Tag Archives: life


Two months today. For over half of my life – dates have stuck with me. Anniversaries of silly things such as a first kiss, first date, first day of college. I remember those things without needing to be prompted.

When I met Sam – I somehow lost that ability. I can’t tell you when we had our first kiss. Or when we were “official” (well Facebook told me that a few months ago with the whole timeline thing but otherwise I couldn’t tell you…) first I love you. I didn’t keep up. And it turned out better than any relationship I’ve had prior. We finally decided on an “anniversary” for the sake of having one – the day we met. I can’t even tell you what day we got engaged. It’s amazing really. 5 years of my life without keeping up with dates.

But the day I can tell you is August 30th. It’s burned into my brain. I cried on the way to work this morning. How is it possible that she’s only been gone two months but it feels like years since I saw her sweet face? Physical absence is painful. I don’t expect her to greet me anymore. I don’t call out for her when I go to bring Miles in. But I’m keenly aware every single day that something is missing. She is gone.

I’ve had a few dreams in which she’s licking my face. I don’t ever really see her but it’s such a sweet familiar sensation. I don’t wake up with a heavy heart after those dreams. I wake up feeling like something isn’t missing as much. Those days are nice. Part of me wishes it really is her coming to check in. Last week I found one single strand of fur on a dress I bought after she died. I know her fur is probably all over the house but sitting in a pew at court waiting on a hearing it was a nice reminder that she’s always with me.

We’ve adjusted to being a one dog family. It’s strange after being a two dog family for so long. Some days I feel an ache that we need to rescue another dog and other days I can’t imagine bringing one into our lives. Maybe some day.

Thursday is the beginning of a new month. The most hectic month of the year. National Adoption Day is rushing upon me and my already stressful job becomes much more stressful for a few weeks. I’ll be glad once it’s over. And then it’s birthday. And I’m not excited at all.

Last year, my best friend’s father passed away on my birthday. And I know this first anniversary will be painful for him, his family and for me. I loved his dad. He was quirky and sarcastic. I flew to Houston once and his family picked me up at the airport and his dad hugged me. I’ll never forget that moment. They readily accepted me into their family and I’m always grateful for that.

It will be a rough month. And like the past two rough months we will get through it.

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I am second.

All of this upheaval lately has me really soul searching.

We don’t go to church. Katelyn is enrolled at a Pre-K in a church. I’ve been thankful for that because she’s learned a lot about God and Jesus that way without me stumbling about how to talk to her about it in age appropriate ways.

I believe in God. I pray daily. I don’t know if that’s “enough” but for me it’s always felt like enough.

But lately I’ve felt so conflicted. I’ve been so angry. Life seems unfair. And exhausting.

With my job – I give. And give. And give. With little appreciation in return.

I mean, I’m sure it’s there but most of the kids I work with hate me now. Maybe when they’re older they’ll look back and think “Hey I had that one social worker that one time that didn’t suck..”


But the truth is – I do suck. There’s too much to do all the time to be “good” at what I do. Too much paperwork, too much time in court, too many things happening at once to get through them all.

Work spills into home and then I feel like a horrible mother. My phone rings at least once a night when we are home. Often more than that. Most of the time the calls can be ignored until the next day but some cannot. And that is when Katelyn gets upset.

And home spills into work. There are days I need to stay late but can’t because I have to pick K up from school. Sam rarely gets off work in time.

And then resentment spills into home. Sam works a lot. So I am parenting, alone, a lot.

It’s hard. It’s hard not to be angry. Katelyn loves him but is so attached to me that even when he’s home she runs to me.

So I give and give and give. And there is nothing left for me.

We’ve taken off several days this week to try and reconnect as a family. I really feel like everything is at stake right now. We’re so exhausted that the love we all have for one another is masked by everything else.

This morning I’ve been reading the I am Second website and watching videos. Something is missing in my life. And beyond the hole Penny has left in my heart – I know it’s deeper than that. I need to reconnect with God.

So this morning, I’ll reconnect with God. This afternoon we will spend time together and re-prioritize.

There’s more to life than stress. We just have to get there.

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I really wish I had something positive to write about on this thing.


That’s how you come to the soul crushing conclusion that your life sucks right – nothing good to blog about?

My dog is dead, my job is stressful, my kid has hit what I can only describe as the Dear-Jesus-help-us-please-I’m scared 4 year old phase.

Although I am mentally patting myself on the back for checking my work e-mail after hours tonight and avoiding 3 hours of driving for no reason tomorrow.

Little blessings I suppose.

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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.


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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Sunday Secrets.

Every Sunday (well, almost every Sunday) since 2005 I start Sunday off with reading PostSecret. I was utterly fascinated for awhile and told everyone I knew about it. Now that I’m mom I sneak up earlier than usual to enjoy my coffee and secrets in quiet. In all this time, there have been many secrets that me me realize my life could be better and that it could also be way worse.  I’ve laughed, I’ve been angry, I’ve been inspired. All these pieces of paper, items, etc are magic.

