Because You Are Important

Editing this to say that it's not that I'm being beat up emotionally right now, it's more that I have seen some meanness around, and it hurts my heart to see it happen to anyone. So, this is for any of you who feel like you're being attacked right now. I want to try to balance out some of the meanness out there by telling you that you are important. I didn't mean this to be a waaaaaah poor-me post, so please don't take it like that.




I didn't used to get this blogging thing.


Why the heck does someone blog?


I mean, isn't it weird to talk about your life to people you don't know?


But, then, I got it.


Blog friends are real.


They listen. They laugh with you and cry with you.


They rally in support of a fellow blogger's difficult time, like with Mission Monkey.


If you are very lucky, you have friends like this in real life, too. I have Angie at In My Own Little Corner, whom I've known since we were four. She gets me and lets me be me without judging.


But, really, she's been the only one in real life to do so. Including my family. Who is here right now visiting.


But, in blog land? I can't even begin to list the friends I have made here. Who listen and care and forgive me for having a bad day or a busy week. I suck as a blog visitor this week. New around here? That's not like me.


I could make a long list of those of you whom I feel so close to. And some new friends that I already feel such a connection to. But, I worry that it would take me all day to list all of you and that I might accidentally leave someone off the list.  And I would feel bad about that forever.


But, you know who you are. And yes, I'm talking to you.


I know I'm being really emotional and probably slightly crazy right now. Hubs would probably tell me that I'm being gay, because he's all politically correct like that.


Maybe it's PMS. I think I have PMS 3 weeks out of every month.


Or maybe it's just that I've seen some ugliness recently- in the blog world and irl, where people are tearing each other down. And blowing people off, saying they aren't important.


But, you are important.


We will return you to your regularly-scheduled sarcastic and light-hearted Shell tomorrow. This has been a test of the emergency emotional breakdown system.

Pour Your Heart Out: The First Edition!

I tend to write a post about once a week where I really pour my heart out to you.   I've written about marriage, religion, anger, the struggles I've had with my middle son, body image, and sex, just to name a few.  And I love having a place where I can get this all out.  So, I thought I'd see if anyone else wanted to "Pour Your Heart Out" with me. Here are the Rules: Write a post from the heart. Something that has been weighing on you. Something you feel passionately about.Something you've been wanting to talk about.A cause, a memory, a belief, a world view. Anything. I don't want to assign you a topic because I really want this to be from your heart.  Though, if you are stumped, read some of the posts that are linked, and get ideas from there! Grab my new button for your post and link up!  <a href="http://thingsicantsay-shell.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" alt="" src="http://i904.photobucket.com/albums/ac246/shellthings/pouryourheartout.jpg" /></a>

I hate that I even have to say this, but, whether you are participating or just reading, please keep in mind that the people linking really are sharing something from the heart. So, please, BE RESPECTFUL. We might not agree with each other, but we can all accept someone's right to have a different opinion than we do and NOT attack someone because of this. Play nice. :)

*****

A few weeks ago, after Hubs was in a scary car accident, where he walked away without a scratch, yet our SUV was totalled, part of my post that day included this little blurb:

If you would have asked us both around the 2 year mark how long we thought we'd make it, the answer probably would have been: probably not until 3 years, unless the divorce papers haven't quite gone through yet.


And then the comments and emails came flooding in.


With so many of you telling me that you went through something like that in your marriages, too.


Yet, we often don't talk about this. I mean, you don't want to walk up to the girls at the playground, plop yourself down on the bench beside them as your kids run around, and say "Hi, I'm Shell. Did you know that my husband and I almost got divorced?"


Or, even people that you know a lot better than that. I still don't want to admit it.


I worry about them looking at the two of us, judging. Looking for cracks. Betting on if we really will make it. Gossiping. Speculating about the cause of our troubles.


But, it wasn't anything scandalous. From the email conversations I had with quite a few of you, it's really common.


Adjusting to married life can be difficult. Even being head over heels in love, it's still an adjustment.


And, when you first add kids to that, it's even harder.


