How Tony got her groove back

When most people think about people going off and finding themselves they usually think of people going to some spiritual retreat or far off island. I, on the other hand, go back to the town I spent 18 years in and had sworn I was never going back to. Yes, I found myself in Salina. (When I told my sister I had rediscovered who I am, she promptly said in disbelief "In Salina?")Many of you have been reading my post know that I have been working through some issues. Most of them relating to mommyhood and wifedom (I just created words) But this weekend, between way too much beer, good coffee and some good friend advice, I found some valuable truths about myself that I had forgotten.
The fist truth is the biggest. Though I will always be a mother and a wife, those two things do not define who I am. Don't get me wrong, they play a huge part of my life, but they should never define my life. My worth and who I am does not come from either.
The second truth is going to cause a lot of controversy and I really don't care if people agree with me or not. It's that the church has done me and many woman like me, a huge injustice. Painting the picture of the good wife and mother as a humble, quiet woman. Never pushing her husband too far, and to be patient and always forgiving. That I should be self sacrificing and in this way I am serving my husband and serving the lord. This is a bunch of BS by the way. I will get to that in a minute.
The third and final truth I learned is just remembering who I am at all times. The woman that my husband fell in love with was a passionate woman who faced any challenge head on. She breezed by him when he was collecting cover at a local music hang out like she owned the place. Didn't even give him a second look. After a minute of being bored I walked to the back to go find my brother in law (who did partially own it) When my husband finally got the nerve to talk to me, we stayed up all night talking but was still to shy to ask me out. Over the next 3 days, to get my point I liked him, I made him clean dirt off my pants after I sat down, (this required him touching my butt) and purposely made him put his arm around me because I was "cold"
I am not humble or quiet. I brag about what I am good at. When I speak, I am listened too. And if you ignore me, I will get your attention. When I walk into a room, I expect to be looked at and noticed. My word in my home is law and will not be argued with. I am passionate about what I love and I face my fears. I am terrified of heights but have gone repelling off giant towers. I hate needles but have gotten a tattoo. I love thunderstorms and dancing in the rain. I love adventure and the unknown. I am spontaneous, carefree, and disorganized. I lose track of time and will always put talking with friends over everything else. I don't have many friends, but the ones I have I love with all my heart and will fight for them and with them. But most of all, I am passionate about my family. My kids and my husband. I will fight for both. I will not stand by as things and this world try to take that away from me.
So where does this leave me, well for one I am buying my first pair of shorts (ok skort) in the first time in years. The world is going to see my legs and you all just better deal with it. (And you will like it too) I got a whole bunch of books and I am not going to let some 18 year old boy beat me at my own video game :) And, last but not least, I am going to take up guitar.

5 Reasons Why we Love Dad (from the kids)

1. He doesn't know the rules so you can always get away with more when he is around.

2. You get to fly with daddy. And we aren't talking figuratively either. We mean flying through the air, onto the couch, on his feet. Whatever makes mom gasp and hold her chest like she is in pain, we love.

3. Riding on his shoulders so we actually can see in a crowd. His shoulders are the best seat in the house.

4. You always get to stay up past your bedtime. If you get playing hard enough, Dad never pays attention to the clock.

5. Dad and Saturday mornings go hand in hand. Mom would never let us sit and watch cartoons till our brains melted, but Saturday mornings are reserved just for that, in our PJ's, on Daddy's lap.

It's only natural...

