Mommy Feels Nostalgic

I don't know that I even want to continue writing in this old space. I feel I've outgrown it. But for the sake of not having to create a whole new blog, I just need to dump these words somewhere before my head (or heart) explodes.

My daughter starts school tomorrow. Kinder. And I'm not looking forward to it at all. 

Yes there is that part of me (that proud part) as her mother that is excited for all she'll continue to learn and all the friends she'll hopefully make, and how (I pray) she'll love her teacher. But outside of that, I'm a mess. For three weeks, I've been a snotty, swollen eyed, sore throat from wailing out into my pillow, mess. The crying fits bring with them a migraine in the morning. And I wish I wasn't this way. But I've always felt things so strongly, so deeply, and this is no exception. In fact, there's been no exception quite like this.

The realization that today was the last day I had my daughter home, after being so very fortunate to have had her with me these last five and a half years, has been crushing. I can't explain how absolutely devastating and heartbreaking it's been recently, as we inched closer to this day. I've never cried so much, and that's saying something, because, again, when you feel EVERYTHING, everything either makes you so happy you cry, or shit hurts like hell and you cry your face off. 

Being a mom has been a dream come true. Getting to be a stay at home mom has been the sweetest, most colossal cherry on top. It's what I've wanted more than anything in the whole world since I was a kid. I've always known I wanted to be a mom, and the journey to motherhood was a long and painful one: Three miscarriages, an emergency surgery as a result of an ectopic pregnancy, loss of a fallopian tube, infertility issues, and so many poking and prodding tests.

Then like magic, at the - truly - most perfect time, came my Donna. After the miscarriages and then five years of no positive pregnancy tests, came two pink lines on a stick the night before I graduated college, while my whole family, plus inlaws, were, for the first time, in the same place (our first purchased home), three days before we were supposed to begin IVF--did you get all that? There's no other way to say it--the timing was *chef's kiss* perfect. 

Pregnancy was easy, despite so much morning (and night) sickness. I had the natural hypnobirth I wanted and had researched/absorbed for the previous three years. But more than that, I said birth was going to be easy and peaceful and nothing like the horror stories I'd heard, and it was. I willed it so. Mind over matter. I essentially meditated my daughter down the birth canal while dancing with and kissing my husband, and when I felt her rest at the place for expulsion, I pushed for ten minutes and she was earthside. It almost felt too easy. Maybe because I never feared it? 

Breastfeeding came naturally for us with not a single issue, outside of plugged ducts (once per kid) that I massaged out in a hot shower. All of this I am grateful for because I know these are not easy feats for many, many women. But somehow, I said, "this is how things are gonna go for me, despite all the people I know personally and all the strangers who say it's not so easy; their story isn't my story," and I got lucky. And that's how it is with parenthood: some parts of it come effortlessly for some, and some parts are difficult, disastrous events for others. And the latter is me with school. Mind over matter is out the window, meditating and praying under the moonlight isn't helping for shit. This is difficult and I am a disaster, but maybe because I've always feared this moment.

The thought that tomorrow begins the chapter of parenthood where I begin sending my first born off to school, to be away from me for seven hours a day, five days a week seems a million times harder than birth or breastfeeding every single day for five years, seven months, two weeks, and three days (and still counting). I've never felt this much anxiety. My head literally hurts all day, my heart, too. Damn these kindergarten blues.

Donna is ready and has been so brave about this new transition. Lord knows I need her to be. Because after I've hyped up kindergarten to her, I've walked away for a quick cry in the pantry. And after she's gone to bed, I've sobbed like.a.fucking.baby. I've even crept into her room to sleep with her on some of my rougher nights. 

It seems like yesterday she was born and I had all the time in the world with her. I think of those first three months of her life and how we bounced between the couch and the bed, nursing the days away while watching Parks and Rec, Charlotte's Web, and lots of Doc McStuffins. I know it's unpopular, but I loved it: the nursing for hours on end and having nowhere to be but cozied up in our home, together. Those days where we were both new, they were so slow and peaceful. It was beautiful and I don't think I'll ever look back on them and not immediately well up with tears. "The days are long, but the years are short" they say. "They" are right. 

At three months, I wanted friends for the both of us, so I found a place for moms to meet online, and I formed my mom crew. First Florida, then Texas. First Donna, then Michael. Hundreds of playdates we've done. I've hosted a ton, and we've been hosted too. So many playgrounds and indoor play places. Parks & trails, children's museums, even the beach. We were never short on friends. But there were plenty of times I enjoyed just us two, or us three (now with her brother) doing a playdate without anyone else tagging along. 

