PYHO: Just shut the F#@$! up. (Warning - foul language)

I am so tired of the moms who seemingly only complain about being a mom and their kids.

We all have our bad days.  We all complain sometimes.  We all wish we just had one fricking day, hell, one fricking minute to get out of mom mode.

But the moms who all they ever do is complain?

Shut the fuck up.

I have a friend who complains about how hard it is to be sick and take care of her kids.  This same friend complains every time her son doesn't pee or poop in the potty, every time he wakes up in the middle of the night, every time her kids do anything.  Sometimes it's vague.  Sometimes she rants about how her husband doesn't do anything, and why can't SHE just relax.

Another friend posts on FB 85% of the time complaining about her kids.  How she has a whiny two year old.  Why oh why do the kids sleep in when she has to work but when she's home they wake up early? 

I'm tired of it.  You are a mother.  You have been given pretty much the greatest  and most difficult job in the world.  It's relentless.  It's 24/7.  It's not always appreciated, it's unforgiving.  It's not always glamorous.    It's frustrating at times, disheartening at times, and sometimes it's just fucking hard. 

But it's also the most amazing thing in the world.  It's sloppy kisses and little hugs.  It's "Love you Mommys" and "One more song please"?  It's giggles and tears.  It's kissing the boo-boos to make them better.  It's tucking them in at night.  It's watching them learn, grow, and become who they are to be before your very eyes.  It's never having clean pants, never having a clean house, and never being able to just get up and go.

All the not so awesome things about being a mom don't even come close to measuring to the amazing wondergful things about being a mom.  There are women in this world, who all they want in life is to become a mother.  They would be sick every day for a year if it meant they got to have a child who called them Mommy.  They would wake up every two hours for 5 years if it meant they got to get baby cuddles every single day. These women?  Think you are an asshole when all you do is complain about how hard being a mom is.  Not that they don't think it's hard. But not much in life that's rewarding is easy.

So the next time you want to complain about being a mom, stop and think.  How many hugs and kisses did you get today? How many "I love you Mommy!" and how many giggles did you hear?  And appreciate the fact that some of the amazing women in this world will never get to experience that and YOU DO.  So shut the fuck up about your bitching, and be grateful you've been given the best job in the fucking world.

PYHO: Out of tragedy, happiness.

The past few years have been rough.   I watched my mom suffer from the worst disease, ALS or Lou Gehrig's disease, that robbed of her ability to move, speak, eat, or live.  I lost my mom to this terrible disease on February 24. 

I miss her more than anything.  I missed her so much when she was here, and now I miss her more than I could have ever imagine.  I'm sad that my stepdad is alone.  I'm sad that my kids will never experience their grandmother, because you bet your ass she would have been the best grandma there was. I'm sad that I'll never get to hear her tell me I'm doing a good job as a mom.  I'm sad she didn't get to do all the things she was looking so forward to doing.

But in the face of all this tragedy, I am striving to see the good.  Of course, I would have rather she'd never gotten ALS at all.  But since she did, and it is so cruel, I am glad she is no longer suffering because of it.  I'm proud that she fought till her very last breath. She gave it everything she had.  And I admire her for that. 

I am touched at the sheer number of people who came to say good-bye, who stepped up to be supportive, who commented on how much she loved me, how proud she was of me.

I am happy that this terrible experience has already brought my stepdad and I closer.

I am thrilled that, because it is something my mom would have wanted, that my family and I will be moving into their home -- a home that is bigger, better, nicer, and in a neighborhood where the schools are great and the kids will have a wonderful childhood.  Thousands of times better than where we currently are.

And I know that she is so happy that she was able to do this for me, for John, for PJ and for Maggie.  Knowing that they will have such a wonderful place to grow up, such a wonderful backyard to have fun in.  Knowing that their grandpa will be close by and able to come over often.

I am glad that the tension between John and I seems to have settled.  We haven't fought at all since my mom passed -- little nits here and there that have diminished quickly.  I never really thought about it, but subconsciously I think my mom being sick was leading to unnecessary fighting. 

I am strong.  I am stronger than I ever imagine I could be.  But I am strong because I am surrounded by people who love me and support me.

And because my mother was the strongest person I've ever known.

Love you Mom.

PYHO: Why is Valentine's Day so important?

