SE7EN

It's begun.

The horror movie of motherhood.

The Se7en year itch.

One minute I'm the best thing that has ever happened to her, the next, she wants to put my severed head in a cardboard box and mail it to my husband.

What the?

How did this little, easy going lady turn into an academy award winning drama queen?

Is it the year? Really? I wanna know. Is it because she's more aware of the world around her than ever before and let's face it. It's scary. Is it the fact that I am still treating her like a baby? (But she IS a baby!) Does she want to be treated like a "big girl" and how exactly do those things get treated anyhow?

I am at a total loss.

Can you tell?

All I know is I am savoring those moments when she says to me, "Mommy, I don't know what I would do without you in my life!"

Because the next minute she's screaming, "YOU WISH I WAS DEAD! I'LL KILL MYSELF SO YOU WON'T HAVE TO DEAL WITH ME ANYMORE!!!!!" (That's when her head starts spinning and she's cursing me and Jesus and all that is holy.) I'm not kidding.

Those loving moments are still many. Yet, those horror movie dramas are also pretty prevalent in our lives right now. I'll take the good with the bad gladly. But some light shed on the subject of horror movies would benefit everyone in the household. No?

We had a wonderful 7th birthday celebration. It was an "everything I ever wanted in my whole life" kinda celebration. I got much praise for the party, the guests, the food choices...I was a rockstar.

Rock on!

Then, New Year's Eve came rolling around and we rang in the new year at exactly 11:46pm with a knock down, WWE, super tap out cage match. I was devastated that we brought in 2011 with such a scene. Of course, I blame myself. I blame my lack of patience, my lack of motherhood know-how, my lack of a mother to help me out with this crap...And I get down on myself.

But one thing I've learned while 7 crept up behind us...It's not all my fault. Sometimes she's just not gonna get her way, or be happy 24/7, or even accept everything I say as law anymore. Isn't that what growing up is all about. Feeling your oats at 7? Feeling your oats while your daughter feels her oats at motherhood?

I accept the things I can not change. I'm courageous enough to change the things I can. And I have some wisdom to know the difference between the two. I've come a LONG way baby!

I just hope the 7 year old doen't plan on decapitating my in my sleep.

God grant me the serenity 

to accept the things I cannot change; 

courage to change the things I can;

and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time; 

Enjoying one moment at a time; 

Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;...

--Reinhold Niebuhr

Summa Time Revelation

It's summer.

It's the BEST summer ever.

I got through a year of teaching after 6 years off. I made it. I did it.

Never thought I would.

Just ask the Provider. He'd have bet I would have given up after 3 days. I didn't.

It's been a long time since I've last blogged. Forgive me Blogger, for I have sinned.
But I've been a bit busy. My apologies. I miss you though, dear blogger. I miss you terribly. I have so much to tell you but I just don't know where to begin. Work was TOUGH. The Litigator ROCKED kindergarten. She already can't wait for 1st grade. I can. My baby is growing up before my eyes. I have no control.

That's the one thing I've learned this year. I have no control. I let go. (A little)... I'm trying, I swear.

Having to be at work every day has given me the opportunity to let The Litigator be. She has HAD to become more and more independent and she has been a trooper. She loves school, loves her friends, loves the play-dates she goes on...in SOMEONE ELSE'S CAR. Loves that she can go to the afterschool program or be picked up by a friend or family member...or babysitter. And I have to let it happen.

It hurts. To let that happen. It hurts in my chest like fire. It makes me want to rip my skin off and give by aching chest some relief. But I let it happen. I have to.

And I've discovered that she CAN be her own person and still come home to me (and NEED me). She loves to see me at the end of the day. We can bond in a different way now. We can talk about her day and I can talk about mine. Every time I pick her up from afterschool, do you know what she asks? She asks, "Mom, how were your 5th graders today?"...She asked me that every single day after school. How much did she want me to have a good day? Oh, she wanted so much for me to have a good day like she had. She has such a heart. She cares like nothing I've ever seen before. If I could only be like her.