I have to give a disclaimer on this post. This post is about sex. If you are uncomfortable with that subject, you really should stop reading.If you don't want to know about my sex life (or lack there of) stop reading. If you still believe that babies are made in a magic fairy land then delivered by some flying, giant bird...stop reading. But if you are able to realize that people have sex, and most likely judging form two offspring I have produced that at some point I have had sex, then you can read on. Even though sex and kids go hand and hand, one is not always conducive to the other. While more sex can mean more kids, rarely does more kids lead to more sex. (If you have experienced otherwise, you need to share your secret to all, or just share what pills you are on.) Before kids, I remember lazy Saturdays that we didn't get out of bed till noon (or later) This would be after a fun filled Friday night. And then even some more fun that evening, (or the shower, or after the shower, or while trying to get dressed...you get the picture)Just you and the hubs. Not fast forward to 2 kids later and Fridays are filled with trying to get the baby down before midnight. And if you accomplish this feat, it ends with you just passing out from pure exhaustion, only to be woken up all during the night by someone who just wants to suck on your boobs (and it's not your husband)Then Saturday is reserved for family fun time. And if, by some miracle, you have any energy Saturday night to try to have sex, someone always wakes up right at the exact wrong moment. Before kids, Michael going back to work on his lunch break with either a different shirt, or his shirt on inside out meant a little afternoon fun and may have won him some knowing winks from co workers. Now, it only means he got spit up on, peed on, or pooped on.
It also can take a lot of fun out of sex. It would not be uncommon to hear this conversation in a house with kids. "Kids down? Yup, ready? Yup, hey remind me to throw a load of clothes in after. *a minute or so goes by while you try to be romantic or get in the mood* Crap is that one of them waking up? I think so, lets just get this over with then you can grab the laundry and I will get the kid." Not exactly a scene from a romance novel, is it?
So why this wonderful glimpse into my love life? Because sex with kids can be fun too. For one, I co sleep with Kira (ok not really but her bassinet is right next to the bed. I mean, it's touching the bed) so this makes getting creative about where sex takes place as we don't have a bedroom (it may help not to think about this too much if you come over to my house) Also, you have to be quiet. Can't wake up the kids. This usually leads to lots of giggling as you are tripping around your house in the dark, naked. (just don't step on a lego, totally kills the mood) You learn to be spontaneous and seize the moment. And it can even get you out of chores. If by some miracle the kids are both asleep on a Saturday afternoon, you can usually convince your husband that there are better things to do than clean the kitchen or laundry (though he can remind you after) :)

Human Connection

I have decided to take a break from FB and twitter. I'm not sure if it will help or make me feel worse but I need...something. I have been finding myself making desperate attempts for human connection through both of those medias but it always falls short. In the last few months I have hit a rock bottom in my life that I don't know how to get out of. All day long I have the girls with me and when Michael gets home he helps and even takes over so I can get away. But I don't know where I want to go. I feel such a disconnection with life and the people around that I am beginning to feel like I am living some dream. The disconnected sleep I get at night on top of the stress of the everyday makes everything roll into one. And the 2 people I usually share my soul with are having their own problems. One just had a baby herself and is feeling much like I feel though in a different way and the other is having family problems too. And of course connecting with Michael lately is impossible. One of us always has one of the girls. The times we used to connect at night are gone. Kira doesn't go to sleep til midnight or later. Michael leaves for work before I am up, lunches with him are quick, if at all and after Michael gets home, I either have somewhere to go or he does. And the rare evenings we get together are pure craziness. So I sit alone all day, with 2 children who drive me nuts. I love them with all my heart. When I question my life with them, I cry at the thought of not having them, but then cry at the thought of them being with me.
So my response to this is to post my thoughts and feelings on FB or Twitter. But, trying to sum up the emotions of my heart in 440 characters or less was very hard :). And the responses I got never filled the emotional void I am feeling. I think I almost became like a crack addict, posting my thoughts and then waiting for the emotional high that each response gave me, then I would be just as let down over how quickly the high left. It left me wanting to post more to get more comments. Sick, I know. But the emotional emptiness I feel is that wide. So I am stepping back, even though at this moment, I am itching to post something, anything. Human connection. And even as I reread this post I see what I am showing of my soul and wonder if I am sharing too much, I can't stop. My life at the moment, I feel this is the only way to get out to the world how I feel. And though I desperately want the comments, to know someone is reading this, I also fear it. That someone, somewhere is knowing how much I hurt, and how much I am falling short, unable to cope with motherhood.

Tips on painting

Ok so I am a smart woman. I can rebuild an engine, play multiple musical instruments, and I gave birth so at this point in my life I am pretty confident I can do anything. So I decided to paint my kitchen cabinets by myself, no prob. I have painted before. Well today I learned a few things. Here they are.


1. the blue painters tape does NOT stick to ANYTHING. Unless of course is curls up and then it sticks to itself so you can't unravel it.

2. No matter how many drop clothes you lay down you will drip paint on the floor. And since it dripped in a spot you didn't think it would you will not notice until you step in it and walk all around the house and get footprints everywhere.

3.Do not, under any circumstances, scratch your nose while holding the paint brush. you will paint your head.

