Tag Archives: growing up

After-party.

I cried myself to sleep the night I turned 28. I had opted to work and since my birthday generally falls close to (or on) Thanksgiving – I think this is the first time I’ve ever worked on my birthday. Katelyn opened my presents while I was getting ready. I cried on the way to work. I missed my dog. I was sad for my friend and his family. It did not start out well.

I holed up in my office and got a lot of work done. It was quiet. No one around the office knew or remembered it was my birthday.

I met my mom and my grandmother for lunch. We had cake and candles that night. Katelyn, of course, blew them all out.

Once you become a mom – your birthday is no longer your birthday. I definitely had a “it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to” experience. It wasn’t fun and I wasn’t proud of it.

And then something happened.

Yesterday I woke up with a renewed sense of self. It felt almost like the sweet fresh promise of New Year’s Day.

I am 28.

My life has not gone how I had planned. But I have everything I need.

I felt recharged and fearless. There is a lot to take on in this world and I still have time and the energy for it. I spent two hours this morning cleaning my office. Eventually we will move and I will leave it all behind. That, dear readers, will be a good day.

Today I’m feeling a little less optimistic. But there are 10 days off looming ahead for Christmas and I am so, so ready for them.

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Just breathe.

Oh life. I feel like I’ve been knocked on my ass. Again.

Ever since my near head on collision experience I’ve been in a weird place. Between that and Penny getting sick – I’m depressed. I think. I don’t know if depression is what it really is. Angst maybe.

I feel like I should have answers to everything but find myself having a hard time catching my breath because I don’t know anything.

Overwhelmed.

Aside from occasionally wandering into a corner and barking Penny has been doing great the past few days. She’s running, going up and down the stairs on her own, loving on Miles and her people. I don’t know how long I have but I’m feeling blessed about each day.

I keep coming back to the same answer. Move.

I am so ready for a fresh start. Lubbock isn’t really a fresh start since we’ve been there before. Except this time it will be different. Long gone is the drunk college girl.

I’m ready to get out of this house. I’m ready to toss boxes of stuff that we no longer use. I’m ready to leave the stress behind. My day to day is so emotionally draining that I feel like it will take years to come out of this haze. I know moving won’t magically fix everything but I feel like it would be a good start.

Sam and I are like passing strangers here. He works so much, I work so much. We co-parent in the best way we can. Some days I look at him and my heart feels so overwhelmed that I’ve managed to get this lucky. Other days I resent him more than anyone I’ve ever met. I guess that’s non-marriage for you. Truthfully, my world would crumble without him. I really hope he knows that.

I’m just ready for a do-over. Or a start over. I’m tired of the same stresses over and over again. I’m tired of putting everyone else’s children above my own. I want to go to sleep at night not worrying about whatever work is left for the next day. I want to take a deep breath and not have a lump in my throat.

So, moving. Quitting. Resigning. I’m not quite sure what will come first at this point. I do know something has got to give though. Before I totally lose myself.

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Birthday letter to my (not so) Little.

Katelyn Anne,

Tomorrow you will be 4 years old. 4 years ago tonight I was pacing our house nervously staring at my bulging baby belly trying not to panic about my looming C-section. I was technically supposed to be on bed rest but at that point I just couldn’t stay still. I remember sleeping about 2 hours that night because I was so excited to meet you. I was worried about the surgery, I was worried about myself, but most of all I was worried that my body was no longer a safe place for you. I couldn’t believe it was finally time to meet you. And I have to admit I was a little excited that your very large baby head would no longer be stuck in my ribs.

It was a long horribly scheduled morning with more waiting and eventually panicking nurses because my blood pressure was so high they thought I was going to have a stroke.

And it was finally time. Your dad and I walked down the hall and close behind were Mimi, Papa and Grandpa Tom and Grandma Susan. Everyone was so anxious and ready to meet you.

Daddy didn’t get to go back with me while they got me ready for the surgery and I think that was the scariest few minutes of my life. They got me ready and had me on the table and I told the anesthesiologist I thought I was feeling nauseated and then they flipped me over and it was pretty much a blur.

Daddy came in and sat with me. Your dad swore he would not look (he has a weak stomach sometimes as you now know…) and I looked up and could see the reflection of my prepped belly in the lights above me so I told Daddy to make me look at him. Once they got started, Daddy lost his mind and stood up to watch.

Daddy saw the whole thing. Surprisingly he was not that traumatized. Pretty soon my doctor was saying “big butt!” and I was warned I would feel some pain when they lifted my ribs and you were out. And you cried. And I cried.

I barely got to see your nose before they made you and Daddy leave. You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. So much more beautiful than I had ever pictured you would be.

And in that second I saw your nose I knew I was more in love with you than any person or thing that I’ve ever loved.

And then I didn’t see you again for almost 8 hours.

The next time we met, it was love.

And it’s never stopped.

Every day you’ve done something that’s made me smile and laugh. You are one of the most intelligent kids I’ve ever met (and that’s not even me being biased!) You are funny, you are strong willed and I cannot wait to watch you grow up to be the amazing woman I know you will be.

I’ve tried to enjoy every day, every milestone because I know life moves so fast. And to think Mommy never believed people when they said how fast children grew up until I had you.

It’s bittersweet for me because you’ll probably be my only little and I think that’s made me selfish sometimes because I just don’t want you to grow up too fast.

I want you to run and play and be captivated by rain, and stars, and everything you think is magical right now. Pretty soon you’ll be old enough to think that I’m not silly anymore and I think that’s probably when I’ll know I’ve done a good job. You are such an amazing child (I can’t say toddler anymore!) and I am so, so proud of you.

And I can’t wait to see all of the amazing things you will learn and do now that you’re 4!

Happy Birthday my not so little anymore.

 

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