To my "little girl" on her 18th birthday...

My dear, sweet Ashlynne,

 Eighteen.  Legally an adult.  Always my baby.

Bear with me as I navigate this land of trying to figure out how to be a parent to an adult child.  I don't know how to do this.  I don't know how good I will be at this whole "parenting an adult" thing.  But keep in mind, you will always be my child. There will probably be plenty of times you have to remind me that you are becoming an adult.  But remember, I might have a hard time wrapping my head and heart around that.  I will always be your mom.  I took the pregnancy test.  I announced you were coming into this world.  I am the first person that heard your heartbeat.  I got the morning sickness, the swollen ankles.  I felt your first movements.  I felt your first hiccups.  I grew as you grew.  I have the scar from your cesarian.  I have grown up right along with you.  I felt the pain as you came into this world, and the joy simultaneously.  And I felt the pain when they took you away, and I sat in your NICU room and cried.  You see, today, you legally become an adult, a woman.  But to me, you will always be that little baby fighting for her life, and showing the world what strength really is.  

I feel like my days of guiding you are limited.  I hope I am wrong.  I hope you always want your mom's advice.  But just in case, there are some things that are really important in life.  A few things I need to say. Some things I wish I would have known.  Some things that really matter.  Here they are:

*Put God first.  He will never steer you wrong.  When you have that gut feeling that you think you should follow, that's Him.  Just listen. And when you think He isn't there, He is.  Have faith.

*Don't chase them.  Boys, friends, family members, anyone.  Don't chase them.  For if they are worth chasing, you won't have to chase them.  What you will have to do is put in effort.  Relationships of all kinds take effort from both sides, but not all the effort from one side.  If they slip through your fingers, but are meant to have a permanent place in your life, they will come back.  And they will appreciate you even more than before.

*Be teachable.  If you know a million things, you can still learn from the person that only knows one thing.  Believe it or not, we aren't always right.  Be prepared to listen, and hear people out.  Knowledge is more than booksmarts.  And once you leave the realm of high school, this becomes more apparent.  Lessons are to be learned in everything.

*Don't take yourself too seriously.  If you don't laugh at yourself, they will laugh at you.  You might as well beat them to the punch.

*Not everyone will like you.  And that's ok.   Because you won't like everyone.  Find your tribe, love them hard.  It is literally impossible to be friends with everyone.  It is quality over quantity.  I would rather have a few really good friends, than a lot of people around me that I can't form a deep connection with.

One of the best scenarios in life, I heard recently from a good friend.  I will try to do the comparison justice as I retell it.  As we sat on the porch one night she said to me:  Life is like a tree.  You are the trunk.  Some people in your life are the branches.  These are the people that stay.  These are the monumental people in your life that have the most impact, and will never leave you until the day they die.  Other people, they are like leaves.  When a big gust of wind comes along, or the seasons change, they are gone.  They are the friends and relationships that are there for a little bit, maybe when things are good, and fun, but when a storm, or winter comes along, they shed themselves.  But those branches, they stay.  They are still there next year, even when the new leaves come.  You see, trees shed their leaves, and that's part of life, most branches stay intact for a really long time. but some of those branches, they are there for life.  Those branches are the ones you prune, and the ones you take care of, those are the ones that really make the tree beautiful.  

*Call your mom.  When you're sad.  When you're happy.  When you have exciting news.  When you are bored.  Call your mom.  I will never tire of hearing your voice.

You, my love, are one of the things I am most proud of in this life.  If I have done anything worthwhile in this, being a mom is at the top of that list. You are funny, and witty, and kind.  You love animals, and the elderly, and your family.  You love Pearl Jam.  The rest of your music taste could use some tweaking, but we have time to work on that.  But most importantly, you are STRONG.  You are a fighter.  I was just telling the story tonight of when you took your first steps.  Two and half years old, he picked you up out of my arms, and set you in the middle of the room, and told me not to run to you.  And you walked to me.  For the first time.  Crying, and scared, but you made it.  You made it across that room to the one place you felt safe.  I will always be your safe place.  You can always come to me.  No judgements, no I told you so's.  Only love, acceptance, and safety.  Believe it or not, I am still growing with you.  I still feel you.  I still hurt when you hurt.  That didn't stop the day you were born, it had only just begun.

I love you.  Happy birthday young lady.

Love, 

Mom

Mommin' Ain't Easy

Today was one of those mom days no one warns you about.  To be quite honest, it sucked.  It was one of those days where you want to run away, and not look back.  After you leave a list of what needs taken care of and maintained while you're gone, of course.

You know, a couple of years ago, I would have felt awful for admitting that.  Frankly, I probably wouldn't have admitted it. I would have felt like I was going to be judged for saying something even remotely along those lines.  And I'm sure there are people out there that will judge this post. But they obviously have perfect children.  Normally, I can find a way to laugh these things off, and somehow make my blogs about these kinds of things humorous, and today, I can't even do that.  Earlier this evening, I was talking to one of my old teachers, whom I have an immense amount of admiration and respect for, and she basically told me that as far as life goes, I'm killin it.... I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

My youngest has been sick.  Has had a fever off and on for 6 days now.  I've taken her to the doctor and got the standard, "it's probably viral and will have to run its course" and sent on our way response.  By now, day 6, she is sick of being sick, and I'm sick of her being sick.  Selfishly, I can't deal with the whining anymore, I have stuff I need to get done, and I want her to go play on her own, rather that wanting me to wait on her hand and foot.  I mean, I distinctly remember at least twice, looking at her, wondering if this is my karma.  Like, are we sure I'm cut out for this?  I. Need. A. Break.  And that's ok. 