4. Always paint top to bottom or you will end up leaning against something you just painted.

5. Ignore lesson 4 if you are doing the underside of the upper cabinets. You will end up hitting your head on the door you left open to dry.

6. Lock up all animals. They will step in you paint tray and make a mess. If you put up a gate that will only stop the dog. Your ever so graceful cats will jump it, and somehow trip at the top (even though you have used this gate for over a year) and fall into the cabinet you just painted.

7. Again lock up all animals. The cats will think that since you are on the floor that you want to pet them. If you continue to ignore them they will rub up again the cabinet you just painted and start to look like that cat from pepe le pu.

8. Take off the hardware from the cabinets before you start painting. It seems obvious but you forget, then you think "hey if I am careful it will be ok" It will never be ok

9. Never drink while painting. You can always tell where you started drinking and at what point when you had too much.

10. If you ignore lessons 1 thru 8 go ahead and ignore 9 so you don't care at the end.

11. Have your husband do it. That's why you got married. And while he learns lessons 1-9 you can just go ahead to lesson 10.

I shall call him squishy and he shall be mine

My high school reunion is around the corner and it has me looking at me. Oh not my life, personality or where I am at in life, I mean it has me looking at the mirror and asking WTF happened!!!! I know I remember a time when my stomach was small and didn't look like a road map of New York City. Ahh I remember the first time I went shopping after Ari. It ended with me locked in a dressing room of Christopher Banks sobbing my eyes out because the only clothes that fit me were "old lady" clothes (I am sorry to anyone I may offend who shops there. It was the hormones talking) This happened after I went to J.C. Pennys and tried on a shirt from the junior section. (I had always shopped in the juniors section) After doing a dance in the dressing room that probably looked like I was having a seizure I asked Michael what he thought. You know what that man said??? No...not just no but no, you are too old for it. Too old. I was 25 bloody years old. It my anger I marched my self to Christopher Banks and tried on clothes. The fact that they didn't require the seizure dance to put on made me realize that Michael was right. Thus, the mental breakdown with the poor saleslady trying her best to calm me down. So now, a little over 3 months since I have had to have Kira, I am no where close to my weight lose goals. And will I ever be? I don't have the discipline to go on a diet. I love food way to much and of course, I love my wine and beer. Though I do try to eat somewhat healthy. And nor do I ever plan on being a person who lives at the gym. Though for the next 2 weeks I do plan on going everyday. So I think my new goal will be just loving me. That as long as I have energy to keep up with Ari and Kira I think I will be fine. And I will just have to accept that parts of me are just...well, squishy.

Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day. The last time I went to a cemetery on Memorial Day was the Memorial Day after my mom died. We went because they always say the names of all the veterans who had passed in the last year. I remember sitting there, listening to list of names being said. I was 12 at this point and I remember even on that warm May day, I felt cold. I looked around the cemetery that I had been to so many times before and I knew now what all it meant. The years before my Mor Mor and my mom had always taken me to visit Mor Far’s grave and an older sister I had who died as a baby. In those years prior, I had always played on the gravestones. 3 in particular were my favorite. They were the kind that were completely cement, no dirt. I would jump from one to the other till Mor Mor told me to stop and have respect for the dead. I didn’t know what she meant. I don’t think I fully understood what “dead” meant and that people could be dead.
But on that Memorial day, waiting for my mom’s name to be said, there was no jumping from grave to grave, in fact I was very careful of where I walked. In the last year I had lost my dad, my mom, and mor mor, and the dirt on their graves were still fresh. I now knew what was under my feet. Under my feet were people that had once been loved and been full of life. That was 16 years ago and I have never been back on a Memorial Day. I have been to the graves countless times but due to where I live and I have never been close enough to make the trip. But now I am visiting for my nieces graduation and I am faced with going, and not only going, but I have both girls with me also. I have never taken them before. No specific reason but now that I have the option I don’t know if I want to. Is a cemetery a place for a 3 year old? She really won’t understand, and I pray that she will never understand until she is much, much older. But then again, there must always be a first.
I decide that yes, I will go. And I will take both girls. And you know what? It worked. Yes she didn’t understand and yes I had to get after to not to pick the flowers off of other graves but we had fun. We picked the spare flowers that had blown away and even a couple real flowers. And to top things off, she jumped from grave to grave on the 3, just like another little girl did not so many years ago.