For Hubs and I, we went from being a spontaneous couple who had a lot of fun to Hubs freaking out over supporting us, a baby who refused to sleep for longer than 2 hours in a row for the first 6 months of his life, and me feeling lost because I no longer had friends around, and I wasn't working any mre. And then later, we had  a huge move and job stress, and adding another baby to our family.


We took a lot of our frustration out on each other. (Not physically, no abuse- that's a whole different issue)


Our life together had dramatically changed. And it wasn't "easy" any more.


Isn't love supposed to be easy? Isn't that what we say to each other when we act like our marriages are perfect?


Thank God(and I do mean that literally) that Somewhere along the line, we grew the hell up and realized what it takes to make a marriage work.


It does take work.


What in your life doesn't?


Want to lose weight? You have to watch what you eat and exercise.


Want to a friendship strong? Be willing to talk/email, get together, listen, be there.


So, with marriage, there's work, too. Maybe you don't think of it as "work," maybe you cringe at that term,  so how about "dedication" instead?


Making each other a priority. Listening to each other. Respecting each other. Yes, even having a physical relationship. That's the reason behind the Lovin' Challenge post that I wrote last week. If you didn't take it then, I encourage you to do it now. (Yes, I said "do it now.")


I do often wonder if we would help each other by acknowledging the struggles we've had in marriage. I know when I thought we weren't going to make it, I looked at the married couples I knew and wondered why it couldn't be as easy for us. What we were doing wrong.


When, really, I had no idea what their marriages were really like.


I actually broke down crying in my small group at Bible Study one morning over it. And do you know what? Of the 5 women at my table, 4 of them starting telling me stories about the rough spots that their marriages went through and how they came out on the other side of those struggles, knowing that they really were going to make it. And the 5th? She was a newlywed.


That helped me so much. Knowing that our marriage wasn't doomed, just because we had a really rough spot. Knowing that you can have those rough spots and make it.


So, I'm laying bare that for you today. In case you are going through a rough spot. Know that it is possible to work things out together and to have a strong marriage. Maybe even a stronger one, because you've realized that you can have fights with each other and yet still fight to keep your marriage together and win!


Hubs and I just celebrated our 7 year wedding anniversary and expect to celebrate many, many more.

*****

I Panic and Practically Spout Poetry

I had a motherbitches post all planned for you today. I really wanted to tell you the rest of the story that I hinted at on one of my post-its yesterday.

I think it will make you laugh and roll your eyes.

But, I guess Wednesday is rapidly becoming my day when I'm actually serious for once and pour my heart out to you. Last week, it was about Bear's struggles.

This week.....

Yesterday afternoon, my phone rang.

It was Hubs, telling me that he had been in a car accident.

He was driving home from Raleigh, about 2 hours or so away from here.

He was on a major highway(40 for any of you familiar with the area), when he started to slide.

The truck started to spin out.

If he hadn't somehow managed to gain a little bit of control, he would have spun out into oncoming traffic.

As it was, the truck spun around more times than he could count.

He said he felt like it was going to flip.

Somehow, there wasn't much traffic around him and what there was managed to avoid him.

The truck went off the side of the road and down an embankment, where it slammed into several trees.

All of the windows shattered.

The truck could have kept going down the hill and probably flipped, but was stopped by the trees.

The truck is totalled.

Hubs, though, is fine.

He's a little sore and I'm sure he will be feeling even more sore when he wakes up this morning.

But, he's fine.

Monday is our seven year wedding anniversary. I have engagement pics in this post to share with you. Weren't we just so cute?

Seven years.

We've had our ups and downs.

If you would have asked us both around the 2 year mark how long we thought we'd make it, the answer probably would have been: probably not until 3 years, unless the divorce papers haven't quite gone through yet.

So, I do mean ups and DOWNS.

Somewhere along the line, we grew the hell up and realized what it takes to make a marriage work.

And we have no doubts that we'll be together forever.

But, one phone call is all it takes to remind you that sometimes "forever" might not be as long as you think.

Go show your husband, your wife, your kids, your whoever-means-a-lot-to-you some love today.

We will be back to our regularly scheduled programing tomorrow, as well as the dance-off on Friday.