I refuse to feel bad about the fact that I am human, and I have human emotions.  I don't know about all of you other moms, but being a mom didn't give me the super power of having and endless fountain of patience flowing from my inner self.  It didn't give me complete and utter selflessness.  And it certainly didn't give me and endless amount of energy.  See, in my opinion, there is far too much mom shaming that goes on in this world.  This expert says don't spank.  That expert says don't say "no", offer another option.  Do this, do that, don't do this, don't do that.  As mothers, we are told far too often how we are doing it all wrong, when in all honesty, we're all just winging it.  We are all flying by the seat of our pants, keeping our fingers crossed, and hoping for the best.  There is no such thing as a parenting expert.  How can anyone really be an expert at something where there are no two like subjects?  See, all of these little humans running around are actual people, with people emotions, and personalities, and no two humans are exactly alike.  And Moms, the same goes for us.  We're human.

I love these little turds, and don't know what I
would do without them.  Although sometimes
 I wouldn't mind an extended solo vacation...

I was given all of this advice when I was a new mom such as "never discipline when you're angry" or "never go to bed mad".  And quite frankly, that's bullshit (pardon the language, Mom).  Of course we're going to discipline when we're angry, and of course we're going to go to bed mad.  There's going to be times we even wake up mad.  And maybe even stay mad through out the whole next day.  Why?  Because we're HUMAN.  We can't control how we feel.  So stop feeling bad about it.  Feelings are the only thing in this life that are what they are.  You can't change them, you can't force them.  you can't control them. You can't just snap your fingers and be un-mad.  Now, we don't have to drag out the punishment for days.  Yes, when we wake up, tomorrow is a chance to start over.  But I have the right to still, in the back of my mind, be a little pissed off that my whole day off got ruined by constant fit throwing.  I'm salty.  So what???

When I wake up tomorrow, I will probably still be a little mad.  But you know what?  I will still love my kid.  And she will still love me.  I will still give her a kiss and hug and tell her I love her.  And she will do the same.  I will still tell her to have a great day, and mean it.  And I will not allow myself to feel bad about having a bad mom day.  It happens to all of us, whether we want to admit it or not.

My ultimate hope for my kids is that they always know, no matter what, I tried my best.  I'm sure that I have made plenty of mom mistakes, I'm sure I made a few today, but I'm doing my best. so to all you moms out there, you're doing a good job!  You're mazing, and beautiful, and someone out there is looking up to you right at this very moment.  Don't forget that!

But for now, I'm not going to worry about tomorrow. I'm gonna go pour myself a glass of wine, turn on some Pandora to angry rock and roll music, take a bubble bath, and try to forget this day ever happened. 

Why I'm glad my son finished last

We are a very busy family, and it seems we are always adding things to our plate.  I'm always all for the kids trying new activities, as exhausting as it may be.  For some time now, my son has been racing 4 wheelers with his friends, and has gone to the sand dunes on 4 wheeler trips, but today, he raced in his first official race.  He finished last.  And I'm glad.

Why am I glad?  Because look at that phrase "he finished last", and focus on that second word... "finished". He finished. 

Let me backtrack.  He and my husband got up and left before the rest of us.  I was running late, because I was searching for the bag chairs that our garage seems to have eaten.  I was rushing to get there by 10:30, the start time.  He was the 3rd race, so I had some leeway if I was a little late (which I chronically tend to be).  By 10:30 I got the phone call from my husband that I missed his first heat.  My heart instantly sank, I so badly wanted to be there on time to cheer him on.  Then, he proceeds to tell me that Gavin popped a wheelie, rode it out for about 5 feet, then flipped over backwards, he was ok, but complaining about his back.  The medics checked him out and told him that he would be a little sore, but would be ok.  I was then slightly relieved that I missed it, knowing my mom-stincts would kick in and I probably would have panicked had I seen it. 

When I got there, he was laying next to the truck with ice on his back, saying he wasn't going back out on the track.  There might have been a certain amount of drama involved in this, but it is hell knowing that your child is in pain, and you can't fix it.  The protective side of me wanted to say ok, and pack his stuff up.  But then I got myself in check.  I swallowed that fear of him getting hurt, and told him he was getting back on that quad, because we aren't quitters.  He was SO MAD.  He said fine, he would run in his next heat, but that this weekend was going to be his first and last race.  From now on, he just wants to ride for fun, and this wasn't fun.  His attitude continued to decline as he realized I wasn't backing down, and he was going to compete in his 2nd race. 

In all of the time that he has ridden 4 wheelers, he had never had a wreck.  We knew at some point in time it would come, and with the more confidence he gained in riding, and the faster he went, the worse the wreck would be.  I consider myself and him lucky that he hadn't gotten up to speed.  I'm glad he got that first wreck under his belt, and I'm also glad I wasn't there to witness it! But I know how easily he scares, and I knew this wreck was going to scare him from keeping on with something he loved.  If I let it.  And I wasn't going to let him quit.  Not until he at least knew what it felt like to cross that finish line.  If he still felt like it wasn't for him, we didn't have to do it again, but he was going to cross that line.