I'm not a big celebrater of Valentine's Day.  We exchange cards, because I'm a huge card person.  We go out to dinner around V-Day, because our engageversary is February 7.

I don't get it though.  Why is it so important your significant other acknowledge a day someone else created?  A day filled with crowded restaurants, too expensive flowers, cheesy heart-shaped jewelry?

I personally prefer my husband makes a bigger deal out of the days that are significant to US. 

To our relationship.

The day we became a couple.

The day we got engaged.

The day we got married.

These are days I expect to be remembered.  Days that don't matter to anyone else but us.  Days that when I hear or see that date, I smile and remember a little of that day. 

Because really, Valentine's Day?  Unless it's one of those days, it's more for me to give candy to my kids. 

PYHO: Dear Maggie

Dear Maggie,

Hi baby girl.  I don't know if you'll ever actually read this. 

It's been brought to my attention that it appears I favor your big brother over you.

I assure you this is not my intention.  I love your brother and you so very much.  There is no more love or less love.  It is a love so strong, so intense, so unbreakable, so unconditional.  I would die for either one of you.  I will do anything and everything to make your lives happy, safe, and to make you feel loved and cared for.

Your big brother is my first born.  He's the person who made me a mommy.  This is a very special thing.  And because of it, I will always feel that from him. 

But you, baby girl.  You my beautiful daughter.  You completed me being a mommy.  You made me feel complete, whole.  Like I'd finally achieved what the most important thing in my life would be -- to be a mommy not only to a son, but to a daughter.  To have a little girl who would become my best friend, who'd call me and chat with me for hours, have shopping dates.

Who I would try to teach how to be a good friend and a good person.  To be a good sister and daughter.   What your period is all about, and how to be safe when giving and receiving love from another person.  To hold you when you are scared, comfort you when you are sad, and celebrate with you when you are happy.

Sometimes, I might react more quickly or more concerned when your brother cries or hurts himself.  It's not because I care less that you hurt yourself.  It's not because I think you don't need my love or comfort.  I am not sure what it is.  But I have a guess.

I see myself in you.  The determination on your face.  The happiness in your giggle.  The toughness you exude.  The independence you have shown since you were a tiny, tiny newborn.  Your ability to recover from a fall or hurting yourself faster, quicker than your brother did at your age.   So maybe I don't react the way I do when you fall down and cry as I do when your brother does.  I'll never begrudge you hugs, kisses, and care.  It doesn't mean I favor him over you.  It means I know you, my beautiful daughter, are a fighter.  I know you will pick yourself up, dust yourself off (literally and figuratively), and keep going.  And I know sometimes, you need me to be there and hold you and wipe away your tears.   And I will always be there for that.  I will never turn you away.

So if it ever appears that I am giving more attention to your big brother, it's not intentional.  Boys take longer to gain their independence.  And you, my darling little girl, have already begun to show me that you will have the strength, the drive, the determination to stand on your own two feet.

But know, this, daughter of mine.  I will ALWAYS be there to pick you up.

I love you more than words can ever express,

Mommy

PYHO: Loss

Today is a rough day for me.

Three years ago today, we lost our dog, the greatest, best dog I ever had and ever will have. 

Neo.  He died suddenly and unexpectedly.  He was not even six years old.  He had gotten bloat.  He died on our kitchen floor.  John and a neighbor put him in the car and we drove him to be cremated.  I was nearly 8 months pregnant.  It was devastating, and still is.  I think about him every single day. 

When I went to the bathroom a week after getting a positive pregnancy test, and saw the bleeding, and wept. experiencing another loss, Neo was the first one to come to my side.  I sobbed into his fur.  Neo was my protector, one of my greatest friends.  Some of you might think I'm crazy because I'm talking about a dog, but this dog was for a good portion of my early 20s, the only thing I had in the world.  I was in a terrible relationship with an abusive guy and thought I was doomed. Neo was my only hope.

In May of 2009, I began to lose my mother.  She was diagnosed with ALS, and every day since then, I have lost a little more of her, to the point that now there isn't much left to lose.  I will lose her completely, physically, emotionally, very very soon, I know.  That will prove to be the greatest loss of my life.

