2017 Taught Me...

Happy New Year's Eve!

2017 was a lot of things to so many of us, but regardless of how we feel about the year, here we are. We made it. We're making it. We've survived the worst days and soaked up the best days. And for that, I'm grateful.

I started the year off working on getting Aiden to be whole and making sure that everything is in place to help him be successful. That meant including a family therapist and psychiatrist to our village.

Then I took some time to reset and work on myself. I started individual therapy again and I'm happy to report that I've gone faithfully every week (except when one of us were out of town).

I've put in a lot of work and spent a lot of time getting to know (re-know) myself this year and I've learned so much about what I need to feel grounded and good and loved and... whole.

In 2018, I plan on holding on to that.

I moved in with HEB and learned that home decor is kinda my thing. I'm slowly fixing up (see what I did there?) every room of this apartment to make it look fly. I love that I'm flexing these creative muscles in ways that I never knew I could and I'm living it up as the Property Sistah (see what I did there?).

I've learned so much this year and I'm grateful for all the things 2017 taught me. Like...

To show up for myself. Always. In all ways. Because no one else is responsible for putting mr first except me.

To continue to find my happy place and fight like hell to stay in that place. Because no one else is responsible for making me happy except me.

To do more of the things that I actually want to do. And less of the things that I don't want to do.

To remember that "No." is a complete sentence. No explanations needed. "No." would suffice.

To fear less and to be fearless.

To stretch myself in ways that I never thought possible.

But to know my limits and to know when to say when. (I'm only human and, sometimes, I need to take breaks. And that's quite alright.)

To apologize when I've made a mistake.

But to be unapologetic when I know that I'm doing what's right for myself and for my children.

To continue to be resilient in love and life. And to keep going through life with equal parts grit and glitter.

Here's to more blessings, more lessons, more time with friends and family, more adventures, more healing, and more love.

Just... more!

Here's to more life in 2018.

Onward!

Oh Twodles: Celebrating Two Years of August

Bubbles Galore!

I've been Mommy Delicious times two... for two years, y'all!

Last weekend, we celebrated August's 2nd birthday with his favorite character in the world -- Mickey Mouse! I've been all in my feels these past two weeks because I can't believe that I've kept the boys alive and safe and well and... happy! It's hard going from one to two kids because, like, they both have needs.

All the time.

At the same time.

And it's my job to show up and show out and make sure that they're needs are met.

I'm happy to report that, even with bumps along the way, I've been able to rock it out these past two years. Needless to say, it wasn't just a celebration of August and his awesomeness, it was a celebration for the entire family.

#bros 

We gathered some friends and headed to The Little Gym on the UWS, where the kids were able to run, jump, play, and flip out. Literally. The best part was seeing everyone love up on August.

A great time was had by all... especially my little Mickey obsessed toddler!

And because I'm obsessed with giving you the non-Instagram-worthy-highlight-reels version of events: Some folks cancelled either because of the snow or cold weather or life in general; We ordered way too much food and I've been eating the leftovers for lunch all week because I refuse to waste the money spent (silver lining?); At first, August was super scared of all the equipment overwhelmed by everything and super clingy to me, which, as you can imagine, was stressful; And I felt like I could have just bought a doggone bubble machine, set up shop in my living room, and watched as the little boy went to town with them because he basically played with bubbles the entire time. #ImJustSaying

Fantasy is what you want, but reality is what you need. #YeahISaidIt

And, of course, we all wore Mickey t-shirts. Because, why not?!

Happy birthday to my baby boy! Mommy super loves you!

{Relationship Stories} Making Adjustments

Me: Wanna know the difference between me and you? I came home, picked August up from daycare, stopped at the store to pick up more garbage bags and paper towels before coming home, came home, made dinner the kids, did August’s laundry, folded them, put them away, fed August, gave him a bathe, and got him ready for bed, read with Aiden, and hung up the pictures in the living room. You came home from work and watched TV on the bed while eating chips. You only went to the store after I asked you to buy a new pacifier for August. I’m tired too. You could have helped me with something. 

HEB: Or… you could have asked me to help. 

Me (In my head): This !@#$ing a—hole! Did he really just say that to me? What the entire f@#k?! 

Me (out loud): Or… you could have gotten off your ass and actually helped me?

HEB and I officially moved in together a few months ago after unofficially living together for the past few years. As in, both of our names are on the lease. As in, “oh crap! It just got real.” As in, he can’t go home when he needs time to himself and I can’t ask him to go home when I need space. As in, we’re in the same space. All. The Time. 24 hours a day. 7 days a week.

Needless to say, we’ve been making adjustments. I’ve been making adjustments. Not only on the space itself by getting my Fixer-Upper-meets-Property-Brothers-meets-House-Hunters-Renovations on (check out my upgrades to the boys’ bedroom and stay tuned for more updates!), but also on myself. And my expectations for what it means to live with another adult. Again.

It’s been… interesting.

Right in the thick of love
At times we get sick of love…

Here’s the thing: it’s not all cuddles on the couch while watching Love Jones and creating our own love jones story. It’s not all family game night and everyone playing nicely and eating ice cream and popcorn from the same container. It’s not all peaches and cream. (What up, 112?)

It’s messy. And sloppy.

Literally. Because he's really sloppy and he doesn’t clean up after himself. Still.

It’s going back and forth about who is more tired and who is going to go over the boys’ room in the middle of the night when August wakes up crying. It’s figuring out the division of labor and making sure that it’s “fair.”

It’s him drinking out of the juice bottle instead of pouring the damn thing in a glass and me getting upset about it. Again.

Another again.

It’s him telling me that I’m upset over one “little” thing and me explaining that I’m actually annoyed over 15 different little things that actually adds up to one big thing.

Again.

It’s not talking to each other or not listening to each other or not talking to each other in a way that the other person will understand it and receive it. It’s figuring out communication styles and then coming back to the drawing board because we just gotta get this thing right.

It’s… hard.

I know I misbehaved and you made your mistakes
And we both still got room left to grow…

It’s passionate arguments and going to our separate corners and coming back to the drawing board. Again.

Another again.

It’s happiness and frustration. And intimacy and loneliness. And pettiness and growth. Lots of personal growth. It’s… making adjustments.

And you know what? Sometimes it is peaches and cream and hugs and snuggles and speaking each other’s love language.

And that makes it all worth it.