My daughter is closer to 7 than 6 now. She's a big girl. She's loving and smart and caring and gives the world's greatest hugs. I am so happy that she is thriving. I am so lucky that I have her in my life. I can't believe how we get along and how we are a true team. I am her mother and I have to be strong for her. It makes her strong. It gives her confidence that everything is gonna be alright. I have to give her that, even if I don't believe it.

Would I rather be home waiting for her, just in case...? YES. Can I be? No. Do I have to make the best of a crappy, unwanted situation? Yes. Am I? I'm trying.

So yes, this is the best summer ever. This is the summer of my motherly awakening. The summer that I can truly appreciate being a mother and a person with a - dare I say, LIFE? This is the summer that I see my daughter becoming a real person. A smart person, a giving person, a loving person. AN INDEPENDENT person.

And I am so proud of her. I am so proud of me. I am so very, very proud of US.

The grass is always greener...

My daughter wishes so badly she was older. She is torn between still wanting things done for her yet wanting to be independent of me...I don't blame her.

I on the other hand, wish I was a kid again. I wish I was carefree, bill-free, worry-free, free to be. Watching her struggle with her independence only makes me feel sorry for her. She doesn't know yet what it's like to not be able to pay a bill, to worry about sickness and death. To wonder what steps you could have taken to make it turn out differently. And I can't tell her. She must learn all this for herself. THAT is hard for me to deal with.

She thinks I don't understand. Oh! But I do. I understand it well. I have been 5 years old. She has never been 37.

I have been to the place on my mother's lap where safety isn't just a thought, it's a constant. I know what it's like to be in kindergarten for the first time wondering what my mother was doing while I was away. I know of scraped knees and bruised egos.

She thinks I don't get it.

She wants to be a drumming veterinarian when she grows up. She will have a parrot in her waiting area and I will be answering the phones and calling the pets in at their turn. On the weekends, she will practice the drums for the pets she takes home to care for...I want those things for her too...

But, I know life's twists and turns may lead her in many directions before she settles on one thing focus. I watch her make decisions, I see her challenge herself many times a day. I know she is on her way to all that her dreams may lead her.

I wish I was there again. Not just with her, guiding her. But for myself. I wish the doors were opened in all directions letting the possibilities in from all sides. I wish I had some of it to do over again. I wish I had my mothers lap to sit on just one more time.

But I do have my daughter. I have her waiting to play 'Candy Land' with me. I have her watching as I sew the holes in her stuffed "patients". I have her comfortably on my lap, talking to me like she knows she can. Sharing the ups and downs of five. Wishing for a moment we were in each other's shoes, then stepping back and enjoying the right now. Because we'll never have this moment again.

"I wrote this song/blog for you"

I started blogging to keep track of the things that go on with my toddler. I started blogging for that toddler to have something to look back on one day, maybe when I'm not here... I started blogging to maintain some sanity. I met so many cool people while blogging... I started blogging for many reasons, mostly to keep my life with my child relevant...long after I'm gone. I've always wanted Fa to know how loved she is.

Then Fa got bigger. She's no longer that toddler that takes two naps a day. She no longer sits in one spot and plays for hours on end. She needs constant movement, action. She's busy. She has a social calendar busier than I ever had. She's learning to play the drums. She's going to school almost full time. She starts Kindergarten in September. Then, there has been soccer, gymnastics, swimming... all with one child.

I've lost myself again.

And I've lost track of all the goings on around here and this blog has a gap in time. And I regret not journaling the time Fa started swimming on her own without the floaties...I regret not writing about how great she's improving due to her OT sessions. I hate that I haven't posted about all the birthday parties that she's gone to...without fear, able to process the sensation without crying for hours. I hate that.

But I'm emerging again. Smarter, more experienced. Less fearful? (I don't know. I have a lot of baggage in that department.)

I am still grieving after 20 years over the loss of my mother.

I am now grieving over a loss I wasn't even ready for.