When the time to suit up came, he was so uncooperative, that my husband practically had to get him dressed in his chest protector, boots, and helmet, all the while, reminding me he wouldn't be doing this again.  He got on the quad, and rode to the gates, with words of encouragement from both of us. Just finish the race, buddy.  I reminded him he didn't have to come in first, just get to that checkered flag.  As he was lining up, I could see the nerves and fear in his eyes, and tried not to let him see it in mine.  The gates went down, everyone took off, and there he sat.  He killed the engine.  He got it started, went a few feet, killed it again.  I knew what he was doing, he was scared to give it too much gas and flip it over again.  Third time was a charm, and he took off.  Very slowly.  But he took off.  He rode around the first jump, rode over the next one very slowly, and started to pick up speed a little speed the further he rode.  By the fourth, and final lap, he was starting to actually jump some of the jumps and finally got all 4 wheels off the ground.  And he came in dead last.  By a long shot. 

And I have never been more proud of him.

You see, he was terrified to get back out on that track.  But he did.  And he did it with a huge smile on his face.  He was as proud of himself as I was of him.  He pushed through, and did something that scared him, and he didn't walk away from it because it felt uncomfortable.  And once he crossed that finish line, he proved to himself that he could do something that he thought he couldn't.  I chose not to look at it like he "lost the race".  He may not have come in first, he came in last, but he didn't lose, it was a win for him to get through it.  Not giving up paid off for him.  Huge life lesson learned.  And a pretty proud mom moment for me.  It was his first time out.  And because it was his first time out, I knew that if he didn't get out there again, he never would.  And he did it.  HE DID IT!  Coming in last was nothing to be ashamed of. 

Look at that smile, and all of that glorious boy dirt!

There was no trophy, and there was no participation metal or ribbon, but there was this:  Other riders in his heat came up and congratulated him on finishing his first race, and assured him that he did great for his first time out and for his age (he was racing against 14-16 year olds), and made sure that he was ok after his spill in the first heat.  Over and over again, he kept hearing, "But you got back out there and finished, and that's what matters", and "Good job, man!"  I think that made him feel much better, and less embarrassed about how he started out, and definitely eased the nerves about future races when he saw how nice and welcoming this racing community is.  That sense of pride, and accomplishment is better than any medal he could have gotten just for showing up.  Oh, and miraculously, his back felt so much better after his 2nd race, and he thinks he might give it another shot at the next race in two weeks.

To my sweet baby girl, as you start kindergarten

To my sweet, sweet baby as you get ready to start kindergarten,

Breckyn's pre-school graduation

It can't be time.  How can this be possible.  You are the baby.  Time wasn't supposed to go this fast with you.  I know it sounds so cliché, but it seems like just yesterday we brought you into this world.  Where has the last 5 years gone?  With your older siblings, I was excited for this milestone for them, and for you, I am just sad.  Because I look back and once they started kindergarten, time just flew by.  Everyone warned me, but you can never really fathom how fast it goes until you are in the throes of motherhood.  Now, your sister is starting her last year of middle school, and your brother, his last year of elementary school.  And before long, that will be you.  I promised myself with you, I wasn't going to make the same mistakes I made with them.  I was going to stop and enjoy the little things.  I wasn't going to be too busy to play board games.  I wasn't going to take the little moments that are fleeting, for granted.  I was going to soak up these years before you start conquering the world.  I was going to stop and smell the roses, per se.  I did.  And it still flew by too fast. 

I know you are busy, but will you please take just a second to crawl onto my lap and cuddle? Will you please just humor me?  I know you have things to do, and I know you want to go outside and play with your friends, but I just need a moment.  I want to kiss your baby soft cheeks.  I want to hold you until you fall asleep.  I want to listen to the soothing sound of you breathing.  I want to give you butterfly kisses, and hear that innocent, unapologetic laugh.  Because before long, the nights on the couch watching Nick Jr. will be replaced by sleepovers with friends, boys, school dances, and you hanging out in your room, rather than with Mommy. 

Most would say you are my karma, my mini-me, my payback.  Papa would say you are exactly like me at your age.  Maybe that's why I understand you so well, why I seem to "get it".  I want you to understand that all of those days, where I seemed frustrated, and where I was lucky to even get in the shower, I treasured those days too.  I am so grateful for every moment I get with you.  Don't get me wrong, your strong will has pushed me to the brink of insanity, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.  I know that some day, the house will seem to empty when I am not yelling at you to pick up your shoes, or tear down the blanket fort you have left up in the dining room for 2 days.  And the thought of those days haunts me.  For I know that it is on the horizon. 

You are my fashionista, my diva.  I know we will fight about what you are wearing, and letting me do your hair.  I know you will want to do it yourself.  I know we will fight about you getting up in the morning, and you will beg me for your signature "5 more minutes".  And I know this will continue through your teenage years.  I know this is exciting for you, and I want this for you.  This is natural.  But please be patient with me if I am a little sad.  If you are prepared, I am doing my job.  This is what I was put on this earth to do, to be a mom to you and your brothers and sister.  To prepare you for this big, crazy, sometimes very scary world.  I will try to put on a smile when you are modeling your new school clothes, and your new book bag, and at times, it will be a genuine smile.  But this is so bittersweet.  Before long you won't need me, but it is my hope that one day you will want me. 