In January of 2011, we lost my father-in-law.  Suddenly, unexpectedly.  Devastatingly.  I'd already lost so much.  We'd already lost so much. We were already preparing to lose my mom.  Why did the universe hate us so much?

They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.   I often try to hold back my tears.  Sometimes I can't, and I cry over something seemingly insignificant.

I'm tired of being strong.  I'm ready to move on in my grief.  I'm ready for closure.

PYHO: Vowing

I've been kind of asshole again.

To the person I love most.

I need to stop and realize that I have a fantastic husband.  That my actions are causing him hurt, pain and to not want to be around me.

I know this, but for some reason, I can't completely stop.  I get better and then I relapse.

I don't want to go into detail.  I just want to stop.  I want to be nice, sweet, and loving.  I want to show him how much he means to me, how much I love him, how important he is to me, and how much he is the best part of my life besides the kids (which is a total different kind of love, as you moms know).

I'm starting today.  I'm vowing today.  To make our marriage better.  To make him feel the way I should be making him feel.

I feel like a total asshole.  And I should.  But he shouldn't any longer.

PYHO: The Man Period

You know what I'm talking about.

The crankiness.

The snapping.

The mood swings.

The nitpicking.

The woe is me attitude.

PMS?

Nope.

Your husband.  Your significant other.  Your spouse.  Has.  His.  Period.

Maybe you're lucky like me, and your man gets his period the same time every month, just like you do.  Maybe you're extra lucky like me, and since you started getting your period again, your periods overlap.

Maybe you're lucky in that you never know when it might show up.

But you know what I am talking about.

He snaps at you because you missed the garbage when throwing away a Q-tip.

Or maybe you forgot to put the remote back where he could find it, because clearly in plain sight wasn't good enough.

You sweetly ask "What's wrong babe?"

The response: "Nothing.  Why do you always think something is wrong??"

Maybe you lose your mind for a second and reply "Because you're acting like a dick, that's why."

To which he replies "No I'm not.  You're being a bitch."

Or maybe you've learned, after living through many man periods, that the response should be "Just making sure.  I love you!"

Have you suggested five things for dinner, all being shot down?  In turn, have you asked for suggestions, even going as far as "whatever you want!" and still getting "I said I don't know."  And then you make something and he's pissed because it's not what he wanted?

I'm pouring my heart about this, because I want as many women as possible to read this.  Because I have the solution.  To make the man period disappear. Immediately.

Are you ready??

Here it is:

THREATEN TO MAKE YOUR FACEBOOK STATUS:

"Man, I really hate when my husband has his period."

And all will be well in your home.

**Disclaimer -- my husband does not currently have his period.  It's not due till the 21st-25th of the month.

PYHO: Friendship

It's a new year. 

I've been thinking the past few days, when I realized this was the 7th new year John and I have rung in together (actually, 10th if you could the other three we rang in together when we were not a couple), about how truly, truly amazing the friends I have are.

My two oldest and best friends have been with me since I was 16.  We have had our periods of disconnect.  We have had our differences.  But nothing ever changed between us. We never loved each other any less.  We all had babies in 2009.  The same doctor delivered all of them -- three boys.  Dylan, PJ, and Luke.

I love these girls like sisters.  I would do just about anything for them.  One is the godmother to Maggie.  If either of them had godmothers for their children, I'm certain I would be the godmother to one or more of their kids.

Then I have my other close friends.  I have about 7-8 other close girlfriends.  Friends I love with my heart and soul.  Friends I can tell anything to.  The girls who get together for girls night out.  And I have known the majority of these girls for anywhere from 10-13 years.

I also have a solid group of close guy friends, some I've known since I was 16, some I've know since I was 19.  I can depend on them.  They can depend on me.  We help each other, look out for each other, celebrate each others happinesses and lean on each other for support in times of trouble.  Alot of these people I've mentioned are in this picture:

Some are missing.   But most of them are there.  Celebrating me and John's wedding day, because, for the most part, we have the same friends.  Since we were friends first.

I have another group of friends.  Girls I talk to on a daily basis.  Girls I met when I was planning my wedding and we now have formed a private group message board where we talk daily.  These girls know more about me than they probably ever wanted to know.  But they are a rock.  A support system.  Friends.  Friends I'm not sure how I would have gotten through some of the rough times without.