I am trying to gather up my senses and make this life worth living. I am trying to show my daughter that this life is worth living.

It is hard.

The whole fucking thing is hard.

But in the end, I just want this blog to be there for my daughter.

She sees me going through crap that I can't explain. She knows I'm off center. She knows Mommy's sad, sick, or crying again...But I don't want her to ever think it's her fault.

So, here I am again at the keyboard. Hoping that not now, but one day she will look at this and maybe even remember "that February when it was Mommy's birthday but she couldn't stop crying...THAT'S what that was about...now I get it."

I am even going over and fixing up some posts from my old blog in order to attach it here so it is all in one place for her one day. Look for the link in my sidebar soon ------->.

This is a journal of my heart for my daughter...

She may not get it now. But one day she will.

Halloween Hangover

So I'm still hungover from all the candy. Or am I crashing? I'm not sure.

All I do know is Soccer is over for the season, I'm on a sugar high, I found out this week that my father has prostate cancer and I have potentially reconnected with a friend after a 7 year hiatus. Wish me luck on that one.

I have a lot going on and not enough stamina to type it all out there.

But I am meeting up with said friend tomorrow. After 7 years. After a huge fight that ended bitterly. After kids. After marriages. After just being grownups.

I hope things work out for the best.

I'll keep you posted.

As for Dad. Yeah, I am not processing that one yet. I'll hafta get back to you on that one. Would I be selfish if I asked you to send good vibes all around?

I pledge...

Ok. So now that I got that off my chest... I want to thank you all for your amazing comments.

And in a very special comment from a very special blog friend about my last post. I was challenged to make a pledge.

So, today I pledge to Annie to remain positive even when I feel very negative.

And my very first positive thought to this pledge is this:

The very best thing about blogging is all the wonderful connections I've made while airing out my "Dirty Laundry". I am grateful to all of my special blogging friends. And I am thankful to be a part of their lives.

(Quite appropriate don't you think, for a first blog pledge?)

Thank you Annie for your kind words and your idea to stay positive. I needed that.

It's Way Too Soon

I can't even TRY to change the subject.

She won't let me get away with this much longer.

Avoidance and plain talk doesn't fly with this kid.

She wants answers. Answers to questions that her little mind can't possiby compute.

Answers that will for sure cause a raucus in her innocent little mind and not translate very well to her preschool friends.

How do I explain how she was made?

How does "We wanted a baby and mommy and daddy made you" become not good enough for an almost 5 year old?

How do I explain that she's not adopted (where the hell does she learn this?) and that she is ours, made from us?

How do I explain why she was in my belly and how she got there and how she got out?

'Cause lemme tell ya, she ain't havin' the short version for much longer people.

It is way too soon for this, dear me.

My Girl

When Fa was born. I knew something was up with her. Her colicky issues weren't your run of the mill issues. She cried hard. She grew older and more sensitive to noise and crowds and over stimulation. And her social development was a concern of mine. I tried to have her evaluated by EI and they came to my house and told me that there was no evidence of a developmental delay and I should wait until she reaches preschool to try again.

When Fa started pre-school, I had many concerns.

Separating (from her) would be a huge problem (for me). Loud noises like the vacuum and fire drill would totally give the teachers a run for their money. Fa's love for talking. Her shyness...yeah right. I prepared them all for it. She adapted quite well. I did too.

In January, Fa's preschool teacher suggested I stay aware of her Fine Motor Skills because she was showing a little delay in her pencil grip and scissors grip. Since she wrote her letters and words so well, she didn't want Fa getting stuck in the wrong grip. And she also suggested while I'm at it, keep an eye on her Gross Motor Skills because she trips over her own two feet (a whole friggin' lot). I chalked it up to many different facts. She's a lefty, I'm a righty. She doesn't allow me to teach her the correct way to grip. Her body's too big for her brain, she's just as clumsy as her dad...etc.

Then in May, the teacher brought it up again.

This time I couldn't ignore it.

