Posts Tagged With: love

a dollie crib for Baby K

I finished the dollie crib for Baby K!

When it was mine it was a sort of green leaning aqua color with animal decals.
I painted it purple and added the wooden hearts for Thing 1.
Since Baby K doesn’t have a favorite color yet, I chose two soft coral colors hoping she’ll like them.

First, I took it completely apart and sanded it. Then I used wood glue to ensure it went back together properly before prepping it for paint.

I finished painting it Friday.
(you can see where even with sanding it well, the decals and where the hearts were attached were problematic)

I put it back together Saturday.

YBW had a piece for the bottom that became exactly what was needed with a little reinforcement.
I cut foam to the perfect fit for the crib mattress.
Went to Target Sunday afternoon for a pillow case to cover the foam mattress.
(WTF was I thinking going anywhere on the weekend in these mask-wearing-pandemic times? Target was straight chaos. For a bit longer, I will only go public places during the week.)

Anyway, we had fun reimagining this little doll bed for Baby K.
Now it’s in her room, and ready for her to put her dollies in when she gets here.
Three weeks from today!

Categories: around the house | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

my truth is self evident

I spent time with both my girls over the past ten days.
I went to Thing 1’s to help pack, and play with Baby K. She calls me “Baduh”and is an excellent snuggler. She loves books and blocks and wandering around her house ‘talking’ just to hear the sound of her own voice.
Thing 1 and I packed so much! There is precious little for her to pack and she has the next six weeks to do it. Mostly kitchen things they need to use every day between now and then and clothes. I brought with me most of Baby K’s toys and books, all Thing 1 and Husband N’s winter clothes and some other things they could part with in the meantime.

On the way back to VA, I stopped to see Thing 2.
We had a mini-girlie hotel weekend in which we snuggled and watched movies, ate a boat load of queso at our favorite Mexican place, and I met the young man she’s started seeing over Sunday morning brunch.
We were worried it wouldn’t feel like we had enough time, but it was perfect!
Returning to this house, I’m sad and disappointed to be apart from them.

I’m frustrated and disappointed to be here.
I don’t actually realize how miserable I am living here with my husband and his son until I’m away and return.
Turning onto our street made me anxious and angry.
I keep trying to figure out how it works when you love someone so much yet are so damn miserable at the same time.

When I’m away from this house I’m content. When I’m out and about with my husband I’m content.
The energy that surrounds my husband’s son is stagnant and putrid and poisons this entire household.
I’m so tired of feeling like I don’t have a say.
I’ve worked so desperately to accept this situation that I can’t change. And I can, for a while…
I can complain until I’m blue in the face and nothing changes. I’m so fucking tired of being trapped in a situation I didn’t create. I’m so fucking tired of being in a situation in which I’m powerless.
My life is being decided by a twenty year old man-child who refuses to make any personal decisions.
My husband expects his son to make life decisions, but the kid simply doesn’t have the skills to do that.
So we wait.
And we wait.

I feel like Sirius Black.

How much longer do I wait?
Well, now I have to at least wait until Husband N has a job and he and Thing 1 can buy a house.

I feel like I was promised one thing and received another.
I feel deceived.
I feel disappointed and let down.
What’s so awful about these feelings is that the actions didn’t come purposefully and with malice. The actions are a by-product of the way my husband and his family have functioned these past twenty years.
I believe he has every intention of fulfilling his promises he made when we began our relationship. But he won’t do them until he finishes fulfilling his promise to ‘take care‘ of his son.
The truth of the matter is he’ll never finish fulfilling the promise to take care of his son because his son never learned how to take care of himself. So he remains obligated to take care of him.
These promises don’t have to be mutually exclusive.
Yet here we are.

I’m finished being miserable.
I’m finished accommodating my husband’s son.
I’m finished accommodating my husband’s decisions.
Instead of being trapped waiting for other people to make changes, I can make changes that benefit me without negatively impacting others.
I’m finished playing by rules I didn’t have a voice in writing.
I’m finished participating in a life I didn’t actually agree to.

My husband reads my blog.
This will be so hurtful to him.
That’s not my intention. I’m just too tired to play the game anymore.
I don’t believe either of us truly understands how much we love each other because there’s always some sort of drama clouding everything up.

This whole post may seem petulant.
May seem like I’m being petty and uncaring.
May even seem like I’m the queen of the haters.
I don’t hate. I simply can no longer live the way my husband chooses to live.

