In pictures taken by me, my bangs look fab. In pictures taken by other people, bangs got me lookin’ very much like a turtle.
My son…my BABY…has now transitioned to size 3 diapers. He turned 6 months old last week..and now this?! Size 3 diapers?! Ugh. In other news, I plan to begin using cloth diapers soon…and I’m stoked. Stoked for the planet. Stoked for his diaper rash. Stoked for all of those chemicals off his tush. Stoked for the money we’ll save. …I hope I’m this excited when we actually make the swap. …I bet I will be. Right? I keep telling myself, “I have never heard someone who uses cloth diapers say anything horribly negative about them.” “I’ve never heard someone who uses clothe diapers say, ‘Ugh, it was awful…I went and bought a pack of Huggies as soon as I could.’” So. This’ll be a good thing. For everyone. Including the Earth. …when I get nervous, I repeat myself… Moving right along.
For Mother’s Day, I wanted all of my “mothers” together. In this picture, you can see my mother-in-law, my mom, my mom’s mom, and my biological dad’s mom. And that man in the blue shirt at the peninsula (isn’t not an island..don’t call it that)…that’s my stepdad. My mom’s mom’s husband is sitting next to her and my mom…and my father-in-law is over by the sink with my husband. They’re getting the homemade ice cream ready, I believe. And then there’s Journey…the energetic angel that made me a mom at 22…when I was anything but prepared to be a mom. 22 isn’t terribly young, but I was. I was immature and unsure and trapped in chaos… Thinking back to when Journey was Jett’s age, there are so many blank spots in my memory…and I am so thankful for my mom in those times, because I know she was filling in when I was emotionally unavailable. Anyway. That’s not what I’d planned to say here. But that’s what came out. I wanted to write about how I was so worried all day long about vacuuming and dusting and polishing wood floors and cleaning bathrooms and windows and where I could hide junk piles and fingerprints…and the FOOD…I cooked for all of these COOKS…and I was so nervous that I was going to screw everything up. But I didn’t screw everything up. The food was great…people had seconds and thirds… And not a single person said anything about my floors not being sparkly enough. Or dust on my blinds. Or finger-swipe of fuchsia paint, trailing down the staircase on the wall from Journey that morning. No one said anything about any of that. Not a peep. So, other moms, if you’re reading this: No one cares if your house isn’t spotless. It just makes it that much more obvious that your house is a home. Anyway: It was a really, really, really good day. My heart felt so full. …as did my belly… (cue next photo)
Next time you make Hashbrown Casserole (Funeral Potatoes), mix in some chopped green onion and swap the cereal topping for bacon. You will thank me…as will your guests. It’s like a loaded baked potato casserole.
For our very first Valentine’s Day together, Tommy bought me a pair of diamond earrings. My very first pair of diamond earrings. Within a few months, I’d dropped one down the sink at my old apartment and it was never seen again. For Mother’s Day, I asked for a clothes line…and REALLY thought I was getting a clothes line. When I opened my earrings, I cried and cried. It was so thoughtful!…and I was not expecting it at all. (Tommy said, “Well, we’ll still get your clothes line…but that’s not going to be your Mother’s Day present. Geez.”)
He doesn’t yet crawl. Or hold his own bottle. And sitting up lasts about 10 solid seconds before he gets top heavy and ends up on his side. But he is flawless. And in 13 more working days…I get to stay home with him. And, after June, Journey gets all of July to stay home with us, too. I can’t wait.
I used to hate getting flowers. “They’re SUCH a waste of money.” “They just DIE anyway.” Guess what? Now I’m a grown up. I’m pushin 30. And I love getting flowers. I love how they look…I love how they smell…I love them for special occasions and no occasion at all.
This. That picture down in the left corner…where Journey is cheesin’ way big…I look like a Caucasian Samoan…and Grandma is mid-sentence with, “Someone needs to straighten her out!” (half-jokingly talking about Journey, of course.)…and my mom looks amazing (just like always)…that’s 4 generations. And that picture up in the right corner…that’s my mom’s mom and my dad’s mom. Those two made the two that made me. And that one in the upper left…that’s my dad’s mom…and she’s demonstrated resiliency, strength, and faith that is out of this world. And that one on the lower right…that’s my mom…and, when I’m finished having babies, I’m gonna have a hot-bod just like her. (She’s going to kill me for posting that.) And that one in the middle right…she’s me. We are the same person…and I love her more than words can describe. “A bushel and a peck” don’t even come close. I am so blessed to have such amazing role models. So blessed. I know so many women that don’t have ONE woman to look up to in their bloodline…and I have several. I am so thankful that I had the opportunity to spend Mother’s Day with these three. It was such a good day.