I can't tell you just how much fun it's been. I've always felt like a kid at heart, and I have wanted nothing more than to give my children the most magical childhood with memories to last a lifetime. And especially memories of a mom who ran through all those tunnels with them, jumped in the ball pits, bounced on the trampolines, and slid down the slippery slides right alongside them, even when I was nine months pregnant. 

To know that those playdates are over for Donna is crushing and I feel so weighed down by this sadness and my anxiety. 

Though I've enjoyed the one on one time I've recently gotten with Michael when she went back to preschool this June (for three days a week), Donna's absence was still felt as I'd remember those first couple years of new motherhood where Donna and I did all these same things together. I hear her laughter, see her smile, and those big brown eyes that would widen like super moons every time I took her somewhere to play. It was rare we'd stay home, before the pandemic. Our days were so full and trust me, I was never not tired, but since day one, it's been everything to see my babies light up when I ask if they want to go to such and such place that morning. The joy on their little faces erases my exhaustion, or at least puts it on hold, just to see them so happy. I wish everyday could be like that. 

When I think of how long we've had, I am grateful with all my heart. It'll never be enough for me though. I'll always want more. More time. And though I knew this day would come, and as much as we've done between many trips across several states, and as many years worth of bonding as Donna and I had, the 'School Chapter' feels like it came overnight, and all those years by in a blink. 

My baby's growing up. 

Each stage of parenthood/childhood brings new challenges. A little more independence here and there for the kiddo, a little more letting go for the parent. This one has been the hardest on my heart. I can do tough things, and I constantly impress myself with how I can put mind over matter and breathe through moments that require so much work, whether it be mental or physical. But I feel the most out of control in my headspace and my emotional state than ever before. It's as though I'm grieving the end of something gut-wrenchingly painful, while still having the wherewithal to know, I will likely cry even harder (if that's possible) tomorrow, and maybe again on Thursday, but I'll come out of this and all will be fine (more than fine) once I've moved into the acceptance, and maybe even joyful, part of this new beginning. 

It feels like something's wrong with me for being this dramatic and heartbroken. I only know three friends who are kindergarten-reeling to this degree, and I have read some ugly-cry-inducing blog posts from moms I don't know who are feeling everything I can't articulate. But still. We seem to be in the minority. Most of my mom friends are posting "back to school" photos with apple and book emojis and captioning positive, encouraging, and simple words. I wonder if they're hurting as much as me outside of the one line captions and context-appropriate emojis? I see posts from hilarious mom meme pages I follow, where the moms are sharing how thrilled they are to have a quiet house again after spending the summer with their kids. 

I'm not going to pretend for a second my kids don't drive me crazy too. I am guilty of losing my temper and yelling and apologizing from my soul and then desperately wanting a moment to myself. But no matter how tired I am, how badly I want to sit down and watch what I want, or how nice it would be to sit down and eat without getting up so many times my food goes cold, I one-million percent would always, always, always rather my kids be home with me where I can see them and know they're safe.

Because it's not just the grieving of this one chapter coming to an end, it's the trusting that I am struggling with. It's going to be a monumental effort on my part to relinquish my full time role as overseer of my daughter's wellbeing to someone I've met once for two minutes, in a building we've set foot in once. A building that Donna looked way too small to be walking through. I feel like I'm being forced to do something I don't feel even slightly comfortable doing. Again, I know this probably sounds insane because it's school and it's part of life and blah blah blah. But I never looked at it through the lens I'm looking at it now, as a mother. A mother letting go a little. 

A mom endlessly hoping and praying that the teacher is kind and patient and passionate about her very important (very appreciated) job, and that the classmates are nice. Praying that no one makes fun of how Donna still pronounces words that begin with sp (such as spelling, sprint, sport, or spanish) with an f sound (e.g. felling, frint, fort, fanish). Praying that Donna doesn't excitedly talk about something she likes, only to be called a baby for watching it or playing with it, and comes home disinterested in this hypothetical thing she loved so much. Praying that she has someone to eat with at lunch and play with at recess. Praying, praying, praying. 

My baby's growing up. 

You can grieve anything that ends that meant the whole world to you, even if it's really a small chapter in the grand scheme of things. If it's ending or changing and you don't want it to, and your heart wants badly to hold on longer - the more I think about it (with tears fully flowing down my face right now) - it makes sense you'd grieve it, and there's nothing silly about that. You - we - I, just gotta remember that grief is temporary, healing is inevitable, and "joy comes in the morning."

