Well, first of all, I’d like to be alive in 10 years.  That’d be a good place to start.

I still want to be married to – and in love with – Allan.

I want two happy, healthy children.

I want Murphy to still be here.

I’d like for there to be more trees and flowers in our yard.

A master’s degree would be nice.  So would a trip to Paris.

I’d like to have a limited number of wrinkles.

Mainly, I want Allan and healthy kids.  That’s good enough for the next 10, 20, 30… years.

 


A friend of mine sent me a pin (oh, Pintrest, you pain in the ass) with a 30 day blogging/writing challenge and I’ve decided to give it a go.

I know the ideal start date for this challenge would be January 1, but I’ll likely forget it by then, so I’ll just go ahead and start today.

Describe your current relationship

I’m assuming this means romantic relationship… My current relationship is with Allan.

We’ve been together for nearly five years(!!) and married for 3.  We were friends for years and years before we started dating. Evidently he was in love with me for quite a few of those years, but I had no idea.  It was sort of like a romantic comedy.

Once we started dating, we put our relationship in fast forward mode and were married 18 months after we got together.

Our relationship is remarkably healthy and happy.  I dare say we’re still in love with each other.  We don’t have many trivial things in common,  but our life goals are totally in sync.  He likes to play soccer and climb rocks, and I like to shop and watch tv, but we make it work.

He is a true partner in life and parenthood.  He is as hands on with Charlotte as I am.

Allan loves me.  He loves me and doesn’t try to change me.  The love he has for me, just as I am, has given me more confidence than I’ve ever had before.  He makes me feel safe.

There are no words for how much I love him.

He is, quite simply, the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

 


Six months of tears (hers and mine)

Six months of dirty diapers

Six months of filling bottles

Six months of cleaning bottles

Six months of small victories

Six months of smiles

Six months of baths

Six months of tummy time

Six months of squeals

Six months of snuggles

Six months of kisses

Six months of joy

Six months of love


While at Allan’s grandparents’ house yesterday – Christmas – Charlotte took a nap and I tried to take a photo of me and my husband, which my husband hates.

While trying to get a shot in which neither of us looked like complete goobers, I noticed that sunlight was filtering through the window to my right, and it made rainbows in the air.  And I managed to capture those rainbows in two pictures, one of which I posted to Instagram.

I’m going to suspend reality for a minute and pretend that those rainbows, those reflections of light, were my loved ones who aren’t here, those loved ones who I miss so much, especially at Christmas.

Christmas magic:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Christmas goobers:

 


I started to write a post about Christmas, and about how much I miss my family, and how much I miss my grandparents, but then I started to cry.  And I cried and I cried and I cried.

So I deleted the post.

I miss my family.  This is my first year with no grandparents, and I feel the loss.  And I wish, more than anything, Charlotte could have the same kind of beautiful, warm, family memories that I have, and I’m so sad that it’s not going to happen.

My family, though – my sweet little family – is such a gift.

Merry Christmas.


We’re getting a fake Christmas tree.  Well, we actually already got one.  It’s in its box next to the couch, waiting to be put together, which may happen this Christmas.  Or maybe not.

I never thought I’d have one of those giant, plastic trees in my house.  But I also never thought I’d have a baby, either.

We’ve replaced the beautiful, fresh scent of pine with a tree whose needles don’t shed.

They were 50% off at Target and we figured if we use it until Charlotte and Hypothetical Baby #2 are in elementary school, then we’ve paid maybe $12 a year for it.

Right now we keep Charlotte alive.  We keep Murphy alive.  We keep ourselves alive.  And we have a handful of plants scattered around the house that are barely hanging on by a limb.  Pun intended.

Basically it boils down to this: we don’t want to work to keep anything else alive right now.  We’re maxed out on the whole sustaining life thing.

This isn’t what I want to write about, though.  I want to vent.  I want to talk about the weight on my head and heart right now.  I want to talk about my anger and my frustration and the little bit of shame I feel, though I shouldn’t feel any shame at all.

I’ve been wounded by someone unexpected, someone who claims not to read this blog, but whose claims I don’t entirely trust.  Someone who I’ve asked to not read this blog.

The circumstances in which I was raised have made me a lesser parent.  Because I was a poor kid for the bulk of my childhood, I don’t know how to properly appreciate and care for things, including my own baby.

This is what I’ve been told, anyway.

This is what I’m dealing with.

Merry Christmas, right?