I love this teacher. She loves Fa. She knows Fa really well and she knows how to work with Fa. I trust her. Her biggest concern was when Fa hits kindergarten and the teachers don't coddle as preschool teachers do, it might turn Fa off of school early on and cause difficulties. Kindergarten teachers have no time to perfect a kid's pencil grip it seems. When did kindergarten get so serious?

So I made the initial phone call to the proper channels in order to start evaluating my precious daughter's skills. It all happened very fast after that.

Two full days of Physical Therapy Evaluations, Occupational Therapy Evaluations, Psychological Evaluations and Social/Emotional Evaluations. I was tired. Fa was handling it all like a pro.

The OT therapist said on the spot that she shows a significant delay in her fine motor skills and thought as of that day that she would qualify for OT services. I was not shocked. I knew this was the way it would be.

She did not automatically suggest therapy...she knew all the paperwork would have to go through the loop of the School System and our district.

The Physical Therapist took fast notice of Fa's turned in feet. She's not this bad, but it is prominent and does inhibit her movement. He admitted that she scored too high in the Gross Motor portion of the test but should be seen for her weak ankles and feet.

Then, I forgot about it. I don't know how I did, I just assumed Fa was not going to receive services.

Last Wednesday, I went to the Evaluation Meeting at the elementary school that she will be attending in a year. She qualifies for OT. Just like that. No questions, no fighting for our IDEA rights as tax paying citizens, no begging for some help in catching her up to kids her own age.

Done.

She starts in September and will be getting her therapy in a Sensory Gym for her fine motor skills and Sensory Integration. Plus they will come to her preschool when needed.

Since she was an infant I knew she had problems with her sensory intake and she would get overloaded too quickly. Her coping skills left her crying for hours. Me too.

Just as easy as that. My daughter has OT/Sensory issues that according to the special education department in our district qualifies her for services twice a week until she tests out.

My daughter just like that, has a IEP and a therapist.

I am not in the least bit upset, concerned or worried. Don't get me wrong. I am happy that her teacher had the foresight to see her problems and suggest a plan of action. And I'm proud that I did what I had to do to get her the help she needs. Really, I can't help but be surprised it all happened so fast and so easily.

Free therapy can be hard to come by.

Which means... She really has a developmental delay. The girl who has an above average IQ according to the tests, the girl who has a keenly developed vocabulary. My artist. My girl.

My. Girl.

Even for my girl, I would not have made a move if it weren't for her teacher. I knew there was a problem. But I just truly thought she'd "grow out" of it. She's so big for her age, I just thought that her 4.5 year old brain was working overtime with a 6+ year old body.

Goes to show you what I know. Goes to show you how I should have followed my gut over a year ago.

I'm so happy I took that teacher's advice and didn't let my pride in "knowing my child" get in the way. But you know what? I think about it as I'm writing this and I see that I made the move because I "knew my child" had a problem. All I needed was that extra push in the right direction.

Tomorrow, I wall call around for a few gyms in the neighborhood to see if we can fit two therapy days a week into Fa's already busy fall schedule.

I did it. As her mother and her advocate, I did it. For my girl. I did it.

Don't question yourselves friends. Always follow your gut. It's never wrong. Thank God I did.

How did I not know about this?

Why on earth did this one slip through my crack, uhm fingers?


I found it last night. But The Pro was already in the throes of the Yankee Game and we were already in bed and there was NO changing the channel, the room (I'm lazy) or his mind.

I'm ashamed of myself.

NOW I have to watch the full episodes online. Which isn't all that bad. But really who has time for this...DvR here I come.

Get a load of the acts.

I did force The Pro to watch Antonio do his hand balancing act. Holy crap. Those pecks.


I did not see Christopher Knight light himself on fire yet. Oh Don't worry, I'm okay. I'll see it online.

How dare you?

Still looks like Peter to me.

And it seems the rest of the cast is already leaving quickly. I don't even know when this started? How long it will last? How did this happen? I missed a goofy reality show and no one told me.

Remember this show?