And I won't forget about the motherbitch story.

More Wordful Wednesday at Seven Clown Circus

A Completely Different Child

Just a few months ago, my little Bear....

Oh, my Bear.

He has always been such a sweet little boy.

But, he really struggled.

Developmental delays.

Sensory Processing Disorder.

Speech delays.

Even the big "A" word was tossed around.

All as a result of an illness that he had.

No one could tell us if the effects would go away as his body healed or if there would be permanent neurological damage. Just typing those three words makes me want to throw up.

I tried my best to hold it together during the day, but I would go into his room when he was sleeping, run my fingers through his hair, and pray for God to heal him. And cry. Wanting him to be "normal." Wanting everyone to be able to see the sweet little boy that he is.

Bear, on his first day of 3 year-old preschool.

He would try to express himself, get frustrated that he couldn't, and sometimes bite someone.

Or scream.

He'd try to tell us things, but couldn't really string many words together. Unless he was singing. It's the reason I tolerate the weirdness of Yo Gabba Gabba. Their songs helped us communicate with our son.

He'd cover his ears and leave the room if things were loud.

You could call for him and it was like he couldn't even hear you.

And not in the same way that my other boys might choose to ignore me.

He really couldn't hear me.

Getting him to do simple things like sit down or walk with his classmates in a line were impossible for him.

He wasn't trying to be difficult or defiant.

It was just beyond him to be able to do those things.

Even trying to get him to cooperate enough to be able to be evaluated by the early childhood interventionists was near impossible. They weren't sure what to do with him, since they couldn't really tell us any results that they considered valid. So, all they would suggest is that we retest him in a few months. Over and over again.

But, oh, how he's changed.

We all understand him now.

He speaks in long sentences.

He answers when you ask him a question.

Sometimes he says or does things that his older brother would get in trouble for, but we laugh and hug him. Excited that he CAN say these things.

He is able to sit and participate with his classmates.

He can hear you when you call for him.

Sometimes he might choose not to actually do what you tell him to, but it's a choice, not an inability to process what you are asking him to do.

He still has some struggles, but he is healing.

It's like he is a completely different child from who he was just a few months ago.

Bear, on the day of his preschool Valentine's Day party

I'm typing this with tears in my eyes.

He went through another early childhood intervention screening recently. I watched from another part of the room as he sat at the different stations, following directions and talking to the evaluators. We only hit one small bump, because they had over-scheduled the evaluations and at one point, he had to play for about a half an hour before moving to the final station. By that point, he was tired and wanting to play and didn't cooperate.

But, that was only one small segment. And I think it's even understandable for any three year-old.

The results of that screening told the team that he did not need to come back to undergo the full screening. Not unless I, as the parent, had additional concerns.

Because I like to be on the safe side and I'd rather he get additional help now if he needs it, and because his score was not much above their cut-off point for needing to have further evaluations done, I did tell the team that I wanted to bring him back for the full evaluation. That is where we are headed this afternoon.

I still worry about him. I don't know if I'll ever stop.

But, I know now that he is getting better. And pray that in time, there will be no lasting effects from his illness.

What a blessing.

Click HERE for other people who have to tell you the story behind their pictures.

Heartbreaking: Kelsey's Story

Control.

There was a time in my life as a teenager when I felt like the only thing that I could control was the food that I ate(or didn't eat).

Six months of my life when I barely ate a thing.

Fruit, crackers, diet soda.

I liked feeling in control.

It had nothing to do with weight.

I was tiny to start with.

Luckily, I snapped out of it.

Not everyone is so lucky.

Go read this post: Kelsey's Story

Can you help?

What's Really Wrong With Me

Oh, God, did I ever leave myself open with that blog title.

Try to be nice.

I'm referring to the funk that I fell into yesterday.

I need to say just how much I love those of you who commented.

It's so nice to hear encouragement.

But, I think I've figured out what's at the root of my mood.

Other than pms and lack of sleep. (took some pamprin, and went to bed early...champagne may have been involved....)

We moved back to NC a little over 2 months ago. It was an extremely quick move. There really wasn't much time to even think about it, I was just so busy getting us ready to move and then getting us settled.