And then there's my bloggy friends.  Some of you I wish lived near me because I know how much fun we have.  Some of you I think about daily, when something comes up that makes you pop into my head.  Some of you are truly, truly friends.  Especially Rebecca, Monica, Sara, Rach and of course, Shell, the wonderful host of tis link up.  I consider all of you who's blogs I read and who read mine friends, but those five have been with me since the beginning.  And I love you ladies.  I love sharing your joy, feeling your pain, and for all the support, care, laughs, and love.

So cherish your friends.  I know I do.

PYHO: The Cheesiest Gift

There's alot of gifts in our house.  Mostly for PJ and Maggie.  Some for me, some for John.  Some for nieces, nephews, grandparents, parents. 

However, I get a gift every single day.

My gift is that the two greatest kids in the world call me Mama.

It's cheesy, I know.  I totally get it.

But no matter what kind of day I've had, when I get to the sitter's house, I have two amazing little people running towards me and screaming Mama and wrapping themselves around my legs.

How can I not smile?  How can I not scoop them up and smother them with kisses?

I have a son who when I say "Ow" or I drop something asks "You okay mama?" like I do to him.

I have a daughter who is happy every. single. morning when she wakes up -- even if I wake her up before she's ready.

I get kisses all day long.  I get hugs and smiles and giggles.

I get joy.  Happiness.  Pure happiness.

For simply being a mom.

I have a son who is learning new things every day.  Who is sweet, sensitive, and concerned for the people he loves.  A son who is independent (already) but still needs his mama's help sometimes.  A son who loves with his whole heart. A son who worries about where his little sister is if she's not with us at that moment.

I have a son who made me a mother.  A son who gave me this gift.

I have a daughter who is smart as a whip.  Who says things everyday that I know she has learned from her big brother.  A daughter who wants to be cuddled, read to, hugged, and kissed. A daughter who wants everything her big brother has.  She is sweet, beautiful, loving.  She completed my life.

So this Christmas, although there's lots of gifts going under our tree, I have the best gift ever.

Because I'm a mom.

PYHO: The Joy

Though the weather here in Chicago would lead one to believe otherwise, Christmas is a mere 11 days away. 

I've bought almost all my gifts.  We've started wrapping.  The decorations and tree have been up.

I see PJ's face light up every time he sees Santa.  I laugh when he turns our musical Santa on, and when I go to turn it off, he says "No. Bad Mama.  Santa on."

I can't help but smile at Maggie's excitement looking at the Christmas tree.  How she giggles and claps and bounces up and down.

The joy.  The joy of Christmas.

I'm about to be kind of rowdy here.

I'm so tired of the people who "hate" Christmas.  Who "dread" the holidays.  I'm not saying it's not stressful.  I'm not saying there's not drama to be had.  But hating it?  Hating what exactly?

Is it the shopping?  That's what the internet is for.  Is it the trying to figure out a gift?  Again, that's what the internet is for.  Is it because you don't want to deal with your family?  That's crap.

Now I realize some people have REALLY SHITTY FAMILIES.  However, I believe you are not stuck with the family you are born into.  If your blood family sucks, you're telling me there's no other family in your life? No friends?  No one that will bring joy to your holiday?

Having kids, Christmas is more joyful than ever.  I can hardly wait to see their faces light up Christmas morning, watch PJ tear through presents while Maggie plays with the paper.  I am excited to give John his gifts and to receive mine from him.  I'm looking forward to sitting on the floor and putting together toys and listening to Christmas music and just taking in the joy.

There are people who have almost nothing. People who have to rely on the donations of others to get gifts for their children.  And these people, these people who have all the right in the world to be angry at the world, aren't.  They experience the joy.

So I encourage you this Christmas to remember to experience the joy.  If you have children, to really take in and absorb the excitement on their faces.  The happiness, wonder, amazement they have when they first see your tree Christmas morning.  Maybe it will take you back to your childhood.  Maybe you can smile and know that they will be able to share this memory with your grandchildren one day.  And if you don't have kids, I hope you remember what it was like to be a kid.  I hope you can appreciate the day to be with the ones you love.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas.

PYHO: All I Want for Christmas

This year, by far, is the Christmas I have most looked forward to.

