Intentional Living: Part One Year End

I ended 2019 in an actual fog of gratitude and grief. The year itself hadn't been all bad, and was poised to end on a high. I was happy and content. I had survived the transition into middle school with my tween. I had just about made it through the holidays. I was ready to have that Holly Jolly Christmas I hear about on the radio. 

Two days before Christmas my beloved grandmother had a massive stroke. Catastrophic is what her doctor called it, and within hours my family and extended family was navigating a huge loss. I did my best to keep it together for my children, who honestly were more concerned with Santa finding us if we traveled on Christmas Eve. It wasn't easy and I found myself constantly repeating "grandmas dying" in my head, as if I wasn't completely drowning in that thought already. 

Those days between Christmas and New Year's, the days that most of us hibernate, were spent reflecting on my year. I spent hours on social media reading articles to jump start the year. Not because I'm of the "new year, new me" mindset, but somewhere I was hoping to find some motivation. What did I want to do with my brand new year? Who did I want to become? Everything I read didn't feel right, didn't exactly fit well. Until I stumbled upon this article about ending the year intentionally. 

It's easy to be blinded on all the folks on social media with their "New Year New Me" diets and work out regimens. The multiple posts about being your best self, building your best self, finally taking chances. I wasn't ready to "bet on me" or "do the things that scare me". I really needed to reflect and find some clarity while I was so overwhelmed with grief. It helped me examine the last year with new eyes and find some good when I was feeling so bad. 

10 Questions to end 2019 Intentionally (These questions are totally paraphrased. Please visit the article for the real deal.)

What makes this year unforgettable?

Obviously the standout was my grandmother dying at the close of 2019. Just writing it in my notebook made it so real, but also opened me up. I was able to think about other things that made the past year unforgettable. I stayed married. You can laugh all you want but every year I stay married is a victory in my book. The Husband and I have had some hard years in the last part of the decade. Closing this year and decade married was a success in my view. My girls grew and thrived. They danced more, and enjoyed themselves so much. Caitlin completed elementary school and went on to middle school. There were so many changes and then when I think about it not that many. Our trip to Disneyland was pretty amazing too, so I'll add that. 

What did I enjoy doing this year?

Going gray. Honestly letting my hair grow in it's new natural color was liberating. I've been trying to cover my gray hair consistently since I was in my 20s. I was at the point that I needed to touch up my roots every three to four weeks, I just couldn't do it anymore. I gave myself six weeks to let it grow and decide if it was the right thing for me. I spent countless hours on Instagram looking at the SilverSisters hashtag. I'll admit, it was rough at first, people asked a lot of questions, it seemed shocking for someone my age (41 by the way) to not cover their roots. Finding the right mix of shampoos and conditioners helped. After years of using boxed dyes, my hair was so damaged, it was starting to fall out. The best part of the entire thing? I wasn't hiding anymore. I was constantly preoccupied with covering my roots. Every big event, every photo taken, I worried that my roots were showing. So I gave up, and set myself free. It has been the best thing I've done for myself in years. The added perk? I get compliments on it all the time. To the point that I've been asked for my colorist's number twice!

Who/What am I grateful for?

My health. My family. My friends. I am surrounded by amazing people. I'm so grateful for them.

Biggest Win this year?

I made it. Emotionally. Financially. It seems simple, but these are two of my biggest stressors. 

What did I read/watch/listen?

Read: Daisy Jones and the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid. Summer of '69 by Elin Hilderbrand. One Day in December by Josie Silver. All excellent. Daisy Jones is written in a way that as a writer was inspiring. Summer of '69 was such a fun read and had some historical elements that I loved. Plus I'll read whatever Elin Hilderbrand writes, so... I read one day in December last January. It was the first book I read last year. It was everything you love about Holiday Rom-Coms. If you love Nancy Myers, you will love this book. 

Watch: The Handmaids Tale, which, as always, was thought provoking, infuriating, and completely engaging at the same time. Elisabeth Moss is everything. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel is so well written and incredibly funny that I'm convinced that Amy Sherman Palladino is too good for us. Plus the ensemble cast cannot be beat! Side note: I binged watched the West Wing last year. I think I was the last person on Earth my age who had never seen it. I'm not going to lie, I loved it with my whole heart. I cried almost every episode, and it made me yearn for 90s politics, and I never thought I'd say or type that!