This is actually a declaration.
My truths are self evident.

I need to help myself, because I can’t help my husband or his son. They can choose to swim around in their dysfunction. I’m getting out of the pool. I can’t tread that water anymore.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

accentuate the positive (and weird)

Y’all, my husband is a precious man.
I mean a truly precious man.
When he asked about my day and I told him I was feeling a way (mood) he began suggesting things he could do to help. From providing me with things to keep me occupied, (things he knew I didn’t really want to do) to coming up with things he could do to be helpful.
When I told him I appreciate him trying to help make it better, but I didn’t need him to fix it. He told me knew that, but he wants to help fix it because he loves me. And I honestly couldn’t argue with that.

We talked about me going to Thing 1’s. He inquired about girlie hotel weekend with Thing 2. She’s on the way regardless of which direction I’m heading.
This man is over here like, I can’t make it better for you, but if being with one or both of your girls will, I can make that happen.

He’s been very clear during the pandemic about how he understands his life is much more normal than most of the rest of us. He goes to work every day every other week, so those weeks feel normal. He gets out. He sees people. He gets do do the work he loves doing.
And I know how lucky we are!
We aren’t worried about how to pay the mortgage, or feed ourselves, or whether or not there’s enough loo paper.
We don’t have little kids at home who need to stay safe and continue to be educated.
We don’t have elderly parents to worry about.
Our kids are safe and healthy.

I’m quick to get frustrated.
And my husband often bears the brunt of that. I mean, sometimes he’s part of the situation, sometimes he’s just in the line of fire. But I hope he really understands how precious he is to me.
We had a conversation over the weekend in which I shared my concern that he never hears the good stuff. That he only hears negativity and criticism. I suggested that predated me. I’m not saying that I can’t be critical, because I can.
I’m hopeful he’s listening more for the good stuff.

My feels for this man are deep and wide.
We were meant to find each other in this life, but only when we were truly ready to accept the other with an open heart.
I waited my whole life for YBW.
He was worth the wait.
He told me “I think I’m falling in love with you.” the first time we were in the same physical space after dating over the phone and email for a couple of months. The smartest thing I ever did was decide to trust him.
His love and his kindness are without measure.
His desire to do all he can for the people he loves is bigger than he is.
His sense of humor is twisted and kind of gross, yet he continues to amuse me.
He’s creepy and weird but it somehow compliments my own creepy weirdness.

He has loved me though the last ten years with a kind and playful heart.
I am grateful for his willingness to fix my problems even when I don’t need him to.
Him simply being him eased my anxious heart and helped me feel more calm and settled.
I am grateful to feel safe in his love.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

I’m a mood

It’s Wednesday and I’m trying to create a plan for my day…
Only I’ve literally done all the ‘things’.
Nothing left to sort or organize. Nothing to prep. Nothing to engage me creatively.
Other than laundry and food prep, I have no tasks or projects to keep me occupied. And truth be told, I don’t really care about food right now.
I’m reading, but even that’s not enough. I find myself finishing a chapter or two and looking around for something else to do.
Writing is tricky as I’m not sure what to say that doesn’t sound whiny AF.

Monday my big event was going over Michaels for a curbside pick up. Driving with the windows down and the beautiful sunny breeze was excellent. I almost just kept driving. Only I didn’t put on shoes before I left since I knew I wouldn’t have to get out of my car and it felt a bit ridiculous to be out and about without shoes, what if something happened and I had to walk?

Tuesday I stripped and remade the bed, laundered and folded sheets and towels. I skipped laundry day Friday because I had an appointment with the acupuncturist. So I also did clothes instead of just linens.
Even laundry didn’t help me perk up. Though it is nice to have everything clean.

I’m in a mood.
No, I am a mood.

I’m not entirely sad.
I’m not entirely angry.
I’m sure as fuck not content.

I’m tired. But not the kind of tired a good night’s rest alleviates. I’m the kind of tired that seeps into your bones and fills the very marrow.
And tired isn’t quite the right word either.

I’m searching for something I can’t quite put my finger on…
Something to keep my brain and body occupied in a positive way.

Perhaps I should go down to Thing 1’s and help her pack…of course making that trip twice in two months is over the top…at least it would give me something to do. And I could see that delightful fat baby!
That drive though…
Perhaps a quickie trip to see Thing 2? We could do a girlie hotel weekend! Are hotels even open?