PJ knows who Santa is.  He knows what presents are, and he is starting to understand Christmas, and all that jazz.  He and Maggie love the Christmas tree.  We had so much fun Christmas shopping for them. I am sure we spent entirely too much, but I don't care.  I love them so much, I want to see their little faces light up, see how excited PJ is when he opens his new train, dinosaur, etc. Maggie's face when she sees her new Minnie Mouse doll that talks to her, her first dollhouse.

I look forward to getting up on Christmas morning and watchng my normally sleepy-eyed, take a few minutes to realize it's morning kids be just bundled in excitment and joy.

Nothing will replace their joy at that moment.

And yet, there is sadness over our Christmas.

This is our first Christmas without John's dad.  It's the last "first" holiday without him, as he's been gone almost a year.  Thanksgiving was rough.   Christmas will be harder.

Christmas with my parents is nothing like it used to be.  My mom always has gone nuts for Christmas.  Ridiculous amounts of presents.  Unfortunately, she got sick before she could have the joy of Christmas with her grandchildren.  She was already unable to wrap or shop like she normally would in 2009, PJ's first Christmas.

We used to go there on Christmas Eve, around 9, have a couple cocktails, some snacks, and open presents.  We'd laugh, and tell stories, and I'd hope upon hope she'd like whatever I got her that year.  John would be flabbergasted at the amount of gifts.  We'd leave around midnight, and she and my stepdad would finish open their gifts from each other.

It's much different now.  We'll be going there at 11 in the morning.  The kids will have gifts that I ordered for her.  We'll have some gifts, but probably most likely gift cards and/or cash.  I told her not to get us anything, but to no avail.  Money and buying us things is the only thing she has control over.   It would upset her if I asked her to stop.

All I want for Christmas is my mom to no longer be suffering.  I don't want  her to go through another month, week, day, hell another MINUTE living this hell on earth that she is enduring.  I can't get what I really want, which is her to be healthy.  So instead I want her to be at peace.

Those of you who have mothers that drive you crazy, or mothers who are making your holiday plans difficult, please stop.  Think.  I would give anything for my mom to be driving me crazy right now. I know it's easy to say this in my situation, but if my mom being well meant she had to drive me crazy every single day, I'd take it.

PYHO: Strong Enough

A friend sent me a message yesterday.

I just wanted to drop you a note & tell you I think you're one of the strongest people I've ever met. That is all. XOXO.

She had no idea how desperately I needed to hear that yesterday.

Even though I question it.

Am I strong?  A lot of people would say that I am.  And I, too, think I am strong.  I was forced to grow up quickly and before I should have. My childhood wasn't the best.  And as they say, what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.

But am I strong enough?

I've been strong through a lot of stuff.  Being strong through my mom's disease though, has made others notice.

Of course, John noticed me being strong through the other stuff.  But now others are noticing.

I am worried I won't be able to keep this strength till the end.  I am realistic now.  I am factual, clear-minded, and decisive.

But is this enough?

My best and oldest friend (we've been friends since we were 16, so come January I'll officially have known her half my life) insisted I would be. 

Because I'm a mother.

Becoming a mom changes things.  You can't stop being a mom.  You can't shut it off.  You can't stop giving hugs, or kissing boo-boos, or singing good night songs because something bad is happening. 

Especially when those little ones don't understand what's happening.

Especially when they know you are sad, and come over to you and pick your face up in your hands and give you a kiss.

So although my pain will be severe, although my grief will be unimaginable,  I will be strong enough.

Because of them.

..

PYHO: Four Years Ago....

Four years ago today...

I was getting ready.

To get married.

Today is our anniversary.  Today we celebrate the day we became one, vowed to love each other through it all, the good, the bad, the ugly.

There's been a lot of good.

There's been too much bad.

There's been some ugly.

Our wedding day was perfect.  Exactly what I wanted it to be.  Everyone had a great time.  The food was excellent, the music was good.  The ceremony was exactly what we wanted (17 minutes from start to finish!), everyone who mattered to us was there.

Every anniversary we dance to our song - Making Memories of Us by Keith Urban.

I would love to go back and live our wedding day.  It was such a wonderful day.  We had so much fun.

My mom danced with me.  She danced all night long. 

John's dad was so proud.  He cried during our vows, and he couldn't have been more thrilled.

Our wedding day.

Happy Anniversary Johnny.

