine. 

What is life without abnormalities, anyway? 

Boooooring! I’ll pass! <3