Not tomorrow morning, though. Tomorrow is kindergarten and bravery will be necessary as I lead my girl through double doors and new hallways to her classroom and wish her a wonderful day. And I can't imagine I'll make it even a foot without crying as I turn my back to her. Can't get too crazy with the tears because Michael might be fighting off tears of his own (he is so attached to his sister) and I'll have to be doubly brave. I can will that so.

So no, not tomorrow, but hopefully joy will find me in the morning on Thursday. If not then, soon. I will it so.

Fall blues

It's raining a ton in Florida right now, and while I'd normally be in gloomy day heaven, I can't help but think, "this doesn't feel like Fall." It was hot as shit yesterday and the humidity destroyed my hair. I can barely get two whole days of dirty hair down here before my mane just looks yuck. There's no foliage; no purples, mustards or reds. I love palm trees and the beaches and all, but just not during my favorite season. I've spent the morning looking out the window, watching the rain fall and thinking of what the weather is like in New Jersey and New York right now. How there's sunlight during the day but it's chilly enough to require a jacket. I'm even yearning for the smell of a northeastern fall. The smell that never lasted quite long enough before the harsh winds of winter left marks on your cheeks and made your ears wanna cry. What I'm trying to say is, you shouldn't have back sweat stains on your shirt in October. And speaking of shouldn'ts, I know I shouldn't be complaining. I do remember how much griping I did every year when winter seemed to overstay its welcome (by months!), but it's funny how you can miss the things that irk you.
I'd give anything to be walking through Central Park right now, holding hands with Mikey and eating a pretzel, or walking down any of my old favorite pathways on FDU, heading to my next class while stopping to take pictures of the same mansion and the same towering trees, like I did just about every single day during my two and a half years there.

a copy of a copy of a copy

"With insomnia, nothing's real. Everything's far away. Everything's a copy of a copy of a copy. When you have insomnia, you're never really asleep, and you're never really awake." (Fight Club is one of the coolest, most relevant movies ever. Maybe.)

You may or may not be able to tell, but when I took these pictures the other day, I was headed to school and I hadn't slept in almost 30 hours. 

Mikey's been in Florida, working at his new job (and doing exceptionally well, I must add) for the last month and some change. I've been here in Jersey, finishing up my semester and living with his dad. Most girls can't handle separation from their husbands, I think I do it just fine. But I'm not most girls (and it also helps that he's not in Iraq this time--I admit, I didn't handle 130 days of that so great in the beginning, but that's different--there isn't much of an FPCON level in Fort Myers, Florida). I love my alone time and when I have it, I cherish it by spending a good amount of time thinking, reading, drinking wine, listening to music, taking bubble baths, painting my nails, writing in my journal, and watching a shit ton of Arrested Development (but you already knew that). I have my whole life to spend with Mikey, so there's no sense in me crying everyday that I miss him so much. It goes without saying that I do. But I've also always been abnormally independent. It doesn't mean I don't love as much, I just do it differently I guess. Why am I even saying all this? To show how strong I am? I don't think so. Quite the contrary I suppose. You see at night, that's when everything becomes a bit more challenging. I'm used to Mikey sleeping next to me. I guess in that aspect, I've grown very dependent. In bed with him, I sleep better. Like a baby. Since he's been gone, I haven't had the best sleep. I've been averaging about four hours a night during the week--if I sleep at all--but come the weekend, I can be in bed by nine or ten p.m. and sleep well past noon the next day. (Maybe school is just stressing me the fudge out and that's why I can't sleep during the week? Who knows.) I recently purchased a bottle of "Sleep Aid Maximum Strength" at Target; the lady at the pharmacy counter told me it's really just Benadryl and that she recommends it over Melatonin (which is what I usually take) if you're having honest to goodness trouble sleeping. It obviously works like a dream, but I've been trying not to take it every night, so as to give myself the opportunity to fall asleep naturally. I was godawful tired tonight, so I resisted the sleep aid and what do you know? It's 4:37 in the morning and I have class at 9:55...

If any of you have suffered from this ruthless bitch, Insomnia, and have any remedies that might work, feel free to send them my way. 

Vintage 1950's dress from The Attic in Las Vegas (it was a gift from Mikey on our 1 year anniversary)

Gem stone floral necklace: Anthropologie 2010

Mel by Melissa "Apple" Bow Jelly Sandal (mouthful)

In other news, Spring has finally sprung in New Jersey. It's beautiful, especially on FDU. And oh yeah, I suppose it's been a while since I posted (shocker), so I have new hair. Hiiiii. K bye.

Love, me.