PYHO: The Power of Prayer

I don't believe in God.

I went to a Catholic school for 13 years.  I had the Catholic religion shoved down my throat at every turn.

I think the Bible is a great story.  I mean, you have to be pretty creative to come up with it.

I have nothing against people who believe in God, who are devout Catholics, or even somewhat-practicing Catholics.  I have good friends that are very religious.  I have no problems with this.

I just don't feel that I need to go to a specific building to express my beliefs.  I believe in being a good person.  I believe there is something out there, something that created the world, created us, the animals, the beauty of nature.  I just don't believe in God/Jesus/etc.

We got married in a Chapel where God was not mentioned at all except perhaps maybe in passing.  PJ and Maggie were baptized at the same place; not because we believe in the "washing away original sin" idea, but because we wanted them to be able to choose, wanted them to have a ceremony where their godparents were honored, and wanted them to be able to get married in a Catholic Church if they so choose.

However, I find myself praying.  I don't know what or who I'm praying to.  I don't carve out time in a day to do it.  I'll just be sitting around and think

Please let this end soon.

I can't stand to see her like this anymore.

Please end the suffering.

When someone dies or is sick, I see many people say things like "I'll keep you in my prayers."  Me?

"I'll keep you in my thoughts."

And I do.  But I can't say prayers, because I don't have prayers.

But today, I ask you.

I ask you, if you pray, if you have prayers, to pray for an end.

Pray that my mom's suffering ends soon.

Pray that those who love her don't have to see her this way anymore.

Pray that I can finally finish mourning her.

PYHO: Empathy

I think that I am a very caring, sympathetic, and empathetic person.   I'll do anything for the people I care about.

But lately, (let's face it, for the past few years) I've found myself not being empathetic to people when they are seeking pity or are upset about a situation that they had control over.

I have a friend who desperately wants to become a mom.  She tried to get pregnant on her own.  She tried IUIs.  She's now doing IVF.  She had her egg retrieval and it wasn't as successful as it could be.  There's still a chance, but it's not the BEST it could be.

I feel terrible for her.  I feel terrible that someone who wants a child so badly, who deserves a child, who would be a wonderful mother, is having so much trouble. 

Then I have a friend - an old friend - who just had her second child (11.5 years after her first).  A friend who got pregnant on purpose with a boyfriend who didn't want kids, who refuses to accompany her to events like weddings, and who basically is doing nothing for the child.  She wanted to get pregnant because "all of us are getting pregnant and having babies."  This is NOT the reason to have a child.  I don't feel bad for her that he doesn't help, because she knew he wouldn't.  Do I think he's a douche bag?  Sure.  But I don't feel bad for her.

Some people aren't meant to be parents.  Some of these people know that and choose not to get pregnant and take steps to ensure there is no oops.  Some of these people keep having children, either because they are idiots that can't use birth control or because there is some other reason I can't fathom.

Some people think they aren't meant to be parents, then they have a child and can't believe they ever thought that.

I don't feel bad for my MIL because she didn't see her grandchildren on Halloween.  I don't feel bad when your grandchildren all live within 3 blocks of each other, were all together on Halloween, but you couldn't come by and see them because "it's too far to drive."  So we're supposed to load up our kids, in costume, on Halloween, so they miss trick or treating, because you are too lazy?  No thanks.

I feel bad that my parents didn't see their grandchildren on Halloween for obvious reasons.

So as I've gotten older, my empathy has become more selective.  Or maybe, I just am tired of people's bullshit.

PYHO: Cruel and Unusual Punishment

I read something on Facebook the other day.  It was something along the lines of "I pretend to sympathize with my friends when they complain about fighting with their mothers, when I wish I had a mother around to fight with."

Technically, my mother is still here.

Well, her body is.

I would give ANYTHING to have an argument with her.  To get exasperated with her, to complain to John about how annoying she is.

I'd give anything to call her and tell her that PJ said water last night.

I'd give anything to have her come over Saturday night to baby-sit.

I'd give anything to have her sign my birthday card.  Or come to my kids' birthday parties.  Or send me an email. 

To hear her say she loves me.

To have her hug me back.

To have a girls day where we go to lunch, and to the spa, and shopping.

To have her make me egg salad.

I wish she knew that PJ loves bananas.