Listen: Lizzo and Bille. There were no others. 

What impact did these read/watch/listen selections have on you? 

What is fantastic about reading, watching, and listening, is that they essentially doing the same thing, telling a story. The books I read last year inspired me to write, but also inspired me to really listen and engage in the stories being told. The shows I watched were not just entertaining but thought provoking. The Handmaids Tale remains the scariest thing on television! Lizzo showered me and my daughters in girl power. I am constantly surrounding myself with pop culture, because it's always an inspiration. 

What did I worry about the most? How did it turn out?

Money. I'm constantly worried about money. Which is funny because my husband's long running household chore is being in charge of the bills. Still, every swipe, every withdraw for "dance" incidentals, makes me sweat. It always turns out fine, but it will always give me anxiety.

Biggest Regret?

Before December 23rd, my answer would have been completely different. I would have said not submitting any of my writing. I would have said not writing and blogging more. But now, as I start 2020 it's not spending enough time with my grandma. I regret not calling her more. I regret never getting her life story down on paper. There are many regrets at this time.

What is the 1 thing I changed about myself?

As I said before, my hair. It changed me emotionally as well as physically. It helped me embrace aging. The old commercial about "growing old gracefully"? Well they didn't mention that you'd have to be graceful emotionally as well. That's been harder than the physical part.

What surprised me the most?

That 2019 closed A DECADE. Ten years. I didn't even realize it until all those "Last 90 days" posts on social media. So many incredible, heartbreaking, mind numbing, brave, ugly, happy, sad things happened in the last 10 years. I changed as a person multiple times. I became a mom of two in the last decade. I went back to work, quit, and then went back again. I became a blogger and a writer. I grew into motherhood. I grew into my marriage. I stumbled and got back up again. So much life was lived in what did not seem like ten years. 

If I could go back to January 1st, 2019 what would I suggest to myself?

Call Grandma Now. Write every day, even when it hurts. Exercise in any way, walking is still moving. Take more pictures, your Instagram is looking sad girl! Be easy on yourself, it has never been about perfection. LOVE, LOVE, LOVE. 

After years of neglecting this space, I'm thankful if you found your way back and had a look around. I'm hoping to visit this space more often in the coming year. 

The "last baby" turns four

"But the last one:

the baby who trails her scent

like a flag of surrender through your

life when there will be 

no more coming after ---

oh, that's a love by a different name."

-Barbara Kingsolver

"The Poisonwood Bible"

Tomorrow is Mac's fourth birthday. Fourth. It doesn't seem possible and at the same time it  seems completely normal. Mac is now at the age where she wants to know what she was like as a baby. How did I look mommy? What did I do? What was it like when I was born?

How do you tell you child that the day she was born was the best and possibly the worst day of your life? How do you explain the absence of pictures in her plastic cradle in the hospital? How do you explain the absence of pictures with friends and family celebrating her arrival? You can't really. You just give her the story that she wants. The one that she can understand.

So I tell her that she was born on a clear Monday morning, at seven twenty four. And that mommy stayed up all night waiting for her. And when she was born she was so small that even the doctor was surprised. She had the smallest nose, and the tiniest fingers. And when the nurses wrapped her tightly in the stripped blue and pink blanket that she looked like a doll, no bigger than Daddy's brown football that sits on the chair by the sliding glass door. I tell her that she slept most of the first night, and that she slept on my legs, as I lay in bed, watching her so closely as if I had never welcomed a newborn into the world before. I tell her that I loved her instantly and that for lack of a better song, the only one I could think to sing was Hey Jude by the Beatles. And since I have a terrible voice I whispered most of it as I held her as close to my heart as I could.

I leave out the scary parts. I don't tell her that mommy could have died that day. That it took the doctors almost five hours to stop the bleeding. That my soiled bedding ended up weighing almost as much as she did. I don't tell her that I cried, and grandma cried, and that Daddy spent almost three hours alone with her in a recovery room with an empty bed. I don't tell her that my life flashed before my eyes, like a cruel slide show, showing me all the things I loved about being mother, as I woke from the anesthesia. I don't tell her just how close we came to losing this life, that after four years, we take comfort in and take for granted.