I don’t know why I’ve never sent in in a secret. I’m sure I have some secrets that are interesting enough to tell. Or maybe none are that exciting which makes me feel like I really need to be living more.

The lack of secrets may be a good thing, but the lack of self fulfillment is clearly not.

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It might be a Quarter Life Crisis… or just a stirring in my soul.

I wrote the following when I was 21. I was still doe-eyed and taking summer classes before my final year of college. I still had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I only thought I was going through a “quarterlife crisis” then. Hindsight is 20/20 right?

 So I started my summer class today. 8 am is such a lovely time to be at school. I’ve been dreading today for awhile now. 

This class focuses primarily on preparing us for the “real” post-undergrad world. Or as the syllabus states “This course seeks to explore two elements of your development: 1. skills necessary for your professional and personal growth; 2. knowledge that offers you the opportunity to contribute in significant ways to society.”

My first real problem with this class is that I paid 500 plus dollars for someone to tell me how to make decisions, how to write a resume (when I’ve already taken classes that did this multiple times), cover letters!, and budgeting exercises. Secondly, if Tech really cared about my well-being in the future – shouldn’t this class be free and not required? I thought so.

So I drag myself out of bed and somehow make it across town to class. And the topic for two lovely hours today … the quarterlife crisis.

Characteristics of a quarterlife crisis include but are not limited to:
Not knowing what you want
Your 20’s aren’t what you expected
A fear of failure
Not being able to let go of your childhood 
Waffling over decisions
Constantly comparing your options

At some point, I had to write down what I would do if I won the lottery. I said if I won the lottery – I would travel. A lot. Apparently, this is my passion – or my “cowbell” rather. We then had to watch the SNL clip about the Blue Oyster Cult and Will Ferrel going nuts with the cowbell. So now I realized I paid 500 plus dollars to watch Saturday Night Live clips – and to be told I have a “cowbell”. I was also told to just live. To make the best decision based on the information I had and not look back.

I was also told my hypothetical schedule of graduating college at 22 – being married around 25ish and having a child around 28 is a ridiculous concept. This didn’t shock me. Somehow I think I’ve known this all along. Life isn’t about meeting deadlines and I’m the one that set them so I shouldn’t be dissapointed if things don’t always work out that way.

The one thing that did make sense was that decisions aren’t permanent. If you hate something – you can always do something else. We aren’t supposed to know what the hell we’re doing 100% of the time. Apparently, the problem with growing up is that we trade our sense of adventure for this notion of stability.

After coming home and taking a long nap I’ve decided maybe this class isn’t that bad. I’ve also decided I must have started this quarterlife crisis journey at about 16 and it’s just gotten progressively worse.

I’ve always been undecisive … or wishy-washy which is something I’ve heard hundreds of times. I am scared to death of failing. I’m always looking for the better, more stable option. Maybe it’s time I learned to take a few risks. I technically don’t even know who I am anymore – so I don’t really have anything to lose.

 So what exactly should I call it now that I’m on the approaching 30 side of my 20’s? A One Third Life crisis?

I love reading old posts of mine. Now that I’m a “grown up” with a child and a full time job I’m not nearly as introspective as I used to be.

We are at an interesting place in our lives as a family right now. As much as I hate this town and want to move far away from violence and overcrowding to friends, fun, life, better education(!) I am hesitant to leave. I’m entangled in a lot of stories right now and some of these stories are so important to me that I don’t know if I can leave without finding out how they end.

When we moved here it was out of sheer necessity. My grandfather had passed away and I was home sick. I missed my parents, I wanted to spend time with my grandmother. I wanted my daughter to be close to my family like I was. Even 4 years later I still think we made the best decision for her. And now we’ve made another good decision to move her again. We’ve worked so hard on this little house of ours to make it more appealing to the next buyer. Sam has put in lots of sweat, blood and  tears (well maybe not tears so much, but definitely a lot of cussing!) to update the house. And now that we’re in the middle of a seller’s market it’s the best time to go.

We went and looked at houses a couple of weeks ago and I’m stuck back in buy vs. build mode. The oldest house we looked at was built in 2004. The prices they want are well over what we could build a brand new shiny house for. We’ll have to really think that out. The thought of jumping back into the world of mortgage approvals and house shopping really nauseates me. I was 7 months pregnant last time. Now I’ll be dragging my precocious almost 4 year old along for the ride. I guess it’s stressful no matter what point in your life you are at.

It’s all just such upheaval. Leaving the only house your child has ever known to go back to the one place you feel is “home.” Lately Katelyn has been praying at night “God, I want to move back to Lubbock to be close to Baby J and grandma and grandpa.”  (Baby J has to remain nameless for the sake of confidentiality..)

Right now it’s exciting and new to her. And it’s exciting to me too.  But it’s going to be bittersweet.

And it’s going to be a lot of change. I don’t know if I want to do what I’m doing now. I feel like I’ve gotten myself into such a niche and as much as I hate my job, I really love it sometimes too. I need to go back to school. I’ve applied and even talked with an admissions counselor but then I couldn’t even get some basic stuff turned in on time so I decided I might ought to wait until we get settled before I throw that into the mix.

