Gabby? Still very sick, but not in the hospital. Smiling more, still coughing and wheezing. Is going to be ok.
HMO’s? Suck.
Me? Not sleeping for 3 nights in a row is AWESOME!!!
My tits? Still look like this.
My house? Smells like snot, eggs and lysol with just a hint of B.O. And? It’s filthy.
You?
I just found a picture. A picture of a perfect little boy. He couldn’t have been more than a year old. Kneeling next to him was a beautiful, young woman with a smile on her face. This wasn’t an ordinary smile, either. This woman was bursting with pride and happiness. What a perfect picture.
And suddenly, I felt as though someone punched me in the stomach and knocked the living shit out of me.
The woman in that picture was someone I used to know.
The woman in the picture was me. A very young me.
How beautiful I used to be. How genuinely happy and full of life and love I once was.
What happened to that woman?
Life happened. Some good things, and a lot of bad things. Things that have robbed her of the pure smile. She’s become a woman burdened with shame, guilt, regret and depression. Somewhere along the way, she got lost and hasn’t quite found her way back.
I mourn for that young girl I see in the picture. I mourn for all she’s lost. All she’s destroyed with her stupidity and selfishness and stubborness.
As I cry, this precious little girl who I’m holding in my arms, my daughter, wraps her arms around my neck and nuzzles her little face against mine and although she can’t speak, she tells me “it’s ok, Mommy, I love you”. Her soft skin against my aging, dried out skin tells me to forgive myself, to leave the past where it lies and to move forward. Her sweet breath against my cheeks tells me that I’m not all bad, that I’m just human. Her gentle little coos in my ear tell me that I am worthy of love and that no matter what, she loves me, her brothers love me, her daddy loves me and I should love myself.
“Forgive yourself”, she says.
I don’t know if I can. I’ve hurt people I love. I’ve said things I can’t take back.
At times, it feels as though I’ll never be that beautiful woman again. I’ll always be tinged with ugliness. I’ll always be the depressed girl just trying to make it through life.
Then I feel my daughters tiny little fingers grab ahold of my hair, and it’s as if she’s grabbed ahold of my heart. I am aware of the fact that at this moment, I have to make a choice. A choice to stay stuck in the past, boggled down with guilt and sadness, to never move forward, doomed to repeat the mistakes of my past. Or, to forgive myself and to live in THIS moment. To live FOR the moment. To rediscover the joy that is my life NOW, in the present and to build on that for a future full of great things.
I have a choice.
I choose forgiveness, love, happiness, new experiences. I choose to live for the moment, expecting only the best for the road that lies ahead. Never looking back, except to reflect on how far I’ve come.
My God, it’s never been clearer to me than it is at this moment, she wasn’t an “accident” she was God’s gift to me and that gift is my second chance.
Fourteen years ago today, I married that sexy hunk o’man right thurrrr. I was only 19 years old. I had no idea what was in store for me, nor was I aware of HOW BIG his GLASSES really were, because I was too blinded by the “L” word. All I knew was that I was completely in love with him and I wanted to grow old with him.
In these past 14 years, we’ve made love like crazy, made THREE beautiful children, fought about money, meat, toilet paper, broken ovens, toe nails clippings, laundry, his mom, his need to mention “he has a tubesteak for me” every five minutes, bills, my sloppiness, etc, we’ve seen movies together, comforted each other, sang to each other, rubbed each others back and various other body parts, supported each other, let each other down, picked each other right back up. We’ve been through so much together and through it all, we’ve never stopped loving each other. Sure, there were times we COULDN’T STAND EACH OTHER. Times where we’ve questioned our love, but it’s always been there.
We’re not a perfect couple, not even close, but the thing I love about us? We don’t GIVE A SHIT about perfect. We likes keepin’ it real, yo.
Happy Anniversary, you big dorky Pig Hunter.
Te Amo, Mi amor.
Let’s play a game. I’ll ask you a question and give you multiple choice answers. Can you guess the correct answer?
Question
What question should you never EVER ask your wife who’s been home all day taking care of your newborn baby and your 2 boys AND trying to take care of EVERYTHING ELSE?
A) How was your day, my QUEEN?
B) Did you lose more weight?
C) Can I rub your feet?
D) What did you DO all day?????
E) Would you like me to go to Starbucks for you?
The past few days I’ve not felt very good. I’m not sick, but I’ve been very sensitive about things. I cry easily, I get upset quickly, I feel frustrated at the stupidest things. Last night, Tony finally said something about it.
“You’re not doing well, are you sweetie?” He asked.
I broke down. No, I’m not. I’m not worried yet, I know everyone else is though.
“Oh, could this be the post partum depression her doctor warned her about?”
No. It’s not. If you know me at all, you know that I know depression. You know it nearly ruined my life last year. I promised myself if I ever started to feel that way again, I would reach out for help immediately instead of pulling away from the world like I before.
I just think the drastic changes in my life are taking a toll on my body and my mind. The lack of sleep, learning how to divide my time and affection between three children while trying not to ignore my husband in the process. Then there’s the housework, the bills, the homework, family, friends, animals. Oh, and let’s not FORGET THE GRASS that needs to be watered. I just feel extremely overwhelmed right now. Happy, in love, blessed… but overwhelmed.