One day, possibly when she has children of her own, I'll tell her how she saved me. How she taught me just how wonderful it is to be a mother. How she was able to show me and make me believe that I was a good one. The kind of mother I always wanted to be, and quite possibly the kind of mother I was from the very beginning. I'll tell her that I'm a better person for being her mother, and I'm a better mother to her sister because of that too. I'll tell her that with every year she gets older my heartaches for that tiny bundle of joy, that I finally got to hold after the longest day of labor and delivery. That by the time I really got to look at her the sun was clouded by grey skies, and my arms almost too weak to hold her tightly. I'll tell her that once I got her, in that room well after three o'clock in the afternoon that I didn't want to let her go. Not for nurses, or Daddy, or Grandma. That today, I still don't want to let her go.

One day I'll tell her that her birthday will always be bittersweet. There will always be big parties to celebrate her and the gift that she is to us. But there will always be a quiet celebration for me. Celebrating the precious life I'm so happy to be living. Celebrating the second child I wasn't sure I wanted. Celebrating the discovery of the absolute joy motherhood can be. And it will also be a day to remember that she is my last baby. And she does trail her scent in everything that I do, into every aspect of our lives, reminding us just how amazing life is, and bringing joy to all the chaos and to all the ordinary.

Tomorrow she will be four. And I will tell her that on the day she was born I watched the sun rise over the mountains behind the hospital as I waited for her. While Daddy napped, and Auntie and Uncle broke every speed limit from Tulare to Fresno. I'll tell her that sister drew her pictures, and that Grandma was one of the first people to hold her. I will tell her that the day was perfect.

Because it was. And it is. Happy Birthday Mac.

Happy, happy birthday, Bloggy {three years and counting}

Today my little bloggy that could will be three.  THREE.  When I started this adventure in Internet land, I never once imagined that I would still be pounding the keys three years later. This has been a labor of love.  This blog has taught me things about myself.  Things I would have never discovered if I hadn't taken a chance that day.  There is a lot of talk these days about screen time.  Spending too much time in front of a screen and away from my family.  But in my defense, this blog has made me a better mother, a better wife, and a better person.  I can find lessons in the mistakes I made.  I can take to my laptop and type away a confession, an admission, an apology.  This blog has turned into my therapy, my drug, my happy place, my calm.  I'm so thankful for it every day.
Over the last few months I've been going back over the blog posts from my first and second years.  I cringe at some of my posts from the first year.  I can see the novice, the voice that wasn't quite as steady as it is today.  My second year posts had a stronger voice, a little more sure of itself.  And last year, with a voice strong and loud, I took chances on my writing.  I still wrote with force, I still wrote with honesty, but I let a little bit of my fearfulness go.  I said things that I may have been afraid to say in the past.  I cussed more.  Dropped a few more eff bombs.  I talked about delicate situations, and sometimes I gave away too much information.  I went out on a few limbs, sometimes on tiptoe.
And I survived.  
This blog has survived too.  Survived my thirst for followers and not readers.  Survived my focus on ads and self promotion instead of writing.  Survived trying to present content I thought was wanted in the blogging world.  This blog has survived those three years of finding my place on the Internet.  And trust me it's a small little place I carved out with the help of some really great friends.  But we all know this space has never gone viral, and to be honest it may never.
But this is my place and I'm so happy to be here.  I'm so happy that you are here.  This year is going to be quite different.  I'm working now.  The blog is taking a backseat to other things in life.  Like life itself.  I'm working on other projects.  Projects that I've been thinking about launching for the life of this blog.  Thanks to this blog, I have the confidence to do that now.  I'm a little nervous about the year to come, but I can't stop writing.  I can't stop coming back and letting my heart bleed a little at this keyboard.  Words are my oxygen.  I need them.
Like I've said again and again, I'm so thankful for you.  You, reading this right now.  When this blog was born it had five readers.  One of them was my mother, the other my best friend, and a few others along the way.  That's a big change from what this blog sees these days.  I've made some lasting friendships via this blog.  Friends that I have never met, never hugged, but I know the days that their sons and daughters were born.  I know that their son lost a tooth, and their daughter likes purple glitter polish.  I know how sad they were when their grandpa died.  I've prayed for them, cried for them, laughed with them.  They are real friends, in real time, because despite the absence of a hug, they have touched my heart.
This year I have so much to celebrate.  Three years filled with words and stories and love. Three years of connections and friendships and a shared community.  Three years of finding my voice, finding my way, discovering me.  Three years that confirm this is exactly what I should have been doing all along.  Writing.  Living.  Loving.  Laughing.  Three years, and counting. Thanks for stopping by today. Here are a list of my favorite blog posts from last year. Keep in mind I wrote 234 in all. Enjoy To remember, to regret, to renew The Mother/Father Double Standard Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting When motherhood gives you the middle finger Twitter will not destroy my marriage I before we, except after kids We have to save each other WTF is happy hour? The Raw Chicken in the Room Cactus Panties Spilled Milk A Hundred Years War No Air No F**ks to give The Dinner Party (a short story)

