Welcome Home

Good morning, Dear Reader. It's been entirely too long since I've posted anything. Partly because I haven't had any inspiration, but mostly because I have been extremely busy. I'm not entirely certain where I left you, but let me catch you up. Robbie's father and I split up, I met a wonderful man named Zach, got a promotion at Panera, left Panera for a job with a credit union, got married and pregnant, got a promotion at the credit union, moved to be closer to work, and now we're two months out from my our son, Josiah, being born.

I've crammed what normal people go through in the span of like five years into roughly a year, give or take a few months.

And I couldn't be happier. I find myself thanking God daily that so much changed so quickly. No, it isn't easy by any means. Zach and I struggle daily, but I've finally found someone who knows how to handle just how neurotic I am. We actually talk about our issues, usually before they become an issue, and he loves me. He truly loves Alex and all that happens in Alexland.

Plus he is so damn handsome and he enjoys energy drinks just as much as I do. It was destiny.

Seriously though, my life has dramatically changed for the better. My credit score couldn't be worse, but my finances are stable. I'm not in constant danger of my home being ripped away from me. My daughter gained an amazing father who is kind and patient and learned all of the names of the ponies in Equestria because she loves My Little Pony. I'm excited about having another baby (and maybe one or two more in the future) even though I swore I would never have anymore kids after Robbie was born. The in-laws I gained absolutely bend over backwards to help us if and when we need it, especially my mother in law. I don't know how she puts up with us.

And it's football season. *PISTOLS FIRING!*

For the first time in my adult life, I feel that life is beautiful. How can one person be so blessed?

Kids Suck.

I know, I know, I'm posting later than I usually do. Sorry about that. I have a legit reason though. I usually write/edit on Sunday afternoons, because I'm typically off work. But I wasn't off yesterday. And I'm not sure if it's allergies or a cold, but I started feeling terrible Saturday, so after work yesterday I sat under my heated blanket on the couch and re-watched Making A Murderer.

Can you forgive me? I promise next week I will post on time!

Anyway, I'm watching my kiddo run around the living room, and I keep having this vision of the weird kid at school who runs everywhere...and they run really funny. That is probably Robbie's future, unfortunately. Her dad claims to have been the weird kid, and he is not athletic. I was just generally disliked. I wan't weird, and I was pretty athletic, but I just didn't fit in. Not that I cared, I was too busy listening to the most emo music possible while smearing eyeliner all over my face and spiking up my boy short hair in an attempt to look as "punk" as possible.

I actually looked pretty cute with spikey hair. Just in case you were wondering. And I was a total bad ass.

Anyway I'm telling you all of this is because I was reminded of just how hard school actually was for me, and I hope my daughter has an easier time than I did.

Kids are total assholes, did you know that? I was bullied left and right from elementary all the way up to graduation. In eighth grade, a kid pantsed me in the hallway while I was stapling stuff up on a wall. It was embarrassing, only for the fact that I totally was wearing a thong, and it had been revealed to everyone. My bad reputation was solidified.

*Intercom comes on "That's right classmates, Alex Jones is a confirmed delinquent. SHE WEARS THONGS."* Que the pearl clutching and shocked/distraught gasps.

Thankfully no one, but the jack ass who pantsed me, thought it was funny. Although I'm sure if any of you who witnessed this incident are reading, you're laughing hysterically.

Stop laughing. It still isn't funny.

Okay, maybe it's a little funny now.

In a high school English class, a girl told me how I was single handedly responsible for creating some guy's reputation as a "male slut". I swiftly replied how it was ironic that her family could afford to buy anything they wished for, but they chose not to buy her liposuction after she got fat.

I was the asshole there, and so was everyone else in the class, because they all laughed.

My point is, kids are such jerks, and I'm kind of horrified at what my daughter's future could be like. I know it is many years down the road, but how do I prepare for all the crap she might face? Do I just keep hoping that Robbie will be well liked, a good student, and a nice person? This parenting gig has some really rough stuff you have to deal with, and I often wonder if I will make enough good calls to lead her down a happy, successful road.

I guess we will see what happens, right?

Mom: Why We Love Her.

My mother is pretty cool. She raised three kids completely on her own, is obsessed with health and fitness, teaches Zumba, runs half marathons and 5ks, and places in the top three at the 5ks, has a huge knowledge for crap no one cares about (this must be where I got that talent from), is a gifted writer, is always open to offer up advice about anything, and is the grandmother who sends cards/candy/loud toys to her grandchildren at every holiday because she's out to spoil the kids and drive the parents nuts.