I think the only difference between 21 year old me and 27 year old me is pretty black and white. I got everything I wanted then. Just not quite how I had planned. And I’ve learned the best way to live my life is to help others. And I’ll just keep building off of that.

Everything will fall into place when it should I suppose.

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Sometimes you’ve got to cry.

When I was little – I apparently did not cry often. After one particularly hard day at school with a lot of homework I remember my mom telling me that it was okay to cry. She laughs now but she literally opened a flood gate that night. I remember it very clearly, more so than most of my memories at that age. It was okay to cry. Who knew.

I don’t cry often. Generally crying means I’ve been pushed past an angry breaking point. I don’t cry when I’m sad but stress is definitely my biggest trigger.

The past 9 weeks have been a roller coaster. Lots of questions, lots of digging, lots of not so pleasant answers. Lots of driving, late nights and early mornings.  Throw in some divine intervention, a little luck, and you have my life in a nice package.

I’ve been in a battle (both literally and figuratively.) I considered really unfeasible options at one point. I’ve been at the end of my rope more times than I can count. I’ve wanted to beat my head on my desk. Mess. Mess. Mess. I’ve wanted to throw the towel in on more than one occasion.

And it all melted away today after a very tense, pacing the floor afternoon.

I’ve believed in miracles since I was 11 years old and nearly died. As much as I don’t like to acknowledge that part of my life – I made it through it for a reason. And today someone else made it through for a reason.  And I can only imagine that it is a great reason. I’m so proud to have had a tiny part in that.

The phone rang and I answered with my heart in my throat. And the news was good. I kept it together until I hung up and I literally collapsed in the floor sobbing.  The type of sobbing that made me thankful what little mascara I had on was gone by that point. And it was amazing.

All of the scary, the stressful, the second guessing washed away. Someone’s broken heart being mended managed to restore my own.

The next few days will be a test. And the next few weeks after will show me what I’m made of. And I’m ready for it.

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A little glimpse of crazy … or … more about my breasts than you want to know.

The Daddy person is working late this week. I hate late weeks. It throws K’s schedule off horribly. He’ll be home around bedtime, which in her sweet little mind apparently means – bedtime is way later, thanks Dad! It’s rough for all of us. I’ll be so thankful when we move and he hopefully finds a less demanding job.

Which brings me to this post – that and the little is actually playing and not requiring my full on attention. I work full time in an interesting job. Job shall remain nameless due to confidentiality reasons. Job means I’m responsible for the lives and well beings of little people. And that is stressful. Hence the blog. It used to be fun to ramble and whine when I was younger and didn’t have to be a grown up. Maybe grown up blogging will prove to be cathartic too.

Last weekend, I ventured to the mall while we were away for the weekend to try and find something for Sam for Father’s Day. His typical request is tools. A storm was coming in so I opted for Sears instead of Lowe’s (which would have been further.) Much to my surprise, Victoria’s Secret was having their semi-annual sale.

First off, I should mention I hate shopping. I hate trying on clothes. I don’t generally like malls and won’t go into stores unless I know what I want and where exactly to go to get it. And 99% of the time I refuse to buy anything that is not on sale.

But as a treat to myself and my poor breastfeeding overloaded breasts I decided I could probably rationalize buying a new overpriced bra, or two.

I found two on the sales rack. Tried them on. Hello boobs! Where have you been the past 4 years?

Ironically enough – when I stopped having let down frequently, I also bought some fancy VS bras to celebrate. I couldn’t even tell you where they are now. I digress.

Anyway – I buy these two new bras. One is white, the other hot pink with weird cream lace. And I’m proud of myself.

I attempt to wear one when we go out on “date night” and end up having to readjust my shirt continuously because the bra continues to be visible. Frustrating. But it definitely produced some nice cleavage, so I won’t complain much.

I wore one to work today. I could not wait to get home and get that puppy off. At times I feel like I can’t breath. My boobs look great, youthful even. But the not breathing is a serious issue. I stood in front of the mirror for a moment and admired the boobs. They were never big. The only time they got above a C cup was right after K was born when my milk came in. They were DD for a couple of glorious weeks.

Now they are just a deflated B and my nipples look like they’ve been in a torture device for years. Oh, extended breastfeeding.

I took the bra off and literally gasped as I watched them fall. My breasts are saggy. SAGGY. I am not old enough for saggy, deflated boobs.

At least K loves her “nummy” and Sam is pretty indifferent, so saggy is a-okay in this house!

But wow. Between motherhood and work I feel so old. I hate that I feel old.

I guess the moral of the story is that I didn’t really have boobs before I got pregnant. I didn’t really have boobs while I was pregnant. I had some amount of bigger boobs immediately after giving birth and now I’m back to almost no boobs at all. Ah, the circle of life 🙂

At least my kiddo has a kick ass immune system and we get a lot of bonding time in even though she’s almost 4 going on 40. I suppose I can sacrifice my boobs for that.

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