P.s. I start my week long road trip to head south to Florida next Friday after my final exam! I'm making a few pit stops along the way to see some old bffs, my mother-in-law, and maybe meet up with some girls who I adore from IG (I'm spontaneous-and crazy-like that). Can't wait!

smiles, pleasantries, and a car wash: how to make my day *slash* I love when people are nice to me

{{See also: The Little Things}}

Dress: Dear Creatures// Cardi: so old, don't remember// Tights, pumps: ModCloth// Bag: F21 (also old)

These were taken yesterday, Friday. It's a day worthy of mention since people, strangers essentially, were just so nice to me. I mean, nice enough to boggle my mind multiple times as I was running my errands. (Northern New Jersey/NYC area aren't exactly known for being hospitable--not to say they never are.) For a second, it felt like my birthday and the niceties were obligatory or something. But nope, I wasn't wearing a Little Mermaid tiara and there wasn't a five dollar bill pinned to my dress to initiate a followup of even larger bills (why do I forget to try this out every year?). People were just in a good mood, in this rat race "I'm too busy to even respond to your 'hello'" city! It was wonderful and it honestly just uplifted my spirits. Can I share a story? Yeah? Okay...
When we first moved here, and I'm talking the first day we got here, we walked down the street from our apartment to get a slice of pizza around the corner (cliche much?). Mikey and I passed dozens of people on that short walk and I said hello to almost all of them; not a single person acknowledged my attempt at pleasantries. Most didn't even look up at me and speed-walked past, others actually looked at me like I was a quack. All I said was hello.
I remember eating the pizza in the most pissy, depressed manner (the saddest girl to ever hold a slice of pizza-- I'm making a Vanilla Sky joke). "I wish we'd stayed in Vegas," I moped, "people in the south and on the west coast are a lot friendlier than here...everyone was right, east coasters are kind of assholes." Mikey tried to console me and simultaneously bash the east coast/west coast, who's nicer logic I was throwing at him (he's originally from Jersey). He told me that maybe the people around here weren't used to such bubbly personalities on the street and perhaps I just caught them off guard. "It is a busy city and people just move faster here; they don't really have time to stop and chat with strangers," he took his chances at explaining for them. "But I didn't try to chat, I said hello!" I was getting emotional, as I usually do when I'm in a new state that I want to fall in love with but I'm still missing and comparing everything to my last home. "I know, I know. And it was rude for them to ignore you, but what can you do? Don't let it hurt your feelings. And don't let a few rude people on the street ruin your first day here...we have to live here for at least four years." I remember him saying this and looking at me like I was his child, his head titled looking at me with reasoning eyes while his left hand did that slow, swiping motion down my back. I was holding back tears that probably only came on because it started pouring outside and our table was right at the window. Feeling sorry for yourself can be quite pathetic, but add rain and a window and all I want to do is be the baby I sometimes feel like I am, especially when I'm the vulnerable new girl (this takes place for a few weeks before I become the 'confident and sassy new girl, who everyone should know'). He said this area was going to be very different than anywhere I'd ever lived, but it didn't mean the people weren't as kind. And he was right (duh). I was pretty bitter for the next couple weeks, but I couldn't stop being me. That first day at the pizza place, I probably sounded like a brat, er drama queen, when I said I wouldn't ever say hi to anyone that I walked past again, that if they wanted an asshole I could definitely be their girl. And trust me, I could, but it's not who I want to be for no reason. Ever. So I kept up the smile and niceties toward strangers that make me Me, and it didn't take long for the surrounding neighbors and passersby to treat Mikey and I with the same courtesies. Sure, to this day, not everyone responds to the "hello" or "how are you" I extend their way, but I certainly don't get butt-hurt anymore. It also didn't take long for me to adopt some of the east coast ways myself...like a few driving habits I'm not proud of. Mikey's always reminding me that I'll need to slow my pace down in general when we move to Florida, because they're on island time there, and I'm forever in a state of rushing like most of the people around me here. I suppose I've turned into a speedy little rat (?) myself. I just haven't forgotten to be nice to people in between. And that's what I appreciated so much yesterday.
After school I went to the Mini dealership to check on one of my tires because I got a little pop-up message that one of them was low...a month ago! Oopsy. Not only did they put air in it, but they found a small leak in my oil thingy (that is the correct term for non-mechanics like myself) and fixed/replaced that. They apologized countless times for the wait to which I kept assuring them that I had nowhere to be. I've never been one of those "my time is precious" people. I mean, I suppose all of our time is pretty precious but I'm just not going to be a dick to someone who's helping me. Plus, I had a huge bag of Starburst and they were playing The Lion King in the waiting room--did I really need to rush off?! Nah ah. So the nice dude at the counter lets me know my car is ready, thanks me for my patience, and I go outside to see my baby Aldous (my car's name) all clean and shiny. They washed and vacuumed my car! Now, either they're just as sweet as can be or they noticed that I had six months worth of dirt caked on and thought they needed to hook a girl up. It didn't matter, they made my day. The rest of the day consisted of a handful of other friendly encounters at business establishments that Mikey and I popped in at. Maybe it was obligatory customer service with a smile stuff and maybe people were just happy it was Friday. Either way, I was just warmed by the cheerfulness of so many strangers and workers. A few people (girls) even complimented me on my outfit! One was from the girl at the service desk at Mini, who I've seen on several occasions. She never really smiles or looks too approachable so when she told me that my outfits "always brighten her day because they're so colorful," I was like, "who me?" It was completely unexpected and so sweet, I'm sure I was blushing like an idiot when I thanked her. I wonder if she read my blog post from a couple weeks ago? ;)
I suppose I should shut up and end this babble now. Bottom line: people of New Jersey, thank you for not being pricks yesterday.
Ooooh, I'm only kidding. Y'all were sweet as pie and made my heart really happy. Thank you. Keep that shit up.