With these celebrities doing death defying stunts like horseback riding and high wire acts?


Isn't that the chick from Eight is Enough?

I am pheclempt. I am in need of my circus fix. Don't call me, I'll be in the basement catching up.

Consider this my PSA

So, when your child has a fever and diarrhea for less than 24 hours...don't take her to a birthday party the very next day. Or School, or swimming.

Because most probably a week or so later...

She'll have the chicken pox.

And they look similar to this:
I know. Hardly anything right?

Looks like bug bites. Yup.

But really quickly they get redder and bigger and itchier and more of them start to show up...even if your child already had the vaccine to ward off the pesky virus.

Well, she'll be most contagious the week BEFORE the rash shows up and that is when she can spread the airborne virus. Like from sharing toys in school, or the pool, or the playground even if she is next to a sweaty contagious person. (Kind of where I think she got it.)

And you may not even think twice about the rash because you have already forgotten about the fever a week before and they look so much like bug bites until your father tells you, "there are too many of them to be bug bites, you should get it checked out." And even then, you may wait a while...I mean, really...she's been a little off lately and the dark circles under her eyes have maybe gotten seriously darker but nothing to run to the doctor for. Right? You'll get her blood checked at her yearly well visit.

Well, once those bumps scab over, unlike a bug bite, you may start to finally question your initial ignorance and step to the doctors in a hurry.

Like I did.

You're welcome.

I was thinking.

When I start thinking it could go either way, terribly bad or good.

But I was driving Fa to school this morning and the day was starting out to be a wonderfully sunny day.

It reminded me of a time.

It must've been about the same time of year, because I had just started walking again, for exercise, after Fa was born. She was about 4+ months old. She was just coming out, I mean just coming out of her colicky stage. Add that to what I was going through and you had one fucked up JJ.

I took her to the beach to walk on the boardwalk. I had my jogging stroller all ready to go, the tires were filled with air, my sneakers were ready to move, my muscles needed toning...I was looking forward to exercising and getting the baby out of the house...(That was still a big feat back then. I was afraid to leave the house and all.)

I strapped her into the car, drove the 5 minutes to the beach (lucky) and started adjusting her into the stroller. My courage was strong, for some reason that morning...

We took off.

Not three steps onto the boardwalk and she started crying. I kept it going a few more steps. She started crying harder and louder. But I was determined to walk. And she was determined to cry.

I was so nervous that I sat on a bench to try to calm her. Water, formula, sunscreen, clean diaper, hat, shade...all in order. But she was inconsolable. You'd think I'd be used to it by then, but it hurt that minute just like every minute prior. Like someone was stabbing me in the heart over an over again with each wail of her tiny but booming voice.

Like all the other times before, I didn't know what to do. So I sat and cried. On the bench at the beach. Bawling.

And my anger for her welled up inside me like a volcano and I started yelling at her on the boardwalk. For crying.

My four month old.

I was screaming at her.

For crying.

I feel so guilty for that. For blaming her for my short comings and fears and insecurities. And for actually taking it out on her. Like a mad woman. People were staring and the more they gawked, the louder I yelled, the louder she cried.

I must've been a sight.

I resented her for being a burden when I wanted to walk. I resented her for making me feel so out of control physically and mentally. I was angry at her for taking this time to throw a fit. Like she was doing it on purpose. I was fucking crazy, man.

I think back at that now and I cringe. The guilt is overwhelming.

But I was trying. I really was.

And I used to ask her, "Are you crying because I'm crying or am I crying because you're crying?"

Who knew.

But I pray that my initial actions as a mother will have no bearing on her as she grows. Do they know? Do they remember? Will it effect her in the long run?

We went home shortly after that scene and I waited a little longer to try again. Watching the fear grow with each new failed experience.

But eventually we did it. We got into a groove. And it became a ritual of sorts. Every summer we'd go back, every other day, walking on the boardwalk...counting big, orange garbage cans. She loved those garbage cans. They were evenly spaced throughout the boardwalk and for 3 years she saw them return every summer.