Dear Megan, aged 17

If you can't already tell, I've been suffering from writer's block this week.  Not anything major, just overwhelmed by life and the mess of it.  I've been on the go,  I've been crafting, and let's be honest here I've been playing candy crush and stalking some of you on Instagram.  Here is another repost that originally appeared on Confessions of a Semi-Domesticated Mama over a year ago.  

And who knows I may have posted it here.  

So I hope you enjoy some of my old stuff, 

even if you have been reading for awhile.  

XOXO

Dear Megan, age 17

You are going to think this is crazy, but I'm you.  Seventeen, or so years from now.

I know, I know, you don't want to hear it, because you are smarter than me.  Let's be honest, you think you are smarter than everyone.

Such attitude, 17 is serious business.

Well honey, you're not.

You think you suck right now.  You think that your differences set you apart.  That you are strange and ugly.  You think that because the boys aren't knocking down your door, that that means you suck.

On the contrary that's what makes you incredible.

Trust me.

I know you put up a nice front.  That you are strong and tough, that nothing can hurt you or touch you.  Nice try, I know what's going on.  And trust me.  I'll never forget what you are feeling right now.

Here's what I want to tell you.

Mr. Right now, is actually Mr. Wrong.  Be grateful.  What you think is love, is literally high school.  Sure he is what you think you want, but he doesn't want you and that's the toughest lesson to learn.  Learn it, embrace it, and be better for it.  I'll let you know right now, that you eventually do this, and you are just fine...

The next few Mr. Rights are Mr. Wrongs too.  Sorry, just a warning.

You are not going to make it to Berkley.  You are not going to major in Poly Sci with a minor in Women's Studies.  You will not go on to design a skate punk line for girls... I know, I know, majorly crushing your dreams.

YOU WILL, go to college, and even join a sorority... Hear me out, now.  It's an amazing group of women, who will help you find your true self.  Who will love you even though you are dressed like a skater the first night they meet you.  Who will walk next to you through every major milestone in your life. 

YOU WILL, find Mr. Right, and he will be Mr. Right, but that road will not be easy and you will work very hard on that relationship.  But you are passionate and only your best self with him.  Don't even think about looking for him now.  He will come to you when you least expect it, and you will be wearing little make-up and a hat, but he will call you anyway.

YOU WILL marry a registered republican, who will someday drive a gas guzzling SUV, and makes fun of you because you will one day ask him if you need to compost.  He will not like the Beatles, he will have no idea who the Descendents are, and will only like Blink 182s new stuff.  Deal with this.  HE IS IN FACT THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE. 

This is you and the hubbs on your
7th Wedding Anniversary.

YOU WILL HAVE BABIES and they are beautiful and give you a renewed life.  I know you hate kids now, but somewhere about 25 you will change your mind about procreating.  Everything you thought you knew about love and devotion will go out the window with motherhood.  I'm just warning you now.  This will change you, the amazing part is, you won't care.

This is you and your babies at the beach (2011).
They are your heart and soul.

MOTHERHOOD WILL BE THE HARDEST JOB YOU HAVE.  You will think you suck at it.  Well this might actually be a good thing to mention now.  How you feel right now at 17 about yourself, you will feel all over again at 29 with a newborn.  This too will pass, and you will find your way.  Take my advice.  Ask for help.  Lean on people.  Let it go.  Be the mother you want to be, not the mothers you read about in the books.  Those books suck and don't tell you the nitty gritty on what to expect.  Expect exhaustion, expect a landslide of emotion, expect joy and liberation.  Expect to love and hate it at the same time.  And expect to want to do it all over again, ten fold.