Tony recognised it because I’ve been extremely sensitive these past few days and I’m normally not the sensitive type. I’m taking things people say to me the wrong way. I’m interpreting everything as a put down, an insult, as mean, as harsh, etc. I recognize that it’s ME and not everyone else. Sensitive y is not a fun person to live with. (I can NOT believe I just referred to myself in the third person.)
I am not depressed, I’m just in a funk and I’m not sure how to snap out of it.
this helps (THE COMMENTS!!!), because it makes me laugh really hard, but perhaps me and the family need a night out of this house…
Last night I was trying to sleep, when I was awoken by THE SOUND OF WELDING in my garage. I looked at the clock and it was ONE IN THE MORNING.
I freaked out. I opened the front door and screamed at Tony.
“What the HELL are you doing? Do you know what time it is?”
Who the hell welds shit at ONE IN THE MORNING?
Pig hunters, I guess.
He tells me he was just “finishing something up” and I tell him,
“YOU’RE A FREAK.”
I was just about to slam the front door, when my 4-ft Selena murderer look alike neighbor comes running up my walk way. She was having a panic attack.
She started begging Tony to call the police because her sons and husband were fighting. She could barely talk, I thought she was going to faint. She said she couldn’t take it anymore and she wanted the police to take them away.
5 minutes later, the cops show up and she goes crazy, screaming and yelling, she opens her front door and her 2 little dogs TAKE OFF down the street. It was hilarious, they were like “We’re getting the HELL out of this house”.
It was the most insane night ever. Needless to say, I didn’t get any sleep last night and it looks like I won’t be getting any sleep this morning because THERE ARE FUCKING GARDENERS MOWING HER LAWN. It’s not even 8am, ON A SATURDAY.
What the hell, man, just… what the HELL?
(ps. would anyone believe me if I said that I decided to climb into bed inspite of the noise from the gardeners and when I tried to lay down, I couldn’t, because there was a GIGANTIC RIFLE laying on my bed??????? Probably not, huh?)
My Grandparents came over to see Gabriella. They fell in love with her instantly. It was an emotional moment for me to watch my Grandfather smiling at her because I remember the day he told me he was so sick he only had a year to live. I cried for days because I thought “he’ll never see me get married”.
That was 14 years ago and he’s still here. And he was able to see his great granddaughter. It touched me deeply.
Then, as they were leaving and Tony was helping my grandpa to the car, my grandpa turned to Tony and said “Your little girl is beautiful, Tony and it breaks my heart that I won’t live to see her get married.”
I sobbed like a baby when he said it and I cry everytime I think of it.
Like right now.
Why can’t Grandpas live forever?
Last night was the first time since giving birth to Gabby that I actually got some sleep. She woke up 3 times last night and went to sleep each time after her feeding. I feel so much better today just from getting that sleep!!
Now, if I could only STOP SWEATING!! Oh my God. It’s disgusting, yet strangely, I don’t mind because I know I’ll lose a few pounds from it. My feet almost look normal again. I’m sure that has something to do with all of this sweat! I still can’t fit in most of my shoes, but if the sweat keeps up at this pace, I’ll fit in them in no time.
The one thing I don’t think I’ll be fitting into any time soon is my bra. Sweet Jesus, I have no moved up to a E CUP, people. I might be happy about this, except for the fact I have a Q SIZED ASS to match! Oh, and they hurt like a hell and milk is constantly squirting out of them. The bulging veins alone are enough to make anyone dry heave. And no, I still do not know how much they weigh.
We never found the dogs last night. I couldn’t sleep all night, worrying that they might get hit by a car or beat up by other dogs.
I woke up around 6 to go look for them again. I found Snoop up the street, wondering with a dog that WASN’T Willie. He was soaking wet, covered in mud. He looked pretty traumatized.
“Where’s Willie?” I started crying. They always stay together.
I put the dumbass dog on my lap so he didn’t get my car full of mud and drove home crying all the way. As I’m walking up the sidewalk, I see paw prints on my walkway. Could it be? YES! Willie was at the front door waiting for me!
I wanted to kick them and hug them all over at the same time. I hated thinking something bad had happened to them all night long.
And if it wasn’t bad enough that I was worrying about my dogs all night, I had to deal with my fucking RUDE neighbors. They were partying all night, which I’m used to and I tolerate, but when the walls in my house are literally shaking from their music being so loud at THREE THIRTY IN THE MORNING?
Hell no.
I screamed out the window. “CAN YOU TURN THAT MUSIC DOWN??”
Tony got mad, said I should have just called the police. A very pregnant woman is MUCH scarier than the cops. Yes?
They turned it down, but not off, it went on until after 5 this morning. What the hell?
I don’t mind people having fun, partying, playing their music loud. I really don’t. But I think playing it that loud at 3 in the morning (and screaming “OH PLAY THAT SONG, FUCKERS, I FUCKING LOVE THAT SONG, PUT IT BACK FUCKERS” at the top of your lungs) is beyond rude.
Now that my dogs are safe and the walls have stopped shaking, I shall go back to bed and try to put my throbbing crotch back to sleep.
