Taking A Break

It's been nearly two months since my last post. I have so much to say, and yet, nothing at the same time. I've taken a break from life, from going out with friends, from defining myself by who I hang out with and the choices I feel obligated to make.

It feels good. It feels damn good.

Over the past couple of months, Dustin and I have done a lot with our relationship as a couple and as a family. We've made it a point to include our children in more of the conversations we have about our future, we ask their input and really consider their opinions and feelings. I have to remind myself children are people too, with good days and bad days, and with feelings that matter. They're not only students, but teachers as well. Each child has taught me how to better parent the next, how to be patient, loving, and kind. I constantly remind myself to be the mom I want them to have, the mom I want them to remember as they grow older and become parents themselves.

Recently, Dustin Jr. transitioned from a crib to a toddler bed. I fully expected it to be a rough road, he's very structured and doesn't react well to change. Luckily, it was Buzz Lightyear to the rescue, and he adores his new bed. As Dustin and I disassembled the crib, I caught myself feeling a wave of emotions I thought I had already conquered. That crib, which is still sitting in my garage, belonged first to Laila, second to Kenadi, and last to my son. I thought I was prepared for it, I had convinced myself that after nearly 8 years of staring at the same piece of furniture, it was time for it to go. Wrong. What I wasn't prepared for were the flashbacks. As I ran my hand along the railing and felt Laila's teeth marks from when we lived in the apartment in Michigan, the first tear of many fell down my cheek. When I spotted the formula stains Kenadi left on the base board of the crib from when we lived in our old house, a dozen more tears followed. Finally, as I changed the sheet on the mattress, I saw the streaks of black permanent marker my son had left one day, here in his bedroom in this very house, and I cried. Hard. Not for the loss of this crib, or my children's baby years, but for the end of that stage in our lives, and my time as a parent.

In addition to being handsome, my son has also become quite the artist! He has colored on nearly all my cream colored walls with an assortment of colored crayons! Rest assured, he's not the only child to have decorated my walls, my friend's daughter has also helped. I decided it was due time to clean up the walls with a fresh coat or two of paint. Saturday afternoon I cracked open the can, got my roller ready, and went to town! The first few walls had just a few markings, but once I made my way to the living room. I found a whole canvas of artwork. Looking back, I probably should have photographed it so I won't ever forget, but at the time I was in a hurry. I smiled to myself, (let's not try and kid anyone, I cried then, too) and thought of all the good times I've had in the years we've spent turning this house into a home. I've created such a relationship with my neighbor and friend, I've literally watched our kids grow up together. Our youngest kids have been born since our friendship began, and the kids have accomplished so many milestones together that painting over those memories from our children nearly broke my heart.

Good things are coming, new adventures await us, I can feel it in my bones. The stars are going to align and take us to a new, uncharted land. I have to believe it, or it will never come true. As long as I keep my chin up, my heart in the right place, and settle for nothing less than what I deserve, I will be unstoppable. My marriage will flourish, my children will grow and be successful and my life will be complete.

Until next time.