So now I will close by telling you to LIVE THIS LIFE.  Even when you think it sucks.  Don't give up on you.  Be grateful you are living it.  Dreams change, people change, goals change.  So let go, and be.  Let go and do.  Let go and thrive.  Don't be scared, be excited.  This life is all we never dreamed of.

It's more!

With Love,
Megan, aged 35 and counting

Farewell Summer

I had a feeling that this summer was going to be huge. Jam packed with adventures. Days spent in the scorching Fresno summer sun.

A big birthday.

A few vacations.

A much needed time to reconnect.

What I didn't know that there would be so many firsts. Milestones that were expected but brought unexpected joy.

Milestones that made me sigh in relief, but also made me long for  summers of the past. Summers that were slower. Summers where we were still little. This summer was the bridge that took my kindergartner to first grade.

It was the summer that took her from counting her age in years on one hand to two. It will be the summer she will remember for all the growing that she did.

It was a summer spent watching Mac carve out a little independence.

Deciding that dance classes were fun.

Taking a chance on school. Surviving an extended weekend without mom and dad.
This summer is the one I will remember for late nights in our driveway.

With friends that became family.

Planning adventures we would never forget.

And making major life decisions that would change everything.
This is the summer I will not soon forget. The one that reminded me of who I once was.

The one that reminded me how to have fun again. The summer that gave my marriage a chance to exhale.

Farewell Summer. Thanks for the memories.

A Summer of Firsts

Why is it that when your five year old turns six, the world suddenly changes? Life is nothing like it was this time last year. No year ever is, but there is something to be said about that magical year, when your baby isn't a baby anymore.
Before this summer we knew nothing of the joy of a lost tooth. The smile with a window. The excitement and anticipation of a Tooth Fairy Visit. We knew nothing of the pride one can have when you pull a tooth out yourself. And are rewarded for your efforts.

It was a summer to make major decisions. To pierce or not to pierce. That was the question. And the day we turned six we made the decision. With hesitation from Daddy of course. And tears for less than a minute.

This summer was a summer to take chances. Did we have the gumption to try a bike without training wheels? Could we keep trying, pushing through the fear? How long would it take to ride a bike like the big kids? An hour. It took an hour to go from training wheels to two wheeler.

This was a summer to try new things. To conquer fears head on. The movie theater seemed an impossible goal. Always sensitive to sound. Forever afraid of the dark. But we were determined to make this the summer of firsts. So with cotton in Mommy's purse and a Dr. Pepper in our hand, we took a chance on Planes. With wide eyes we got through the previews. With wider eyes we watched our feature. And before the movie was over, a little voiced whispered, Can we come back for Smurfs 2?

Absolutely.
Because a summer of firsts is just the beginning of a life time of memories.

In the moment {lessons in motherhood}

Every once in awhile, I'm reminded of the treasures of this life.  We can get lost as we weave through the days of endless laundry, dishes stacked sky high, and toys that seem impossible to pick up.  We forget that many of our ordinary days, are sometimes magical in a child's eyes.  They won't remember the kitchen table covered in books and last nights dinner dishes.  They will remember covering the mess in newspaper to paint before breakfast.  They won't remember the dishes stacked on the counter, but they will remember the bowl you always use when you make cookies, at eight o'clock on a Wednesday.  It's the every day occurrences that make up childhood memories.  
Monday was one such instance.  I had lunch with friends, while the girls played at my grandmother's house.  The day was stifling hot and humid.  Sticky arms and legs.  No breeze for miles.  We came home to a cooler house and gray skies.  I got dinner ready, and tried in vain to pick up the endless toys that continue to parade in our living room.  Distracted I thought I heard the Hubbs roll the trash cans into our side yard.  I checked the window for his car, but no car.  Then I heard the noise again, and looked out the window again.  
Rain.

Hot, humid rain.  Ninety three degrees and pouring hot rain.
I opened the door and yelled for the girls.   You've got to see this!  It's raining!!   IN JULY!
Then Caitlin asked, "Can I touch it?".
Absolutely.

In my past mothering life I would have thought about dry dirt caking on damp legs.  Wet  t -shirts and shorts dripping on my already filthy floors.  Mac and Cheese on the stove, threatening to boil over.  Chicken in the oven, threatening to burn. Who has the time to dance in the rain?
In my new mothering life, we do.