I wish she knew that Maggie loves grapes.

I wish she knew that PJ loves Buzz, Cars, trains, and dinosaurs.

I wish she knew that Maggie says hi, bye, ma, da, and mine.

I wish I would have known sooner that the last years she'd be alive would be cruel and unrelentless.  That they would consist of her being trapped in a body that doesn't work, unable to speak, eat, move or enjoy any part of life.

I wish I could bring myself to go see her more.  I wish it didn't make me so depressed, so sad, so helpless that I would rather not see her.

I wish I could help my stepdad.  He is overwhelmed.  He won't get hospice since she won't accept that she needs it.  I worry everyday something would happen to him.

I wish she would die so I could finish mourning her properly.  So she could no longer be in pain.  Be suffering be miserable.

It's the worst disease I've ever seen.  It's cruel and heartless.  It affects not only the patient, but everyone who loves them.

Every time I see her, she has withered away a little more.  And every time I see her, I think it can not be possible for her to look or get worse.  And I am proven wrong every time.

PYHO: One and Only

I have two amazing children.  I have a fantastic husband.

Sometimes we need help.

Last night, John had to go to the ER.  He's doing fine -- he was having some severe pain and it was very concerning, so we went in and although he's still in pain, he's got pain meds and we're waiting for some test results to see if it's an infection.

Anyway.  Obviously I couldn't bring PJ and Maggie to the hospital with me.  So we had to ask my sister-in-law.

She came over right from work.  She didn't go home to see her OWN children.  To eat some dinner.  To change her clothes.

She came over immediately.  Our nephew came by to play with PJ for a little while.

She put my kids to sleep and waited for us to get home at nearly 11:00 last night.

She did it without thinking about it, without hesitation.

I felt bad though.  Not being able to go home and see her kids after working all day.  Not being able to eat dinner.  John kept telling me not to feel bad, that she's his sister, that we'd do the same for her.  And of course we would.  But....

I'm an only child.

I've never known the closeness of a sibling, the rivalry, the love, the fun, the fighting, the teasing.  It was always just me.

And as much as my SIL is a sister to me -- she really is, and I've told her so -- I've only had said "sister" for about six years.

Not my entire life.

I saw them lean on each other when their dad died.  I found myself wishing I'd have someone like that to lean on when my mom dies.  Someone who shared her as their mom.  Someone who I could talk about childhood memories with.

I have none of that.  It's just me.  I don't even have a father to share my first eight years of life memories with because my biological father is a loser and I haven't seen and/or spoken to him in 14 years.  My stepdad, as amazing as he is, wasn't part of my life till I was 8.  And even then, not so much because I had a hard time accepting him till I was much older.

I knew early on in life that I would not have only one child.  That I wouldn't subject my first born to the loneliness that I experienced -- sure, being an only child does have some perks -- but I longed for that playmate on a rainy day.  Or someone to sneak out to the living room and watch movies with.  Someone who I could talk to, joke with, laugh with.

Someone who would understand what it was like to lose my mom to a terrible disease, and not have her be able to be the Grandma she always dreamed of being.

I am so grateful that PJ and Maggie will always have each other.  I know they will fight, not get along, go through periods where they just can't stand each other.  But I also know that when they are adults, they will have each other.  And that is so comforting.

So to my SIL, who will never read this, thank you.  Thank you for being the sister I always wanted but never had.

PYHO: Time is not on my side

Time.

It's fickle.

When you would do anything for time to pass by quickly, like at work, it takes forever.

When you would do anything for time to slow down, stop moving so fast, it's gone in the blink of an eye.

I don't have enough time.

I spend 10 hours of my day commuting to/from and being at work.  I spend one hour in the morning (less, because the kids sleep later than I do) with PJ and Maggie, and 2-4 hours with them at night.

Because spending time with them is the most important and best thing I do with my day, I run out of time to do other things. 

Dishes.

Shave my legs.

Clean.

Watch tv.

I'm not complaining.  I would much rather hang out with them than do any of those things.  I just wish I had TIME to do them as well.

I wish I had time to get everything I need for Maggie's party, without the kids, in a matter of hours instead of splitting it up over a few days because that's the only way it will work.

I wish I had time to go visit two of my oldest friends who gave birth over the weekend, and meet their new joys and see them.