I wish I could have known then what I know now.

I wish that she knew then what I pray she knows now.

That I loved her unconditionally, even if I didn't know it back then. And I love her unconditionally now. And I do my best to show it in every way possible.

I hope my guilt doesn't spill over. I truly do.

In control

I have been examining this life lately.

I believe I have finally come to the realization that I must enjoy it now. For I won't have another chance.

I have been given a clinical name for what I have been suffering for all of these years.

Depression.

And when Fa was born, Post Partum Psychosis.

I hate labels.

But for some reason. These labels in particular have helped me to let go of all the pain and insecurities I have held deep for so long. There are reasons for why I felt the way I did. I am not the only one who has felt this way. Experienced this. I am awakened to this new found security.

A funny kind of security. It's more of an "ah-ha!" then an "I can do this" thing.

When Fa was born, I was severely misdiagnosed and I wasn't given the correct line of treatment, which may have saved me from years of insecurity and fear vs. what I've gone through. I thought I was losing my mind. And no one even made a blip about my symptoms. I am surprised I got through it as well as I did. Goes to show what your heart can take for your child.

Today, it has a name and symptoms that I actually had, and a cure. A cure that I am finally receiving after 4+ years.

I am relieved. I am justified. I am secure.

I am so happy with being a mother these days that I almost feel jipped. I should have felt this way much earlier. I've lost precious moments due to the visions, fears, insecurities and thoughts.

I can't get those moments back. But I sure as shit can enjoy the ones I am having now.

I am proud of myself for finally, finally taking steps to figure this out. I knew it. I knew it was something more than depression after Fa was born.

Looking back and examining my life so far, I also realize that after the trauma of losing my mother at such a young age, I have done pretty good for myself...even if it took longer than I'd have liked. I survived a loss that led me through a downward spiral of depression and suicidal ideations and I was strong enough (without therapy, back then) to get through it.

I'm one tough bitch.

And finally. Finally. Thanks to Fa and the Pro, (and some damn good psychiatrists and therapists) I have finally begun to step into the light...To enjoy my life and thrive on the events that make it mine and only mine. This is my one and only life.

I am finally strong enough to live it to the fullest.

I am breathing again, for the first time in years. I've taken control and I love every second of it.

In my quest to find a new friend...

I've been taking the girl on a few play dates lately.

She has some friends in her class that actually make their moms call me to arrange play time together...(How cool?)

I've been having an okay time with it. I'm not the social butterfly you all think I am...I have a hard time being comfortable at first. But the few moms I have met so far have all been pretty nice.

We've chatted, shared stuff, the kids have played nicely together...Dare I say, it's been quite pleasant?

I hate having to make sure my house is neat though. It's very difficult to hide the piles of laundry. Especially when the play room is right next door to the laundry room...You know?

And I have a huge headache after the playdate is over. I need serious Excedrin after most of them. Why is that? Why am I so anxious about all this?

Anyway, yesterday we had another playdate with a boy in her class...I'll call him Bo. We went to their mansion house. Can I tell you, I almost wanted to puke at the grandness of this place the house was gorgeous! Huge rooms, huge furniture, huge ass kitchen...I begged asked her nicely to show me around. Then I realized who these people were. Quite well endowed Famous ass Fairly comfortable and famous business if I do say so myself.

The point here is...I enjoyed myself. Fa had a blast. And this mom isn't snooty at all what I thought she'd be like after I saw where she lived...She's pretty cool. I think I like her. And Fa loves Bo dearly. They played so nice together...

I am happy.

I'm proud of us, Fa and me. We are branching out. And enjoying it. We are taking steps together to make new friends...It's nice.

And honestly, I still can't believe I'm doing this...

BFF's?

It's been over a month that I heard anything from K.

I knew this was going to happen. She's never been the best at calling back. But we lived close, so I never thought anything of it. Now that I can't just up and visit whenever she calls...I feel the chasm deepening.