Here are my hopes for you:  I hope no one ever clips your wings.  Fly baby girl.  You are my free spirit, my wild child.  But remember, not all who wander are lost.  Let that free spirit of yours guide you through great adventures in this life.  I hope you explore every inch of this world possible!  I hope you accomplish all you set out to do in this life.  I hope use your strong will for good.  You always seem to have a twinkle in your eye, I hope you never lose that.  I hope you always stand up for what is right or wrong.  I hope you are kind.  I hope I have set a good example of that.  I hope you are happy.  I hope you find your passion, and I hope you chase it, along with your dreams.  I hope that one day, you will experience the love I have for you, when you look into the eyes of your own baby, and see a reflection of the child you once were.  But most of all, I hope you know that I have poured every ounce of love I have, every fiber of my being, into being your mommy.  And I hope that you understand, that no matter how many years pass, you will always be my baby.   

Love Always,
Your Mommy

An Open Letter to my daughter, as she becomes a teenager

My sweet baby girl,

I know you're probably rolling your eyes (because by this age you have perfected that so well) at the fact that I just called you that, but that's exactly what you are.  My first baby.  And that's exactly what you'll always be.  I can't believe that my sweet little baby, that I brought home nearly 13 years ago is now entering into her teenage years.  And when you enter those adult years, and become a mother yourself, you will still be just that.  My baby.

I remember bringing you home after two weeks in the NICU, wondering how your life would be.  Wondering if you would even make it to 13, for that was so uncertain at the time.  Wondering if you would struggle more than most.  Wondering if you would have friends, or boyfriends.  Wondering how this big, mean world would treat you.  I had so much anxiety for you for these upcoming years.  Everyone always talks about, and it's no secret, the fact that middle school can be the toughest years of your childhood.  God, I was scared.  But guess what I have figured out?  Your teenage years are going to be freaking awesome!  Because that's exactly what you are... Awesome.  You will approach them with your contagious smile, your amazing sense of humor, and those big blue eyes, taking it all in, just as they have done since the day you came into this world.

While I know that you will take these tough years and make the best of them, like you do most situations, I also want to warn you that you will be facing some tough times ahead.  No one makes it out of these years unscathed, sweet girl.  Even the most ideal of childhoods produce less than ideal memories from this age.  You will fight with your friends, have your first boyfriend, break up with your first boyfriend, lose people you love, experience your first heart break.  And I will be there to hold you as you cry during all of this.  As long as I am walking this earth, I will always be a safe place for you to fall.

I am prepared for the fact that as you grow older, and your social life becomes more important, that movie and snuggle nights with mom will become less cool.  I am well aware of the fact that my opinion won't matter quite as much as it did a few years ago.  I am somewhat prepared for the fact that there may be a time where "I hate you" or other terms of endearment are thrown my way.  Why am I so sure these things are bound to happen?  Because I was 13 once too.  But just as I know they will happen, I also know that some day, you will chose to drive home from college to see me "just because".  I also know that you will beg me for a girls night or weekend.  I also know that you will someday call, crying telling me you're sorry for all of the times you told me you hated me, because you now realize how much I have loved you when you look in the eyes of your own children.  Why do I know this?  Because I have been there too, sweet girl.

The first time I ever held you in my arms.  A moment frozen in time

As each day closes in, I know that you are closer to becoming an adult, and you may not "need" me quite so much.  But I also know that you will some day replace that need with a want.  The more and more independent you become, you will need me less, for a time not want me at all.  But then some day, that pendulum will swing, and you will want me back by your side.  But we aren't there yet.  Right now we are in that transitional period that so many moms have warned me about.  The teenage years are supposed to be as trying, if not more, than the toddler years.  You were a very easy toddler, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that these teenage years don't break us!  But when you get to the point, and you feel broken, know that I am always here to help put those pieces back together.  Know that I will never let you completely fall apart.  Know that I love you with my whole entire heart.  Know that the first time I held you, was the first time my heart ever felt whole.  And it has been whole every since because of you. 

Please, go easy on me these next few years.  Remember, you are my first child, so being a mom to a teenager is all new to me too.  Let's forge this road, just as we have done all the others: Together.  Remember baby girl, It's us against the world.  Let's take it on.

Love,
Mommy

From the most precious little baby...

To the most spirited young woman I know,

Happy birthday baby!

What you have to know when raising a strong willed child, coming from one herself

I got spoiled with my older kids.  They were so easy, although I didn't realize it at the time.  Last but not least, came Breckyn.

For the past 4 years I have said if B would have been my first child, she would have been my only child.  Being the youngest of four, she has definitely been my challenge, and I guess many would say, my payback.  Time after time since she has been born, I have heard it said that she acts just like me.  And while many days I have felt like I want to either rip my hair out or overdose on happy pills, I can also say that I get her.

Being a very strong willed "child" myself, I can remember some of the frustrations of being a little

Here we have a ruffled sleeve shirt,

some Nike shorts,

and some ballet flats. 