I wish I had time to go back and have more mother-daughter dates with my mom before she got sick.

I wish I had time to go out for dinner on a random Tuesday with my girlfriends.

I wish I had time to go out for drinks on a random Thursday with my husband.

Time is not your friend.  No matter what, when you look at any given day, you can say "I can't believe that was XX years ago, or I can't believe he's already XX years old."

I said that when PJ was 1.  Now I'll say it again because he's almost 3.

I said it on Monday when Maggie turned 1. I said it when she was 6 months.

I need to embrace the time.  Make the most of the time I have and do whatever I can to make my kids, my husband and me happy in that time.

Yesterday is History...Tomorrow is a Mystery...Today is a Gift

PYHO: I'm lucky

The past few days, a no-reply commenter (have I ever expressed how much I HATE THIS?) has left some negative comments about John on my posts.  About things I suspect MOST husbands/men do. 

I suspect this person is actually someone who knows me and is posting under a different name because she's, well, a pathological liar.  But I digress.

Her comments prompted THIS post.  So in a way, I say thanks, "Josie."

My marriage is not perfect.  I posted about how tough marriage can be in a previous PYHO. 

But I am lucky.

Besides the fact that my husband loves me unconditionally, besides that he deals with my constant craziness, besides that he forgives me over and over again for doing things he continually has asked me not to.

He's my best friend.  He's my biggest supporter, my biggest cheerleader, the shoulder I cry on.

He's the one who makes me laugh the hardest.  He knows me better than anyone esle.

He's a phenomenal father.

He would do anything for me, PJ, or Maggie.

He'd stop at nothing to protect us.

He's extremely thoughtful.  Yesterday was my birthday.  My gift?  A beautiful necklace, in the shape of a daisy (my favorite flower).  The center is an opal, for Maggie's birthstone, and the petals around are Aquamarine, for PJ's.

So because jokingly says PJ shouldn't be playing with Maggie's dolls, or that Maggie shouldn't wear a bikini (although he's not joking about this, and really, the regular two piece bathing suits are JUST as adorable), that doesn't make him a jerk. Or outdated.

It makes him a father.

A loving, caring, would do anything for his kids, wants to protect them from any harm, wonderful Daddy.

So when you want to post something negative about my husband in your comments, but refuse to have the balls to allow me to reply, you go ahead.

Because I have married my best friend and the greatest father my kids could ever have.   And I bet you can't say the same.

PYHO: The Blame Game

Blame.

Some people need to assess it.

For everything.

Someone very close to me (ahem, my husband) is one of those people.  And unfortunately, the blame is usually put on me.  Although he'll never admit that.  Although he'll say he is at fault for a lot of stuff.

I don't like to assess blame.  It usually doesn't solve anything or make anything better.  I've found that just admitting to whatever it was achieves much more than getting blamed for it.

Getting blamed makes you defensive.  Sad.  Upset.  Mean.  Maybe even bitchy.

You automatically shift to "why is this MY fault" even if it clearly is.

Because you were blamed for it.

Sometimes, I blame myself for stuff.

I blame myself for us being stuck in our crappy house.  I think that if I only hadn't bought this house when the mortgage bubble was going on, if I had only broken up with the asshole ex sooner, we could have bought the house we wanted instead of being stuck in this old house.

But we have a house. 

A three bedroom house, so each of our kids has their own room.  And yes our kitchen and bathrom are the smallest known to man, but we have a house.  The house our kids are growing up in.  It's not the house they'll finish growing up in (because we WILL move, dammit) but it's the first house they'll call home. It's the first place they slept after they were born.  And it's a house.

I blame myself for my ridiculous amount of student loan debt.  I mean it's fucking ATROCIOUS.

But most of it got me the job I have today.  And I swear, once we move and don't need credit for anything else, I'm just gonna stop paying those fuckers and let my credit go to shit.  We have no credit card debt and no auto debt, and we plan to keep it that way.   We'll pay for our cars outright, and continue to use a credit cards for everything and pay it off each month.

But what good is it.  I can't change these things, so I might as well stop beating myself up about it.

Blaming does no good.  It causes resentment, hurt feelings.  It makes a bad situation worse and can turn a good situation bad. 

I wish I could just convince my husband.