And, to friends, who asked if I was happy with our move I said an enthusiastic YES.

That I don't miss PA at all and I'm so happy here.

To some extent, that's true.


Our house here is amazing.

It's right on the beach.

The beach relaxes me.

The boys love it, too.

I even sleep with the sliding glass doors open in my bedroom, to be able to hear the ocean.

Here are the boys, playing on our top deck: Yes, this is the deck that Bear likes to pee off of.

Even taken on a day when it's not so sunny, it's still gorgeous.

The pace of life here is much more laidback. And I'm a laidback kind of a girl.

Hubs' job allows him to be home with us a lot more often.

Bear is improving all the time. He's away from the crap that was poisoning him and making him sick(post for another time).

Bear and Monkey go to an awesome school, and at the same time, so that I have some nice breaks with just Cub.



Sounds great, right? Which is why I usually bounce around and say how happy I am with our move.




And I still am.




Yet...




Some of the bad came crashing down on me the other day.




Bear is getting better- but we have to start the whole early intervention evaluations allllllll over down here.



It breaks my heart every. single. time. I have to explain Bear's illness to someone(again, a post for another time). And I have to keep explaining it down here.

With Hubs being home every night for dinner, I've gained ten pounds in 2 months. And we haven't joined a gym yet. Even though you might know that what I really like to do at the gym is this, not exercising is depressing. My pants not fitting is depressing.

I don't have my bff or college buddy down here. The two people whom I could talk to without any filter and know that they would love me anyway. We do still keep in touch, but no more getting to go out, have some drinks, and get time away. Plus, bff's boys were my boys' bffs.

I've realized that a lot of the so-called friends I had in PA...whom I would talk to through email/fb almost everyday, go out with for margaritas about once a month or so, and our kids all used to be each others' playmates, so we used to have playdates all the time- until school got in the way, so it's been a while since the playdates anyway...but, most of them cannot even be bothered to click "like" on a fb status, let alone actually talk to me. And it's not for lack of trying on my part. I didn't realize those were such friendships of convenience.




I'm trying to get out around here, but I've told you how that has gone down here. I know if I keep looking, I'll find people that I connect with, but it's hard to find those people through all the motherbitches.




Though I love where we live and will be happy staying in this area forever, it's a hike to any place that I want to go. So, it's harder for me to say once Hubs is home, "Hey, I'm going to go run to Barnes and Noble or Target." Even if I didn't really need something, I would use those as an excuse to have some quiet time away. Now, it's a 30-45 minute drive to get to those places.





I'm still happy with our move because I know it's what was best for our family. Though here, I'm talking about Hubs, our 3 boys, and me. If I get into how my family members back in PA have reacted to this, that would just be another thing to add to the list of things that suck.



I know that I'll settle in more and find my place again.



But, until then, I really liked this bit of advice from Stone Fox yesterday:
Stone Fox said...
so what you gotta do is get yourself a tiara and a sash. crown yourself Princess Poutypants. get a banner and some buttons made. they should say "I *heart* My Pissy Attitude." pick up some party hats and streamers. have a Pity Party. the only things you are allowed to eat at the Pity Party are cake and cheezy poofs.or you can skip right to the eating cake and cheezy poofs part. the rest seems like an exhaustive amount of work now that i've written it down. let me know if there is going to be cake. i'll wear my Eatin' Pants.

So, you're all invited to my pity party. I'll have tiaras, buttons, cake, cheezy poofs, and wine for you all. Had to throw in the alcohol, you know.

But, I'm the only one who gets to wear the Princess Poutypants sash.

I believe,

I hesitated about writing this post.



Because it has to do with religion.



Religion and politics, two subjects we should avoid, right?




But, here's the thing: I started this blog so that I would have an outlet to be able to say whatever is on my mind, without having to worry about what others would think.





I'm not going to change that, just because I have some readers now(love you!), and I'm not just talking to myself.







So, here I go.




I have friends who have similar beliefs to mine, friends who are of different religions, and friends who have no religion. Love all of them.


But, what I've noticed lately is that when someone says that they do not believe in God, they receive a positive and supportive response(in general, anyway).