Who says this doesn't go together?

person that has so many rules to follow.  Some of the most common fights can be avoided with her by simply picking my battles.  I have learned I can't put too many restrictions on the choices she gets to make.  One of the most common battles we have had is our morning routine, and deciding what we are going to wear.  I battled this for so long with her, until I finally just gave up.  I remember being younger, and laying out my clothes for the next day and hearing "No Cora, pink and red don't go together", and I've found myself saying very similar things to B in the mornings.  Then I remembered how frustrated I used to get by that.  To me, it didn't matter if it matched, I like the pants, I like the shirt, and I wanted to wear it together.  And today, many times I have heard my sister say that she never would have thought an outfit I bought looked good on the rack, but once I put it all together, she loved it.  Maybe in her mind, B is doing this too.  So one day, I let go.  I just let her wear it.  And the most miraculous thing happened, we had a good morning.  So I decided that's how it would be.  As long as it's weather appropriate, she can wear it.  Who cares if she looks like one of the kids that came out of a Gap Kids ad?  She's happy, and "expressing herself".  She's not hurting anything at all by wearing a pair of rain boots with a Christmas dress.  As of lately, we have been wearing our swimsuits to bed, and guess what?  The world is still on its axis.

I HAVE to answer her.  If  don't, she will just keep at it.  Fighting for her place among 3 siblings, sometimes I think she just wants to know she is important too.  I can't get away with just telling her to wait a second, or ignoring her until I get done with what I'm doing.  She needs to know, and she needs to know now.  It doesn't take that long for me to simply look away from what I am doing and give her an answer.  I don't have to give her exactly what she wants right then, but I do need to give her an answer and acknowledgment of what it is she is saying.  It may not always be the answer she wants, but I have learned that if I at least answer her, the meltdown lessens. 

To piggy back off of that, she needs explanations.  Simply saying "No" won't cut it for her.  It wouldn't have for me at that age, and it still doesn't work for me.  I want to understand reasoning for things.  If there is a reason I should or shouldn't be doing something, I want to understand why.  She is a little person, growing every day towards adulthood, so why shouldn't I help her understand things?  No, I don't cater to her, or bargain with her when she doesn't like the answer, I simply explain why it is the way it is, and most of the time we can just move on.  She simply wants to understand the way of the world, just like most of us (though little does she know, we will never fully understand how most things work the way they do).  Another thing that I can attest to from first hand experience, is that most of those famous Breckyn meltdowns come from frustration.  I know, because I had them, and sometimes still want to!  Strong willed kids are so black and white, that they just don't see why it can't be the way they want it.  You have to take the time to explain things to kids, and that some times things just don't go as planned.  I used to be that mom that would say I didn't understand why people would sit there and explain things to their kids after they had said no.  NO means no, right?  Why sit there and debate over it?  Don't let your kids be in control.  Tell them no, and let that be the end of it.  Well, for some kids, that's enough, but for B it isn't, and it helped me remember that it was never enough for me either.  Explaining isn't letting your child be in control, it's YOU taking control of the situation, and avoiding a meltdown, potentially in a very public place. Help them understand, and remove the frustration.

Pick your battles.  Every once in a while, you just have to give in.  You/I may be busy cleaning house, or getting caught up on binge watching Netflix, but it won't kill to me to stop and put in a Monster High DVD and watch it with her for a few minutes.  Besides, soon she will fall asleep because she has been going a hundred miles a minute all day, and some day, hanging with mom won't be cool.  When she is "bugging" me, hounding me about putting that movie in, what I really need to understand is that she is asking me for a few minutes of my time.  While she might be doing it in a very demanding manner, she is simply wanting me.  The laundry can wait.

On the flip side of that, you also have to be consistent.  You have to stand by your words.  If you say no, for whatever reason, don't go back on that.  If they aren't allowed to play outside for the night, don't give in just because they are pestering you about it.  If you give in once, they will see that, and never forget.  You will forever be pestered about changing your mind, because you've done it before.  Trust me, I know.  I did it.  They can be stubborn, but you have to be more stubborn.  You can win this battle!

My mini-me and I, having the time of our lives

Let them be them.  Don't dampen their spirit.  That strong willed nature, or stubbornness if  you will, will carry them through some down right hard things in life.  That nature may be what gets them through certain things that other people would give up on.  Very rarely will these kids take the easy way out.  They're
going to do something, or finish something, simply because people thought they couldn't.  They are going to try their hardest to prove everyone wrong.  And because of this, they are going to do great things.  These kids grow up to be leaders.  That can be good or bad, depending on how we shape them.  So mold them into something amazing, and they will do their very best to make you proud! 

I'm close enough to perfect for them

Sometimes, to call me a good mom would really be stretching it.  I slip, and have potty mouth moments in front of my kids, I laugh at inappropriate jokes in front of them, sometimes I'm even the one cracking them.  I break my own rules, I over sleep, I forget what day it is, I boycott cooking on Sunday nights, I forget to sign homework, I sometimes make them pack their own lunches, and sometimes I have my lazy days where I don't want to play outside.  On some of my days off, I'm lucky if I shower by the time I have to pick them up from school.