I keep thinking inspiration will arrive via roundhouse kick to my soul…
So far, so nothing.

I’ve sworn off social media for a while. I can’t handle it anymore. I can’t stand how people claim to be woke then say bullshit like all lives matter.
Of-fucking-course all lives matter, but the only people dying in the streets are black people. So yes! Black lives are what matter right now.
I will never understand what it’s like to be a black person or other person of color in America, but by God, I am paying attention!

I’m grouchy.
I’m antsy.
I’m chock full of nervous energy with nothing productive to pour it into.
I am frustrated.
I am tired.

But above all, I am hopeful.
I keep looking for the silver lining. For the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. For the muses to show up and dazzle me.
Alas…here I sit. Writing about being a mood.
I appreciate your patience.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

learning to do what’s right

I know what it’s like to be poor in America.
And I mean poor. The kind of poor in which a family is chronically on the verge of homelessness.
I know what it’s like to be a woman in America.
A place in which my rights to my own bodily autonomy hang by a thread. A place where I remain constantly vigilant whenever and wherever I am out in the world.
I understand being fearful.
I understand being hungry.
I understand feeling my effort to improve my life falling consistently short.
But even though I know these situations, I cannot fathom the depth of feelings they would bring if I was a person of color instead of a white woman.

I understand grief. I understand trauma. I know how hard it is to experience these huge feelings.
I understand the need for peaceful protest. My God, I understand the need for non-peaceful protest.
I find myself working so hard to understand how deep and wide is the pool of fear and grief that causes people to destroy their homes and businesses. That the only way to express that desperate depth of feeling is to lash out at your own neighborhoods.
I have no way of understanding the endless generational racial trauma constantly pounding down on people of color. That level of pain. That constant barrage of fear and grief and killing.
No human should be made to live like that!

What is going on in America is frightening!
The status quo is sick and wrong! It needs to change!
I have so many feels and no where to go with them.
I don’t know how to help. I don’t know what to do.
But I have to try!

I don’t know what’s the right thing to do.
I am fearful of doing the wrong thing.
I am fearful that by doing the wrong thing, I’ll contribute to making the situation worse.
I am fearful that by doing nothing to avoid doing the wrong thing I am actively making the situation worse.

Because I’m a white woman, I feel like my voice can be easily misconstrued as disingenuous and I feel unsure about speaking out. However, I realize my silence is me being complicit.
I feel like my duty is to listen and learn as much as I can.
I feel like my duty is to support those who need it.
I feel like my duty is to help educate people. Especially people like me who won’t ever have to worry because of the color of their skin.

We are one human family.
I am resolved learn how to be a true ally.
I may stumble and make things temporarily worse. But I am committed to doing what is right. I am working toward being a true member of this human family.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 18 Comments

the view from here

The last two days, I feel like I’ve been in seriously great Momma mode!
Y’all, I’m so blessed to be my daughters mother. They are incredible women, and my love for them is unconditional and limitless!

Yesterday Thing 2 and I talked for a while for the first time since my birthday. I assisted her in some important decision making, and provided over all Momma love and support. That girl is made of some seriously sturdy stuff, but sometimes needs help remembering. It’s hard when you feel like you have to do everything on your own. Being reminded you have loving, supportive people in your corner helps get you out of your head and provides a fresh perspective on everything.

This morning Thing 1 was feeling a bit overwhelmed by her own great and arduous task of packing her house. I asked if she was needing assistance planning or simply needed to be heard. She was all about the help.
So I suggested she start with a list (I mean of course I did, I’m the freaking List Lady after all!). I suggested she plan out what needs to be packed and then create a timeline.
Of course Baby K is like, WTF mommy? when Thing 1 is trying to pack instead of playing. I know that’s hard for both of them.
But I was struck with an idea!
What if Thing 1 actively packed for only twenty minutes each hour!?! She may not feel like she’s accomplishing much, or even finish packing one box, but she might feel less overwhelmed, and Baby K won’t get her diapie in a twist at being ‘ignored’.
Set a timer! Crank the music! Make a game of it! Baby K will love that, and Thing 1 can get things done without too much stress.
And, if she does her twenty minutes at the top of each hour, they have that last forty minutes to play together!