Good for you- you are so independent.



You think for yourself.



You're such a strong person.

I can understand why you think that way.

But, if someone says that they do believe in God, the reaction is the opposite.



You are so narrow-minded.




You're weak.





Why can't you trust in yourself?



You shouldn't judge others(as if by saying I believe in God, it automatically means that I judge others).



Why do you believe that nonsense?



And it goes on and on.



I just don't get why the attitude is that it's acceptable not to believe in God and that no one should question that non-belief, that we should support people's right to believe that there isn't a God, but the opposite is true if someone says that they believe.



If you tell me you don't believe and we're in a situation where we can have a conversation, I might tell you that I do believe. I won't force what I believe down your throat or try to convert you from what you (don't) believe, but I don't see what's wrong with saying that I believe when you don't.


I don't think that going into great detail about why I believe and specifically what I believe is going to change your mind, though I'm willing to have that conversation should you want to.


All I ask is that if there is understanding for people who choose not to believe, the same courtesy should be extended to those of us who do.

Seeing the boy: Wordful Wednesdays

Because I don't know how to simply post a pic and not say something. I'll write more about Bear and his challenges at a different time. It's something that is still relatively new to us and hard to talk about, even on this blog that is supposed to be one where I can say anything...

But, I still needed to share this much, as the way that others(particularly family recently) see this little boy.

Bear is a beach person, just like his mama.

He's only 3.

He has the most beautiful smile.

He's quick to tell you that he loves you or to ask if you are okay.

He even brought me a tissue and tried to wipe my eyes when I was on the phone with his doctor, hearing his diagnosis.

Not having a clue that I was crying for him.

He has many challenges ahead of him.

But, I'll be there to help him.

I know that it is going to be a struggle.

People who don't know him don't understand.

I get that, I really do.

And thankfully, we've been blessed by people who are willing to try to understand him.

They don't just see his problems.

They just see a sweet little boy.

That's Not Me Anymore

Having 3 boys under the age of 5 at the playground tends to keep me occupied.



I don't really notice other things. Just constantly count my boys to be sure I know where they are. 1...2...where's?...oh!...3, 1...2...3...



So, I might not notice someone calling my name from across the playground.


I'm not intentionally being rude by not answering you, I'm just busy.



But, if you call me by a name that no one has called me in over 8 years, I won't even look in your direction.



Yet, it happened on the playground last week.



"Emmy? I thought that was you!"



Blank stare at the girl heading across the playground towards me, toddler planted on her hip.



"It's Michelle," I stammer.



"No, it's Sarah, don't you remember me?" I blink and let her think that I got her name wrong, not that I'm correcting her.



She probably never knew me as anything other than "Emmy."



And I really don't want to explain to this girl why that isn't me anymore.



She plops down on the bench near where I'm standing and proceeds to tell me all that she has been up to since we last saw each other. I vaguely remember that she was married to someone who worked under my X.



I'm not paying much attention to her, still counting my boys to be sure they are all where they are supposed to be, but I'm starting to get lost in thought.



Lost in memories.

Luckily, Monkey rescues me by racing over to remind me that I promised that he and Bear could throw stones down by the sound.

I smile and excuse myself from Sarah, plunk Cub in his stroller and head off towards the water to let the boys try to skip rocks(aka try to make the biggest splash possible).

Sitting beside the stroller, with the two bigs throwing rocks right beside me(close enough to grab should they decide to go for a swim), I let myself think about Emmy.

And of course, that leads me back to X.

A long, long, long, long time ago, I loved him. Anytime I think of him, I think of a line from a Poe poem: "We loved with a love that was more than love." He's the McSteamy character in my life, though I married McDreamy(whom I love very much, btw...I can't help that I got hit over the head with this memory)

One day, when we had been dating for about 6 months or so, as we were taking a walk, arms wrapped around each other, he squeezed me and said, "One day, you'll be me."

I laughed and asked, "I'll be you?"

"No, you'll be ME. Your initials, after we get married, will be ME. M....E.....Emmy. I think I like that better."

And so I became Emmy.