I won't even try to deny the fact that I have bribed my 3 year old with candy.  I have had countless moments where I had to eat the words "my kids will never do that", and I have been that mom with the screaming toddler walking through the mall.  I have also, in some of my weaker moments, given in to them because it was the "easier thing to do" and to keep them from a meltdown.  And, I have most definitely been embarrassed.  In one of my most embarrassing mom moments,  the baby pool was actually shut down and drained because my child used it as a toilet and shared his digested corn with all of the other swimmers.

But I try my hardest.  I do whatever I feel in my gut is the best decision at the time.  Sometimes it's not the right one.  That's the beauty of life, you live and learn.  And you know what?  So far, that's always good enough for them.  They have nothing else to compare me to, so in their eyes, I'm the best mom ever!  And I try my hardest to live up to the image they have of me in their eyes.  They're alive, and healthy, and well taken care of.   And I know that I'm at least doing an "ok" job, when at the end of the night, my nine year old boy wants to cuddle with me for the last few minutes before bed time.  Don't get me wrong, he would NEVER do this in front of his friends, and he will probably want to strangle me when and if he ever goes back and reads this, but I'm still his safe place.  And that makes my heart happy.

My dad loves music.  And I, ever his sidekick growing up, became a huge music fan myself.  There is a song by Alabama called "Close Enough To Perfect" that I have always loved.  Because if you really listen to they lyrics, it doesn't have to be just about a romantic love, it really could be about anyone you love. None of us are without fault.  And this song hits the nail on the head.  We are full of faults, but we are all worth loving.  Even us moms that mess up from time to time.

But even with all of my faults, my kids know I love them.  I tell them every chance I get. I know no matter what, I always have to keep trying to show them.  Because I will be the standard by which they parent.  Good or bad.  If nothing else, they will know what not to do because of my mistakes.  And I let them see me make mistakes.  I screw up, and they need to know that.  They need to know that it's ok to not be perfect.  It's ok to have squabbles with people you love, and resolve them, and at the end of the day, you still love each other.  I am not scared to let my children see me mess up, because even with all of my faults, I'm still close enough to perfect for them.

My bonus child

My "Bonus" kid 

One of the most challenging relationships I have in my life is the one with my step son.  When I say challenging, I don't mean bad.  It's just that as a step parent, I am constantly walking that proverbial "tight rope" or walking a fine line that I have to be careful not to cross.  It is, thus far, the hardest thing I have done in my life.  But it isn't without reward.  I love this little boy with my whole heart.  Logan came into my life when he was only 9 months old.  For a while, until his dad and I married, I was kept at arms distance from him, and it was hard to form a close relationship with him.  As time has progressed, things have gotten so much better, but it can still be hard.  And when things get challenging with him, my mind floods with all of the things I wish I could just explain to him, but don't, because at six, he would look at me like I grew another head when I was done with that conversation.  And also, I don't think it's anything he could begin to understand until he is a parent himself.  But if I could sit down and have that conversation with him, here is a bit of what I might say:

Son,

I never planned to have you in my life.   When I pictured my white picket fence life, I will be honest, you were never a factor.

I guess you could say you were a pleasant surprise in my life.  You didn't get to pick me, but I got to pick you.  When I chose to be with your dad, I chose to be with you as well.   And I don't know if you would have picked me, but you're stuck with me.

I do love you, so so much.  And I do consider you one of my kids.  But it isn't the same.  And it isn't the same for you either.  I wish I could say it was, but it is a different kind of love.  I didn't feel your every move inside of me.  I didn't know you before you ever took your first breath.  I didn't get to watch you take your first steps, or see the love in your eyes the first time you said "Mommy" and know that it was meant for me.  In fact, I know that love is meant for someone else.  I know that it isn't me you want when you are sick, or hurt. I know that when you come to our house, it is your dad that you're excited to see.  I have heard the comments about things being better at your mom's house, and I'm sure for you, they are.  And even though it stings a bit, they should be.  Because nothing is better than your own mom.  And I'm not her.  Nor will I try to replace her.  Just as I know my other childrens' step mother will never replace me.  I would never attempt to hurt your mommy like that.  There would be no greater pain.  I know my place.  Believe me, there are several people that like to remind me that certain decisions are up to your parents, and I know by they way they stress that word, that I am not included in that equation.  Don't get me wrong, sometimes it hurts.  Yes, I can admit, that as juvenile as it sounds, that even as an adult, I do get my feelings hurt.  Just as I'm sure that unknowingly, I will sometimes hurt your feelings.  Most days, I hope for the best, and pray that you just won't end up resenting me, but what I really WANT, is to some day have you look at me as someone you know you can trust, and someone you can count on, maybe even call me a friend.  Your triumphs, and all of your victories, I will have to cheer from the sidelines while your "real" parents get recognition for raising such a good young man.  By the same token when you mess up, (and you will, because you're a kid!) I won't get blamed!  You will be with your mom every Mother's Day, on your Senior Recognition Day, it will be your mom you give the rose to, and it will be your mom you dance with on your wedding day.  And I will cheer silently from the sidelines, still wanting you to succeed, and watch you soar.  And I will hurt for you when you hurt, knowing that more than likely, it isn't me you will come to for comfort.  But just know that if you do, I will be here waiting with open arms.