And in this house…
Yesterday afternoon, I opened one of the bins YBW and I pulled out of the utility room.
It was labeled with the names of my grandparents followed by the words family info.
So I was pretty much expecting all the genealogy stuff my mother complied in her lifetime. That was what I remembered putting in the bin after going through all the stuff my mother’s husband gave me five years ago.
But damn if I didn’t surprise myself!
In that bin was more so much more than the genealogy information.
Some random af stuff I didn’t know what to do with when I initially received it, but felt comfortable deciding yesterday.
Grandaddy’s harmonica.
My mom’s passport in which I too am in the photo as I was in her belly.
My grandmother’s hand written birth certificate.
And this (these?) gem(s).

I was able to divide and conquer everything, saving some things I want the girls to see before I dispose of them, and only had a small discard pile.
Of course now I have a stuffy headache from the mildew that clings to some of those items. It’s worth it.

Today I’m kind of being quiet. That is, not really doing much. Some writing. A bit of tidying. A bit of ridiculousness…
YBW is working from home this week so I went in there and said, You have a minute? He turned to give me his undivided attention.
Me: Wanna know how old I am?
YBW: Forty nine.
Me: Yeah, but not in chronological time.
YBW: …
Me: I think I need a neckchain for my reading glasses.
YBW: smiles but says nothing…
Me: If I’m wearing a pony or bun-bun I can’t put them on top of my head, they fall off.
YBW: serious face but silent…
Me: Is that ridiculous?
YBW: Not if me in my shorts and tee, and socks and slippers, and hoodie isn’t too ridiculous.
Me: I love everything about you.
YBW: Me too, baby.

Good Lord, we’re ridiculous!
At least each of us thinks this about the other.

This afternoon I’ll be focusing on organizing music, doing a bit of research on brain health and mental illness, and shopping for some stylish chains for my reading glasses.
Can you handle the excitement?

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

things are just things

Y’all know Thing 1 and her family will be living in our house for a few months starting some time in July.
Y’all know YBW and I are eager to purchase and move into that townhouse.
The first of these will cause a change in the way we live in this house.
The second how we live in our new house.

This got me thinking about how I currently live in this house, how I want to live my remaining time in this house, and how I want to live in the new house.
Not how YBW and I live together. Those things must be decided by us as a unit.
I’m thinking how I want to live and what that means for me as a member of our household.

This thought process has been somewhat active as we begin to make preparations, but hatched into actual thoughts when I sent a photo to Thing 1 and Thing 2 asking if either of them had any interest in this item.

The story is my great aunt made this lamp for me. I don’t know when, but I do know I can’t remember a time when it wasn’t in my bedroom.
This Raggedy Ann lamp is a part of my life for as long as I can remember, but I don’t have any strong feels about it.
Thing 1 remarked that it’s one of those things that just stuck around.
The more I considered this, the more I realized that’s not a mindful way to live. At least I feel that way now about how I want to live.
Of late, I’ve worried that it may seem as though, and sometimes even feels like I’m just purging to purge, but I’m actually being super mindful about the way I want to live.
And what I surround myself with.
And what I leave behind needs to be the truest representation of the me I am (was?), and be simple for my daughters to handle.

I have this feeling it’s like shedding skin…
Or some sort of evolutionary process…
Leaving behind who you were in a mindful and respectful way and making room to become the next version of you…?

This is the last year of my forties, a natural phase of evolution as we get ready for a decade change. As I look at my life, I see how much my surroundings impact the way I live. By going through my things in a respectfully mindful way, I can prepare and environment that will meet my needs. Living my intention. Thriving in an environment that gives me everything I need with the bonus of things that foster learning and creativity. An environment in which I have enough room and the proper tools to grow into the next version of me.

Even though this lamp has been in my life as long as I can remember I don’t have any real feels about it.
Lack of feels is a strong indication that I don’t need it in my life which obviously means there’s no place for it in my house.
Purging to purge isn’t always healthy.
But being mindful about how I curate my environment is incredibly healthy.

My mom was not a full blown horder, but she was sure as hell a packrat. What I’ve learned about her since she’s been gone is that she saved things to fill emotional emptiness. By simply having these things she could feel the feels she didn’t have inside her.
She saved things that meant something because of the feels they evoked in her. Feels she couldn’t experience any other way.
My ex husband is exactly the same.
There is something about possessing particular items that provides some sort of emotion they otherwise lack (lacked). I truly believe it reinforces their stunted emotional growth. Then the weight of the things traps (trapped) them, so there’s no room to learn, or create, or grow.