Love,
me.

Note: If it wasn't clear, I don't think east coasters are assholes; I think we're all kind of assholes with the potential to be really nice...and vice versa.

home sick/mommy sick

Today, right now, I'm missing my mommy.

I can't wait till the next time I go home. I know my mom and I will do lots of laughing, talking till the wee hours of the morning, and get pints of Blue Bell ice cream to eat while we sit on the couch and watch movies. And of course, she'll make me menudo.
One day, I'll live in Texas again and she'll only be a drive away.

the early November

Guys, here are some pictures that never made it to the blog because I decided to take that long break. These are from November, right after I made it to my first blogaversary and Mikey bought me a celebratory dress for the occasion. We were at school and there were tons of leaves everywhere so naturally, I played in them. Here are the photos.

Coat: Oasis// Dear Creatures dress via ModCloth// Cardi: Express// Tights: ModCloth// Brogue shoes: Endless

This is one of my favorite dresses to play with. It looks so different/lovely/perfect with heels! If I could own everything Dear Creatures puts out, I'd be the happiest girl everrrr.

I think that last one is a pretty neat shot, if I may be so boastful. Good job, Mikey. 

How many of you know that The Early November is--well, was--a band? They used to be one of my favorites, back in my emo days. It's still fun to play them in my car and reminisce on past times (especially with this song). Not only that, the early part of November is also my favorite time of year. The air just smells and feels better. And it reminds me of chilly nights in 2002 when I first began my adventure in the military (I was so young!). I wrote a little personal essay about that last year, maybe I'll share it one day. 

Anywho, I hope you're all having a relaxing Sunday. 

Love,

me

Starlet or Streetwalker?

(If you don't watch Fashion Police on E! then this post title is probably making you go "what the fu??")

Metallic coat: ASOS// Sweater dress: Etsy// Glitter collar: my pal Chryssi made it!// Knee highs: Target// Bait shoes: won in a giveaway on Scathingly Brilliant// Satchel: Marshall's

I wore this--what I initially thought as cute--little number last month to sort of pay homage to two of my favorite movies: Pretty Woman & Clueless. But boy, did people look at me like I was strictly a streetwalker (what kinda hooker have you seen wearing pink bows and baby pink flats?!). All because of about 2.5 inches of exposed thigh. I felt all kinds of uncomfortable wearing this at the grocery store after I felt many a'pairs of eyeballs shooting death stares at me, mainly female ones. Which, I don't understand. Why are women such bitches sometimes? I mean, I could understand if my boobs were out so much that newborn babies were tempted to suckle, or if this dress was see through and I was wearing a thong, or if I was winking at the men that these women clutched onto so tightly, but clearly I wasn't. I was simply holding the hand of my husband and picking out which cereal I wanted: Fruity Pebbles or Cap'n Crunch (I went with the latter, obviously).
When I see a girl in a cute, out of the ordinary outfit, I actually go up and tell her that she looks lovely. But that's just me. I'm not saying that strangers should line up to commend me on my great fashion sense (though I wouldn't turn fans away ;)) , but jeez louise, if you don't like what I'm wearing is it really going to make you feel better to stare at me like I just killed five kittens?
Really, it all comes down to this: if you don't have something nice to say then shut the fuck up and look somewhere else. Right?

Note: I am not at all mad today, I was just recalling my emotions. Sorry that I had to use vulgar language. It was necessary.

Happy Friday!! And remember, be nice to one another, girls. <3