My girls have been my greatest blessing.  In the past six years, they have taught me to let go.  Let the rope out a little.  Take a chance on fun.  Leap before I make a list, plan the leap, and pack some snacks.  To open my heart and my eyes to the every day occurrences that make up this chaotic and precious life.  
Because if I blink, hesitate, or pause for a moment,  I just might miss the happiest six year old, dancing in the rain.

Wore: Memories of Home

All photos provided by Laura Hernandez Photography

Facebook/Business

There is something pleasant and simple about going home.  I tend to forget how much I love my birthplace until I'm back.  It's easy to love Salinas California in July, when you live in Fresno California in July.  Besides the beautiful weather, the less than 20 minute drive to the ocean, or the sweet smell of the strawberries straight from the fields, there is no place like my first home.  I'll admit that I took complete advantage of it in my youth.  So naive to all it had to offer.  Hidden treasures I didn't value at the time.  

Now, in this season in my life I'm so grateful for the blessings it brings me.  My grandparents who shower my girls with love and food that I remember from my childhood.  Nothing compares to freshly made tortillas or my Grandma's famous rice.  Watching my children play in the backyard where I once played as a child.  With some of the same toys, and all of the same joy.  Walking on the wharf with my girls and my dad, the same walk my dad and I made for years.  I now see it with different eyes, I feel it with a fuller heart.  Having picnics on a little sliver of beach tucked away from the masses, just enjoying the sand, the sea, and the sun.

On this last trip home I even got to catch up with a precious friend from high school.  After all these years, seeing her brought the same comfort it brought all those years before.  We are completely different people now, and yet completely the same.  Seeing her, was food for my soul.  Sharing breakfast with her, stories about our kids, our marriages, our lives, was a blessing.  To still have her in my life is a blessing.  How lucky we are that things like miles and years cannot change the connection of friendship.

Home is where your heart is, and sometimes if you are lucky, 

your heart can be in two places at once.

Six {on the twenty sixth}

Six

Six years since becoming your mommy.  Six years of challenges, blessings, and life lessons.  

Six years of love and laughter.  Six years to learn how to really treasure you.

Five

Five things to come this year for your.  Pierced ears (fingers crossed Daddy says yes).  

First grade.  New friends.  More teeth to loose.  And don't tell Daddy, but Disneyland!!

Four

Four things I love about you.  

Your mischievous grin.  When you read out loud to me.  

Your amazing fashion sense.  Your kind heart.

Three

Three birthday wishes for you.

Bows that don't snag your hair.

Your first grade teacher of choice.

A year full of fun, and that you will remember it always.

Two

Two birthday gifts you can't live without at six years old.

The Monster High build a monster add on pack in Siren, which is a mermaid.

Clothes from your favorite store Justice.

One

One wild and precious life.  One beautiful child that I have been blessed with.  

One day at a time for us since day one.  One mom, and one life, reborn the same day as you, 

completely transformed. 

Because there is only one you.

Happy  Birthday Caitlin, with my whole heart and my whole life.

This post was inspired by Amanda. Read her post here.

Rebuilt {by motherhood}

source via Pinterest

Every year since the birth of my daughter Caitlin, I get emotional and teary eyed as June 26th approaches.  It is the day that I became a mother for the first time.  Scared and excited I pushed with all my might, and was rewarded with a beautiful bundle of joy.  The story of my life was being written before my eyes.  Here was my baby in the baby carriage.  Every year I wish I could go back to that moment, the one where they put a wide eyed Caitlin on my chest, and bottle that feeling.  The feeling of hope and optimism, the feeling of joy and excitement, the feeling that I did this.
It wasn't long before I realized that those feelings were gone.  That this job was going to be the hardest of my life.  That my life was no longer my own.  I was terrified.  Of just about everything.  Of her, of her cry, of her tiny body that wanted every ounce of me.  I was overwhelmed, I was exhausted, and I felt so alone.  I knew I had to be the only one messing this up royally.  That I knew nothing about motherhood.  Nothing good anyway.  I knew that my job as mom was bound to be a bust.
But as the sleepless nights started to wane, the crying easier to identify, and the child, so beautiful, began to smile I realized that this was the only job for me.  This was what I was destined to do.  Even though I had never wanted to do it.  Being a mom was on my short list if I'm being very honest.  I was always about career, lifestyle, I was always about me.  To a selfish extent.  It helped that I married a wonderful man, who wanted to be a dad, who painted a wonderful picture of what our family could become.  It didn't take long for me to want to be a mom, but I didn't know how fully I'd want to be one.  With her birth, Caitlin showed me that I wanted to be a mom with my whole body, my whole heart, with my whole life.   And again I was terrified.
Perhaps Caitlin was sent to rescue me.  To challenge me.  To show me what unconditional love looks like from both sides.  Perhaps she was the one challenge I needed to be a better person, let alone a good mother.  It has taken some time for me to really see myself in her eyes.  And I strive every day to be the person she sees, the person she needs, the person she loves.
Six years ago, motherhood rebuilt me and the foundation of my life.
And I'm incredibly thankful.