That's a big list of cool stuff to love her for, but that's not even the tip of the iceberg.

This past Thursday was my mom's 58th birthday. It was a good day, but at the same time it was particularly rough. My newest niece was born (that's a good part, obviously), but my grandfather was in the hospital, preparing for a surgery that could have very well ended his life, and then we ate at a Mexican joint that didn't serve margaritas. Terrible, how can you eat fajitas and not wash them down with tequila?! Anyway.

My mom, being herself, had to be everywhere at once. So off to see my brother and his family, we went. She never once let on how stressed she really was, or how she, along with everyone else, was a ball of nerves about Pa's surgery. No, instead she smiled, laughed, took a gazillion pictures, and carried on. She did the same thing, minus the pictures, when we visited Pa. 

On her feet, my Ma is admittedly, not always graceful, just watch her two step after three margaritas and a beer, but that day, she handled EVERYTHING with a grace and strength that can't be taught. Way to go Mom.

The next day was the old man's surgery. And again, everyone else had fear written all over them, but Mom on the other hand, just did her usual; handled all this business, asked questions, went with Pa to pre-op, and did it all without even a ripple in her sea of poise. I don't know how she does it. I sat there next to her just waiting, fidgeting, talking way too much and too fast, and she was calm. 

We love Ma for this. She's the glue that holds our family together. My Grandma passed that position down to my Mom many years ago, and it's a position that fits her well.

Of course there are many other things Madre is special for. For instance, her Adam Sandler version of Good King Winseslas that stops my kid from crying every time, or the rocking chair she let me borrow, that she rocked my brothers and myself in, her homemade chicken and dumplings when I catch a cold (yes 23 years old and Mommy still makes me something to eat when I'm sick), or how she remembers EVERY.LITTLE.THING. the grand kids tell her, and she buys them gifts based on what they told her. She still goes to every ball game and event she can make it to that the grand kids have. She takes amazing care of my Grandpa, her dad, which is hard because he doesn't complain unless he's starving. And the list STILL goes on.

My point for this post is, all moms are special to their families, they/we all bend over backwards at times to take care of everything, but no one has a mom like mine. Mine does it all for everyone. Always has. I know one day she'll tire of being the old bottle of Elmer's and it will be my turn, I just hope I can do half as well as she has. 

It's Only Bed Time!! These Tears Aren't Needed!! Part 2. The Mom Cryer.

Tonight's bed time was exceptionally cry-y (I couldn't think of any real adjectives to fit the situation, so made one.) Typically after I take the baby out of the bath, she cries for a little bit, (This kid LOVES bath time.), and as usual she cried some. But shortly after she calmed down, the dam broke, and dear old mom here just lost it.

It's been an emotionally charged month. Especially the last two weeks. Lots have happened, and then today we had a great event, it was my mama's birthday, and my newest niece was born late this afternoon. (By the way Baby J, the new little, is cuuuttteeee! I'm so excited!)

Seeing this new little teeny tiny made me realize how big my little teeny tiny is, and how small she was. Since she was born I have reminded myself daily to take it all in, to cherish these little times because it will go fast. Thankfully I can enjoy it to the fullest because I'm one of the few lucky moms who get to be home with their babies. But it just seems like I closed my eyes, two months passed, and now there's this big little girl with a head full of hair and the brightest smile, and I just don't know where the time went.

It all just hit me at once. I had rocked her, laid her in her crib, because I thought she was sleepy, then her pretty eyes sprang open, and the smiles and cooing started. I'm not sure what she was telling me about, but she was pretty excited. This is when I started crying.

I think she knew I wasn't really sad, just a little nostalgic, grateful, and a little stressed. So, as if to say something along the lines of "It's okay Mommy, I love you. I'll always be your baby." she gave me a big smile, a few more coos and then snuggled in to sleep.

I really didn't want to leave her side. I wanted her to keep telling me all about it. And I did stand there for a few more minutes and listened to her, but I knew it was bed time and she was clearly fighting sleep. So I turned the light off and stood in her doorway, and she talked for a few more minutes, then sighed really big and was asleep. This made me cry even more. I just love her to pieces.