I feel the space that was already in our relationship widening.

She's always had me to lean on. I am always there when she calls. I always call her right back if I'm not.

Whenever I need to talk. I have to leave her a message. And wait. Until she returns my call...and usually by then, my problem is dealt with in some way and I don't need to talk about it with her anymore.

So the conversation usually leans in her favor.

I've thought long and hard about our friendship and I have come to some conclusions that I am not happy about.

I am a constant. She is floating.

I need a constant in my life. I have none of the female persuasion.

Yes, my family is a constant.

But real girlie BFF's? None.

All flighty and paper thin. Like a paper airplane let go in a windstorm.

Seems like a pattern.

I've spent years in therapy evaluating my patterns with boys and family...but never with girls as friends.

I never had many really close girlfriends. But I was always so proud of the 2-3 girls I had sister-like closeness with since childhood. I've lost every one of those in one way or another.

Now, I have begun to focus on that patterns with girls.

I have faced reality that my relationship has forever changed with K. It will never be the same. Not because she's in Texas. But because I realize she has never truly been there for me. Her leaving has finally made me see the spaces that have formed between us throughout the years. Geographical distance was never a problem. Emotional distance was.

Texas, NYC, Mars. She will always be the same. Floating. While I will be her constant. I'd never not be there for her, but I need to find a constant in my life that I can truly depend on...and she will never be it. She never has been. Our friendship depended on my being there. Not the other way 'round. Not collective, not mutual. All on me.

And I am saddened for many reasons.

I feel used. I feel lied to. I feel like our friendship is a one way sham and I was blind enough not to notice. Or needy enough not to care.

I'm tired of being so needy.

I wonder why my female relationships all end poorly. My therapist says it's because I don't want to get close for fear of abandonment. But once again, the only other 'maternal' relationship I have invested so much of my heart in has left me. Alone.

Why can't I keep a girlfriend?

Why do I have to keep enduring the loss?

Just another reason to keep my eyes wide open...

Opening my eyes

What's wrong with me these days?

Nothing.

I feel good.

I took a break. I got back into some good cognitive therapy.

I figured out some stuff...A LOT of stuff...

I thought, I played, I read.

I'm rejuved, man.

I am enjoying motherhood once again, guilt free. (for now)

I've had some time to bond with my family. My daughter is the most amazing little girl I have ever met. She is officially a BIG girl. A 50lb - 4 year old!

She is smart and happy and being a generally good kid. She loves school and is doing a most amazing job. I am so proud of her. She's into Hi-5 now...I kinda like 'em too...(You should check 'em out.) Great tunes! We dance around the living room singing at the top of our lungs together...My favorite time of day. Except I can't pick her up anymore...

I feel calm and cozy in my life right now and my head is clear. I know what I want and I know what makes me happy. You know what makes me happy? Making my OWN decisions...without worrying about what other people think. How simple, right? If only it was that easy...but I'm working on it.

I am staying away from outside influences and making decisions that suit ME best. No one else.
I only have this one life and I intend to make the best of it.

You know what else makes me happy? FINALLY figuring out that this is my life and I really enjoy it. I am the only one that can make me happy and no one else. Truth be told, I don't know anyone that wants to MAKE me happy...they just want to SEE me happy. Big difference.

I am done depending on others to make me feel good. I need to make myself feel good. It's hard and sometimes I fail, but I know what has to be done...My eyes have been opened to a lot this time around and I am more accepting than ever before.

My expectations of others has diminished. There's a line in the song "Hey Jealousy" from the Gin Blossoms: "If you don't expect too much from me, you may not be let down." I have always loved that quote, but now I get it. Finally. I am done expecting others to meet up to my expectations. I always get let down.

I have standards for my family that yes, I will always expect. But that's it. And those standards are set to only make my family members strive. Not to make me happy. If my daughter and husband succeed, that's great, that will make me happy. But it's not the ONLY thing about them that will bring me joy.

It's good to be back.

Oh, and It's April fool's day...anything fun going on?