I understand having great big feels about certain items. For me, a specific example of this is my Grandaddy’s wallet. It is of absolutely no use to me, but the feelings that bubble up in me when I hold it make it worth keeping.
But that is one particular item that is in a special place in my bookshelf that I can go to when I want to feel the intensity of those feels.
It doesn’t impact the way I live. It doesn’t block creativity or inhibit learning. It doesn’t waste space. It doesn’t keep me from growing as a human.
And I know as I write this that there will come a point in time I’ll be willing to let it go. Today is not that time.

I can’t be trapped by possessions. I need freedom to move. If I can’t move, I can’t grow.
I need to grow!
I want to evolve in my relationships with my friends.
I want to evolve in my relationships with my daughters.
I want to evolve with my granddaughter as she builds relationships.
I want to evolve in my relationship with my precious husband.

Things are just things.
At this stage of my life, my main focus is to curate my surroundings in a way that helps me thrive. Living my intention, learning and creating, and growing into the next version of me gives me all the feels.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

IWotB 2020 edition ~ day seven

Today is the last day of International Week of the Birthday.
Even during this strangest of times, when everything is different and we’re all a bit fearful, I feel celebrated. Part of that is me just being me. I love birthdays! The day you came into the world is the most precious and sacred event and should be celebrated to the nth degree!
Earlier this week I wondered perhaps a grown woman shouldn’t be as excited about celebrating her birthday as I am. But the more I considered it, the more I realized who else should celebrate the anniversary of my birth more than me?
I’ve lived through every moment of my life. I’ve made it to this place where I can say, I’m forty nine years old and I am (for the most part) content with the me I am.
What’s more cause for celebration than that?

I’m not exactly the me I intended. In many ways I’m so much more! In other ways I see room for improvement. But I celebrate that too!
I am this me, and can continue my work to become an even more me.

This post didn’t go the way I expected when I began, but I quite love where it lead us.
Even though IWotB is ending today, I’m going to keep celebrating my me. The me I was. The me I am. The me I work to become. Because each version of me did, and will continue to live my intention, learn and grow, suffer and backslide, experience love, and loss, and I will celebrate every moment with joy and gratitude! I choose to celebrate the good, bad, ugly, and indifferent, because they created the me I am today. And I’m worth celebrating!
I encourage all y’all to celebrate your yous. The past, present, and future you. Celebrate becoming the you you long to be. Celebrate your you, I promise you’re worth it!

Crowley is my spirit animal

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

IWotB 2020 edition ~ day five

I had a nice quiet morning organizing books. Of course then I had a stack of books I’ve read, but don’t actually want to keep.
For the most part, I share books with my friend Josie. I can trust her to take good care of the ones I want back, and know anything she passes along will go to a good reader.
In true ‘if you give a mouse a cookie’ fashion, this book organization lead to me texting Josie. Which lead to YBW and I going out to Mike and Josie’s to drop off books. But since we were there, we had (an appropriately socially distanced) visit on their porch and carry out from this precious local restaurant called Field & Main.

When we got home there were packages in the mailbox for me!

Colors from the Essie summer collection Bustling Bazaar, and Christopher Moore’s new book! The second sequel to one of my all time favorites, Fool.
AND(!!!) Check this out!

International Week of the Birthday continues to rock!

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

IWotB 2020 edition ~ day four

Thing 1, Husband N, and Baby K are moving to our house in July.
They’ll live here for a few months until they find and move into their own house.

Though there will be three more humans and three dogs in our house, YBW and I are pretty excited to have unlimited access to Baby K! And I’m especially eager to spend more time with my daughter.

Baby K will move her things into my nest and that will become her room while they’re here in our house.
I’m in the process of transforming it from ‘Birdie’s Nest’ to ‘Baby K’s busy bee hive’.
I’m sad to disassemble my work space, but if it means she’ll be here, it’s worth it.

Here’s where I am in the process.

I’ll move the black shelves out, the chair and bench too.
The white shelves will stay as a place for Baby K’s things. Practical things like diapers and wipes on the upper part of the shelf, and books and toys on the lower part of the shelf. YBW and I are going to secure it to the wall to keep her safe.
I’ll hang and rehang the art higher up on the wall so she can’t reach it when she’s standing in her crib.

Would I normally celebrate International Week of the Birthday working like this?
Perhaps not. But after a chock full birthday, I’m looking forward to a bit of busy work then chilling.

Categories: me | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

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