Cinderella ruined it for us step moms.  Because of that story line, step mothers have been viewed as evil for years now!  And I, like many others out there I'm sure, are extra conscious of making sure that we aren't viewed as the "evil step-momster".  There is this impression that we treat our children so much better, and the step child is pushed to the side and pales in the light of our natural children.  This is not true.  Most step parents I know spend time trying to make sure that they don't do this, in turn, walking on eggshells, or actually catering to the step child.  Every other weekend, we have to try to win you back over.  And by the time you finally warm back up to me, and start letting me back in, it's time to go back to your other home.  However, I know by catering to you, this isn't doing you any favors.  I tell your dad this, and I tell myself this countless times.  But sometimes I still find myself doing it despite my own advice.  I'm human.  I mess up.  And if you bear with me, I will bear with you, and we will figure this out together.  See, this is new territory for the both of us.  I have never been a step mom before, and you have never had one.  So this is a journey we will go on together, and we can learn from each other.

But just because it is a different kind of love, and a different relationship, doesn't mean that it isn't a special one.  The beauty of it is, there aren't any certain boundaries we have to have in our relationship.  We get to define it on our own.  So let's make it a great one.  Only you and I can decide what our inside jokes are, or what our special memories will be.  Just as I said earlier, you are a bonus kid in my life, and I can be a bonus mom for you.  And I promise to keep trying my best, as long as I walk this earth.  Because after all, that's what moms do for their kids.

Love,
Mommy Cora

Mornings: Something's gotta give

To say that I am not a morning person is an understatement.  Mornings are the bane of my existence.  My bed and I are really good friends.  And I always have a hard time leaving her all alone for the day.

I had a revelation this morning.  Part of why I struggle so badly in the morning, is because upstairs,  there are 3 sleeping angels, that as soon as they wake up and combine forces, become very familiar with 3 very awake little devils.  We have Gavin, who is always in a near coma state in the morning and is rather difficult to wake up.  Breckyn, who always wants "5 more minutes" in bed, and will literally run from me while I'm trying to comb her hair.  And Ashlynne, who does pretty well in the morning, minus the occasional changing of clothes because she looks like she got dressed in the dark.

The Cossel clan, doing our best to get along!

While driving them to their morning destinations, school and daycare, I realized something.  There is so much negativity coming out of their "sweet" little mouths.  We have one child poking the other in the back seat, which provokes screaming from the toddler, which provokes mutterings under the breath from the 12 year old, which in turn causes the three year old to start calling names, which causes the nine year old to antagonize her even more, which causes me to raise my voice, which causes everyone to either pout or cry, provoking more mubblings... It's a vicious circle.

And I'm going to put an end to it... one way or another.

One of my vices is that I sometimes have a bit of a potty mouth.  Ashlynne is pretty good about trying to keep me in check with it, always pointing it out while I have my usual fits of road rage.  She came up with the fantastic idea of making a swear jar for our home, where I have to drop some silver change into the jar each time I have a slip up.  Ashlynne would raid the change out of it from time to time to take to the school vending machines.  I however, feel that this swear jar should not only have to serve one purpose.  In an effort to make our entire house a more positive environment, and to preserve my sanity, I am going to make the little boogers/angels drop a quarter in the jar each time they are mean to each other.  And rather than let them raid the jar for change, and reward them for negativity, the money in the jar will "disappear" into our savings account to go towards a bathroom remodel.  I get the feeling that either the jar will fill up rather quickly, or the attitudes will change rather quickly.  I haven't quite figured out which way the wind will blow on that yet!

But I do know something, either I will be sane, or a few dollars richer!

The impact of one word

Well, coming up on Ashlynne's 12th birthday I am doing that thing I do every year, reflecting.  Reflecting on how much I, as a mom and as a person, have changed since she made me a mommy.

Have you ever stopped and thought about the impact that learning one new word can have on your life? Most words come and go in our lives rather casually.  Most new words are learned without really giving it a second thought.  Or other words that can have a huge impact on our life, such as cancer, or heart disease, diabetes, are words that are so commonly spoken, that we can't pin point when it was that they were actually learned or first spoken to us.  But on January 14, 2003, I learned a new word that would change the course of my life forever: Ichthyosis.

Ashlynne was a matter of minutes old before her doctor figured out what was wrong with her at birth.  And after phone calls were made confirming it, I heard this word for the first time in my life.  I didn't know right then the impact it would have on the rest of my life.  Oh how I began to hate that word!  I couldn't force myself to say it some days.  The anger that would rise up in me when I had to explain her diagnosis to all of the people in my life who had never heard this word was immeasurable.  I was so ANGRY!  I HATED Ichthyosis and everything associated with it.  I hated the doctors appointments, and the physical therapy appointments, and the lotioning, and the long baths, and the fact that my baby was in pain every minute of every day!  I hated that I had to explain that no, she isn't burned, no, she doesn't have milk on her face, that's lotion, no, she isn't dirty, in fact she's had 2 baths today.  I hated that she didn't walk until she was 2 1/2.  I hated that I didn't feel like I could go out in public with her without people making comments.  I hated all the well intentioned advice I got about trying shea butter, or some other concoction of lotions someone's aunt's neighbor had once tried.  For a time, I even hated God.  Why would he let my innocent, perfect baby go through all of this hell?!  She didn't deserve this!


Then I got myself together.
And I got myself educated.
And I connected with other families, and with FIRST.