This kid, she melts my heart. I never really wanted to be a mom, but then baby happened, and man, my life is 1000% fuller and happier with her here. 

I know children aren't for everyone, so I won't say that life really starts when you have kids. But, if you do have babies or will eventually, just remember to hold them tight, give them lots of love and kisses, but don't spoil them, and above all else remember that time goes so fast. So fast, that sometimes you just need to be the mom who stands in their bedroom doorway and cries about how much they love their sweet little miracle.

Becoming A Mom.

Most moms will say that their kids are the best things to happen to them. While some truly mean it, some really don't. For me, it's true my daughter coming into this world was the best thing that could happen.

Having a baby meant becoming a mom. That's not a title everyone deserves. There are women out there who are just worthless, and should not be having kids. I thought I was one of those people. 

Not because I don't care, or am lazy, or some nut job, but because I was selfish, obsessed with structure and control, and while I enjoy a good thrill, the anxiety that went with something new kept me from doing many things I wanted to do. Above all I didn't believe I had the capacity to love myself, much less a child.

Then along came Robbie Jo.

This little girl has changed me. While I'm still very selfish, I willing put her and her needs before me, like a mother should. There are many times I find myself googling all the ways to help her grow and life hacks for motherhood. I still have a need for structure, but control is now a distant, dark memory. It is no longer planning every second of every day and trying but failing to handle my life and emotions. Instead it has become order; aligning myself, my finances, my career goals. I am finding order goes with structure, much better than control ever did. I don't fear the world around me anymore. I am not scared of stepping out of my comfort zone, or the initial stress that comes with all the dreams I've always wanted to chase. But the biggest, most important change is love. 

I had never viewed myself in a positive light. She did away with that. The image I had in my head of my life, and my physical self was negative. But stretch marks, and tiny hands and feet made me realize that it's okay that I didn't go to college right out of high school, any mistakes I made in my past were just that, my past, and being a size 2 isn't going to make me happy.

Opening up my heart to myself made room for my baby and gave me the ability to grow as a person, and a mom. I know I am not done changing, that I will continue to shift and move as she and I both get older, I am ready for it, when the time comes. And one day, when she's old enough to understand, I'll tell her how she changed me and my life for the better. 

Music To My Ears...sort of.

So today I had to take a long trek across the great wide state highway with the baby. She did well in the car, but I had a thought as I jammed out to Sia's "Chandelier" and Gemini Syndrome's "Stardust" back to back for the gabillionth time, because that's apparently all Sirius felt like playing on Hits and Octane today.

Is this really the crap I want my kid to grow up on? Songs by a creepy looking possibly albino guy who's live show, was not that impressive, (he really is creepy looking, YouTube, Gemini Syndrome, look it up.) and some about swinging from chandeliers and the lyrics sound as though some one doesn't know what number comes after three?

But it gets better. All of this was followed by, dun dun dun, freaking Jason Derulo. *insert eye roll/face palm here* If you know me, you know I'm no fan of Jason and his songs about trumpets and ham sammiches. I don't like ham sammiches. Maybe if his songs were about tuna salad sammiches, or a philly steak sammy, I'd be a fan.

Anyway, I started wondering, what happened to the days of good music? By good I mean mostly clean, and not saying things like "Disregard females, acquire currency.", except with the f-bomb, and the B word, *Thank you Paige, for that one*, and no auto tune or reverb. Ya know, when you actually had to sing.

Then my thought got deeper.

What if she doesn't like all the classic rock/country/pop/heavy metal/show tunes/Elvis that I listen to? What if one day she tells me "Mom, Led Zeppelin sucks, and Conway Twitty is lame. I will only listen to the Billboard hits, and HipHop Nation on Sirius. By the way Five Finger Death Punch is a stupid band name." What do I do then?! Just let her listen junk about twerking on table tops and driving cars with names that I can't even spell? Or worse. What if she likes Steel Panther? =|. (YouTube Steel Panther, your ears will bleed, and you'll be offended, but you'll get my point.)

This is a real concern. I love music, and I want her to love music too, just not the crap that is, well, crap. I'm trying to educate her young, but she already hates show tunes, so I think this ship was doomed to sink from the beginning. Who doesn't live show tunes? Is this kid even human?

Now I know how my mom felt when I made her listen to all my "noise". And my kid isn't old enough to listen to "noise" yet...Lord help me, my ears hurt already.