That's how he would introduce me to people. And it was always with a wink or with a squeeze of my hand or my waist. It was his way of reminding me that he wanted to marry me.

We did get engaged.

Started planning our wedding.

It didn't work out.

Too much time has passed now to really even explain it.

But, it ended.

And I was heartbroken.

One of the last conversations I had with him, he said, "I'll always love you, Em..." and he broke off, knowing that he shouldn't call me Emmy anymore.

I laughed through all my tears and agreed that that was who I was now: "Just M. I'll never be M.E."

Looking at my 3 beautiful little boys, I'm glad that I never did become Emmy.

The most important name change that ever happened for me was when I became their Mommy.

The Mommy Wars: What Really Matters

You've probably heard all the sides.

Breast vs. Bottle

Stay-at-home mom vs. Working Mom

Cosleep vs. Baby in a crib from the start

Disposable diapers vs. Cloth

Public School vs. Private School vs. Homeschool

Whether you practice attachment parenting or not, allow your child to have binkies and lovies or not. When you potty train. When you start school. Tv or no tv.

And the list goes on and on.

This morning, I'm calling for an end to all the b.s.

Really, I don't care what you choose.

Your child, your family, your decision.

Here's what matters:

Is your child healthy?

My heart is breaking this morning, thinking about some sick little ones.

Like Jaden(click his button over there on the right, if you don't know his story), who is just 2 and fighting like a champ. (Also, see Supah's site to participate in the awesome auction she is putting together to help his family)

Like my cousin's newborn, 7 days old and in the NICU, awaiting the heart surgery that he will have tomorrow afternoon.

THAT is what matters.

Not any of the little choices that we make.

Choices that we think make or break our children's lives and that we tend to turn into wars with "our" side and "their" side and thinking we are the ones in the right.

Who freaking cares?

Is your child healthy?

Go give your babies a squeeze, look into their faces, and see what really matters.

All Touched Out

Don't get me wrong.

I love my little boys.

And I love their hugs, cuddles, snuggles, and whatever other term you want to use for affection.

But, occasionally...

I get all touched out.

Where I want to scream, "Don't touch me!!!!"

"Leave Mommy alone!"

*I've never actually screamed this, except for in my head.

And have no small child hanging on me, demanding to be held or carried.

That sounds so mean.

But, when Hubs is working, particularly when he is working late for several days in a row and the parenting all falls to me, my preschoolers and baby seem like cling-ons.

And then when Hubs finally gets home, he can FORGET ABOUT any sort of affection.

These moments as a mom who doesn't want to be touched...

They pass.

The guilt doesn't- it seems like one of those things that I shouldn't ever feel, as a mom.

Just bein' honest here.

A Naked Look

My eyesight is getting worse as I get older.



My contacts are -3.0, if that means anything to you.



What it means to me is that I can see clearly a few feet from me and everything past that is a blur.



Last night, I was getting out of the bath- yes, I actually got to take a nice, leisurely soak!!- and caught a glimpse of my naked self in the mirror.



As I dried off, I looked at myself- no contacts in or glasses on.



What I saw was a petite woman with soft curves, glowing skin, and wavy blonde hair.



I liked what I saw.

I actually thought "I'm a cute little thing."



And then, I put my glasses on.



SIGH.



Those soft curves and glowing skin?



FAT.



Stretch marks.



The "mommy tummy."



Dimples on my thighs and butt.



Wiggly flesh.



Pores that are too big.



Eyebrows that need plucked.



My hair?



A big, frizzy mess, badly in need of having my roots touched up and a haircut.



I sighed again.



And thought about it.



When I look at others, I see them through soft focus.



I see general appearance, but I don't stop to analyze every little detail and pick at every imperfection. It's as if I don't have my contacts in as I look at others.



But, with myself, it's not just that I see with perfect vision, I see as if I am looking at my reflection through a magnifying mirror.



Every little flaw can be seen.



I need to learn to be kinder to myself.



To look more through soft focus, instead of being so harsh.

Hypocritical

Oh, how hard this is for me to admit.

I really wish it were not true, since I don't like this about me.