Milestones

In my early days of motherhood, milestones were like Olympic medals.  It seemed as if every day, from the very beginning, we were in a race to complete and conquer each milestone.  From breastfeeding to sleeping in the crib, to solid foods, to bottle weaning.  Milestones were not only a hard ran race, but they were also highly competitive in mommy circles.  What I didn't realize then was that the milestones slow down.  They almost come to a halt.  And while your child is still growing and maturing, they are not conquering life at the same pace as they used to.  They may begin to read.  They may recite and sing Taylor Swift songs.  They may even dance their heart out at their dance recitals.  But the big ones...  The first big ones, like first steps, first time on the potty, or first day of kindergarten, those all sadly come too quickly and fade too fast.  
That brings me to one of our last big firsts.
Last Friday night Caitlin lost her first tooth.

I should say that she pulled out her first loose tooth, because that is exactly what she did.  It was funny and sad and bittersweet all at the same time.  She had been begging me and the Hubbs to pull it out, at a constant rate for almost an hour.  The begging and pleading, and we of course refused.  First because, we didn't think it was quite ready, and two, we knew without a doubt it would bleed, and she would loose her proverbial sh%t.  So we told her to be patient and work it with her tongue.  Well that wasn't good enough for her, because within the hour, she pulled that puppy right out.
"Mom, Mom, MOM!", she screamed.  "I pulled out my tooth!!!  I really did it!!!".  Then with fear in her voice, "Is it BLEEDING???!".
It was, and of course I told her it would be ok, we just had to rinse out her mouth.  And she was trying so hard not to cry, but a few tears escaped, and a few of mine too.  This was one of the last milestones for this child for awhile.  Loosing a tooth is the last in a long line of milestones.  As I watched her rinse her mouth, and cup the tiniest tooth I have ever seen in my life, my heart hurt a little.  It took me back to a cold January night close to six years ago, when an infant Caitlin cried and carried on.  A baby who was just inconsolable.  With parents who were total rookies.  And before we could really panic, there were 2 perfect little white mounds on puffy, pink, bloody gums.  That night seemed so long ago in comparison.  Here I was with my almost six year old and her tooth, the one it seemed she just cut yesterday, in the palm of her little girl hand.

Like with everything in this house, we were not quite prepared for the Tooth Fairy.  I had been browsing Pinterest for weeks for a tooth pillow.  Still hadn't made one.  No big deal right?  Felt, glue gun, and some old buttons, we got a pretty hip tooth pillow for my big girl.  The Monster High theme was her idea, of course.  There is nothing like hot gluing a tooth pillow at 10 on a Friday night to confirm that you are indeed a mother.  And not just any mother, but that mother, who despite your best efforts, still doesn't have it together all the time.  Yet, like with all things I've learned as a mom, it all worked out fine.  

I think it's funny that my girl was concerned with getting her picture on Facebook.  She wanted to make sure that we told everyone!  I also thought it was great that she was worried that the Tooth Fairy would not know she lost her tooth.  Mom it's so late, how will she know.  I told her that the Tooth Fairy is on Facebook, and she checks all the posts that use the words "lost tooth" or "tooth fairy".  That's how she knows when kids loose their teeth.  It worked.  We made sure to post extra pictures too just in case.
No one can really prepare you for motherhood.  No one will ever really know what will cut your mothering heart to it's core.  Sometimes it's a lullaby long forgotten.  Maybe a misplaced lovey at the bottom of a closet.  Or maybe it's just a memory, so long ago, that makes you think back to a time you just wanted to get through, and never really thought about savoring.  
Not this time.  With this milestone, we took it all in.
And I was finally at a place that I could enjoy every single minute of it.