Life gave me a huge slap in the face the first time I heard that word that at first was my biggest nemesis.  From the second that word was spoken, my whole world was turned upside down.  But as I became more involved with other families, my world began to right itself.  I started to realize that I could draw off of the strength of some of these amazing mothers that had raised very successful kids that didn't feel sorry for themselves.  Some of them had it way worse than Ashlynne and I, so what right did I have sitting around crying over what could have been? I needed to change my perspective.  I needed to start being thankful that things weren't as bad as they could have been.  "Could have been" could have been much worse than it was!  When I stopped and really looked, I had a huge blessing on my hands.  All of those appointments, they gave me time with her where my attention wasn't divided.  All of those baths, those were play time, and one on one time.  And there was a protectiveness, and a bond there with my little girl that no one could touch.  She looked to me to apply that lotion, that made her feel better.  I got to carry her around longer, when other kids were running around and didn't want to be carried by mommy anymore.  And the physical therapy, most of that she just looked at as play time!  This was MY girl!  And you know what?  She was awesome!  Even as a baby, I could recognize that she was a fighter.  Her will was strong, her sense of humor intact, and I had never seen a more beautiful, perfect child.  I started to smile when I saw the skin flakes on the couch, rather than be embarrassed that someone else would find it dirty.  I wore those Aquaphor and Vaseline smears on my clothes like a badge of honor.  Honor.  I was HONORED to be her mommy.

My anger dissolved, and rather than resent Him, I began to thank God every day that he trusted me with this little blessing.  I have always believed that God only gives you what you can handle.  And he doesn't always give you what you want, but more importantly, what you need.  And I am most certain that God realized that I needed Ashlynne as much as she needed me.  She has kept me grounded.  When times in my life were crazy, such as going through a divorce, or other major changes, her Ichthyosis forced me to focus.  I didn't have the choice to slack off, I had too much to do.  Being Ashlynne's mommy carried me through some of the hardest times of my life.  And I can only hope, the I can carry her through the hard times that are sure to strike her some day as well.  Not only did I draw off of the strength of the other amazing families I met through FIRST, but I also began to draw off of her strength.  If I gave up, or fell short, so might she.  And that is something I wouldn't be ok with.  For just as I imagined before she was born and the word "Ichthyosis" changed my world, I knew she was destined for great things.  This was one thing that Ichthyosis didn't change for me.  My girl was going to be an amazing force in this world.

Ichthyosis changed my world, but change can be good.

Welcome to Holland- a must read for EVERY parent

This weekend I had the pleasure of meeting another mom with a special needs child.  Her child doesn't have ichthyosis, but his is more a cognitive, emotional, and mental disorder.  I found myself amazed at the strength of this woman, listening to her story.  I was sitting there asking myself the question that I have had many people ask me, "How does she find the strength to do it all".  Then I remembered a short essay that one of Ashlynne's physical therapists gave me when she was just a baby called "Welcome to Holland" by Emily Perl Kingsley, and it reminded me of how we, moms of special needs children, do it.

I mentioned to her this essay, and she said she carries it with her every day, and told me that there is now a 2nd part that someone has added to it.  So, of course, I googled it.  I felt as if someone had reached inside of my head and plucked the thoughts right out of it to write this.  It was amazing to me how much someone who had never even met me could sum up my feelings, my life, in such a few, short paragraphs.

To sum it up, it parallels parenting of a special needs child with a planned dream vacation.  Your whole life (your pregnancy) you have planned this dream trip to Italy (said trip being raising your child).  Then, when your plane lands, and you think you're in Italy, all of a sudden they announce you have landed in Holland (Holland representing the parenting journey of a child with special needs), where you will stay.  And it is not at all what you planned.  But when you stop and look around, you realize the beauty there.
" "Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place."

The 2nd part discusses, as time passes, how the author has come to accept Holland as home.  I would never change my home in Holland for anything in the world.  I have met some of the most amazing people in my life because of this journey.  Relationships that I could never replace.  Relationships that I hope are as beneficial to the others as they are to me.  I never envisioned my days to be full of Aquaphor, and hours of bathing and lotioning, and multiple doctors appointments, and physical therapy sessions.  But I also, never could have envisioned, how much I would love this little person that depends on me.

2 of my travel guides through my own, personal, Holland

"I have become a world traveler and discovered that it doesn't matter where you land. What's more important is what you make of your journey and how you see and enjoy the very special, the very lovely, things that Holland, or any land, has to offer.

Yes, over a decade ago I landed in a place I hadn't planned. Yet I am thankful, for this destination has been richer than I could have imagined!"

To any of my friends that are struggling with raising kids, I want to say this:  I have 3 other children, and while rewarding as well, I can't say that I landed in Italy with any of them.  Parenting is hard,  Very hard.  It is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.  It is full of poopy diapers, vomit, sleepless nights, meltdowns, and fights.  However, it isn't without great joy.  I think at any given time, any parent may feel like they've landed themselves right, smack dab, in the middle of Holland.  So I recommend these essays to any parent.  And just remember, you're never alone in this journey.  Whether it's a child with physical disabilities, emotional/mental disabilities, or a typical kid, you're going to struggle.  But stop and embrace your own personal Holland.  God gave it to you for a reason.