I don't mean to be a hypocrite.

But, I've realized how much of one I really am.

Don't judge me, I will protest. You don't really know me.

And yet...

I hear stories about people.

Or witness things that they do.

And I judge.

I know I shouldn't.

That the tiny little glimpse that I see or hear about...

It isn't really who someone is.

That maybe I just saw them at their worst moment.

Maybe what I saw is something that they have never done before and have never done since.

Maybe it was a fluke.

Maybe I don't know the whole story.

I was sitting in church today when a woman walked past me to take her seat...and what popped into my head was oh, that's that slutty girl.

Really. Nice, huh?

Just because 2 or 3 years ago, at a moms' night out that I didn't even attend, my friends told me that she got drunk off her ass, flirted with all the guys around her, and then went home with some guy who most definitely was not her husband.

Do I know anything about what was going on in her life at that time? No, not at all.

Do I even know what is happening now? Nope.

But, I let one mistake that she made color my opinion of her.

I've done some stupid-ass stuff in my life.

And if someone were to judge me based on one of those moments, I'm sure they could come up with some charming labels for me.

I want to teach my kids not to judge.

That, unless they are actually in someone else's exact situation, they don't really know what is going on.

That they can't know how they would react in that situation.

That there could be so much going on that we don't know about.

I don't want them to judge others.

To be accountable for their own actions and to realize that everyone makes mistakes...

Mistakes that I hope don't have terrible lasting consequences and that people will not judge them by these moments of stupidity.

But, it's something that I have to work on myself.

I don't want to be a hypocrite.

Don't judge me, I will protest. You don't really know me....and I realize that I don't know you, either.

The Need for Two

Yes, I have two blogs.

One that is my family blog, where I post pics of our daily going-ons(goings-on? goings-ons? Really, I minored in English/Language Arts) and any cute little stories about the kids.

It is my attempt to keep a record of the little things that I know I would forget. And it also allows family who live far away to be able to see my boys more frequently than I would remember to email them pics.

Plus, they can look whenever they want. So, I'm not annoying them by always sending pics...or annoying them by not sending pics enough.

But, then, one day, I posted this little story about my oldest(3 years old at the time):

I can't believe I'm actually going to post this. But, I almost fell over laughing when I heard this, so I have to record it.

Monkey was awake, lying in his bed. I went in and was talking to him for a little bit, when this gem came out. "My peepee is growing."

I managed to keep a straight face and not comment, but he wasn't done.

"When you play with peepees, they grow."

Still not commenting, still a straight face.

Until....

"Like a beanstalk! You know how beanstalks grow and grow?"

Yup, almost fell off the edge of his bed, I was laughing so hard.

Well, my family was appalled. My mil especially. My mil, who can't even say the word "poop" when talking about a dirty diaper; instead, she has to whisper "b.m."

And, forget about actually being able to post my thoughts on anything.

It seems to give my relatives ammunition to criticise every. single. thing. I do.

So, this second blog became my outlet.

Where I don't have to censor myself.

It's very therapeutic for me.

And I just love interacting with other bloggers, so thanks for reading!

Seriously, I Love Hubs

Thanks to Chief, for making me take a serious moment this Sunday.




Usually, when I mention Hubs, it's to complain about him. How he isn't home. How he has no clue how much work I actually do. How clueless he is when it comes to anything to do with the boys. His golfing, poker-playing, soccer-lovin', laze-on-the-couch self.





But, really, I love him.





He loves me.





We have a strong marriage.





It wasn't always this way.





Shortly after the honeymoon phase wore off, we started thinking like emotional little kids: I don't know if I'm in love any more. You don't make me happy. I want something else.





And, we almost threw our marriage away to try to chase something that made us happier.





Thankfully, we wised up before we did anything drastic.





We realized that love is a decision. It's a choice you have to make over and over again, to continue loving your spouse. To work on your marriage.





That you might not always feel that madly-passionately-in-love feeling all the time.





But, that that's okay.




As long as you continue to make the decision to be there for each other and to work on it.



That feeling can come back.


Love is a decision. It's emotion, yes, but we've come to realize that's not just heart, but head, too.