My husband pointed out that our daughter has only been around for 2 months and I’ve dedicated a whole blog to her, but we’ve been married over 2 years and haven’t written anything about him. I told him that I have written about him, just in a more indirect way. He wasn’t convinced. So, here’s to you, dear husband of mine.
It’s nothing short of a blessing to have a good spouse. Considering all the crazy, disrespectful people that seem to dominate popular media, it’s amazing to have someone that is sane (got to have that) kind and generous. Regardless of if we’re all willing to admit it, everyone wants to be loved and accepted. Everyone wants to do good things, and get recognition for it. Everyone wants to speak kind words and hear them returned. Everyone wants to give out love and receive it back. It’s our hearts’ natural inclination to do so. We may try to cover it up with baser things, but sooner or later, needs must be met.
I gladly confess that you have helped me to meet those needs. I consider myself equal to those that balance the emission and consumption of love like the scales of justice. They’ve found their comfort. I’ve found mine. And though this comfort is not always comfortable, it is sturdy and safe. I pray we enrich each other like the fruit and the soil, each giving of itself so the other can thrive.
And then there’s Zara. No transition needed. She’s that sweet little chocolate drop we call our daughter. We’ve been entrusted to raise her right, and I do believe I’ve been wise in my choosing. She looks like you and laughs like me so she’s already showing us how we affect her. She’s already producing the familiar energy that we gifted her in the womb. I love her because I love you. I love you because I love her. The cycle is mesmerizing.
I say it a lot so you won’t forget. I say it a lot so I won’t neglect. I love you. I love you. I love you.
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I’m really new to this mom blogging thing, but I’ve noticed it’s pretty normal for moms to put themselves down…a lot. I consider it normal to have moments of self doubt, as evidenced by my Fat Cow Moments post, but to regularly talk down about yourself is not cool.
It doesn’t matter if you’re a SAHM who’s lost contact with most of her friends and rarely sees the light of day. It doesn’t matter if you’ve lost your girlish figure and have been trying to get it back for the past decade. It doesn’t matter if you’re divorced (and kind of bitter) or single (and kind or bitter) or married (and kind of bitter). Love yourself and the wonderful children you’ve been blessed with, even if they do terrorize your house.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make changes in your life, but complaining about it and making yourself the butt of jokes doesn’t change anything. If you’d like to get out more, lose weight, go back to school, get a man (or lose a man), do it. Of course, it’s a lot easier said than done, but it’s not impossible. Make it a priority in your life the same way you’ve made your children a priority. If your daughter needs new slippers for ballet and you don’t have the money, you find a way to get them anyway. If your son needs you to pick him up from school because he’s feeling sick and you’re in the middle of something important, you find a way to get there anyway. We make time for the things that are important. If you’re important (and I know you are) then make time for yourself and begin to reach for some of those goals that you’ve abandoned. It’s your life and no one else’s. You have the responsibility of making it what you want!
It’s raining this morning. My husband seems to think it’s a bad thing. “I hate rain,” is what he said. I told him that rain is a blessing and without it everyone and everything would die. He wasn’t that impressed. Oh well. Maybe he’s just in a grumpy mood this morning.
Zara, on the other hand, is not in a grumpy mood. She woke us up this morning with a medley of her favorite songs (all of which she wrote herself). She noticed that we weren’t responding to her sweet tunes, but didn’t give up. She sang even louder, in the loudest voice that an 11-week-old can muster. She’s always so happy and positive.
And I pray she stays that way, always able to find the silver lining. I want her to grow up and appreciate the rain, despite isn’t reputation. I want her to be able to extract the good from any situation and take it with her, creating a protective barrier against the many forces in life that tend to bring us down. It’s so easy to get caught up in the muck of stress, anxiety, anger and jealousy. Maintaining a constant goodness about yourself is harder, but well worth it.
Twenty years from now, when she’s grown and maybe thinking of starting her own family, I hope she continues to sing, even when no one is listening.
My attempt at singing in the rain
So, I guess this title is pretty harsh, but, really, I think it’s kind of fitting. Or maybe video ho-in-a-box is better. No? Still, too harsh? Well, I don’t know what to call it, then. All I know is it’s not appropriate for little girls. A scantily-clad, makeup-covered doll that comes complete with her own bling? What a perfect way to advertise sex and materialism to our daughters.
What ever happened to dolls that look like this?
I used to LOVE my cabbage patch doll. Now, dolls look like you have to show ID just to buy them. This, on top of shows like Toddlers and Tiaras
, is a recipe for disaster. Childhood should be a time of fun, learning and innocence, not mini skirts, blush and mid drifts.Why is there such a rush to grow our girls up?