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Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Ma Familia

With Thanksgiving and Christmas just around the corner, I find myself thinking a lot about my family. I realize that even though I reference them often, I haven't really talked much about my family. Not the one I have now, but the one I've always had, and grew up with.

I would say 90% of who I am was shaped by these people. With the other 10% being scattered between life experience and choices. Here's a little bit about the people I call "home."

First, my parents. They've been married for over 40 years now, and are still just as interested in talking to each other as the day they met. They have shown me what it means to be committed, through good times and bad, and I can only hope that I follow in their footsteps. My mom is typical and so special at the same time. She mispronounces celebrity names, always burns the bread, can strike the fear of God in our hearts with a single look and loves Lifetime movies and CSI. But she's also the most selfless person I've ever witnessed. That woman will do anything - seriously, ANYTHING, to help her family. She has sacrificed more than I will ever grasp, and only after I had a daughter of my own could I understand how much she embodies the true meaning of motherhood.

My dad is so dad-ish. Our phone conversations are limited to the weather, and when I last got my oil changed or how the baby is doing. He loves history, science, and sitting outside in the cool air with a bourbon and coke. He's very quiet, until he's not - and then watch out. He has considerably calmed in his older age, and even though he's strong and silent, I like to think I can always tell what he's thinking. I'm just like my dad. Reserved, clumsy and accepting. And for all of those traits I am grateful. Even being clumsy. A good bruise is a good story, and the little bumps make you more resilient, right?

My brother, Travis. The eldest, and the only boy, he silently suffered through his adolescence being surrounded by women. He's smart, kind, protective, and honestly the funniest person I have ever known. He loves music, independent films, and his wife and two daughters. He works harder than anyone I've ever seen. He'll always be on a pedestal to me. He used to rent movies with me every week and fall asleep on the floor when we were hanging out. He never treated me like a brat, even through our nine year age difference.

My sister Kerry. Kerry is a perfect combination of sensitive and strong. She's so busy. She works as a special education teacher full time, and on her "off" time, is usually scooting her two girls to a cheerleading practice or a birthday party. She is exhausted, and yet, whenever I call her she has time to talk. And more importantly, to listen. Kerry is a great listener. She never judges, and will stand her ground with you against anyone who has hurt you. She's the one I go to when I need help being a mom. She and my own mother are a combination of the mother I aspire to be.

My sister Katherine. Katherine is our family wild child, and our social butterfly. The life of every party, but also the one who stays to help you clean up. She has a million friends, but knows each and every one of them well. She's fiercely protective, and family means everything to her. She's usually the one standing along side me every holiday, keeping our traditions alive. She used to let me sneak into her room at night and watch Arsenio Hall. It was our thing.

My sister Deanna. Deanna has always been my mentor. She's smart, beautiful, funny and confident. She can and will do literally anything she puts her mind to. She's headstrong, and taught me one of the valuable lessons I'll always remember. "Never apologize for your feelings." I think about that, and I think about her. She indulged me in my silly little requests when we grew up sharing a room, like telling me stories of Disney World before I got to go see myself. Or doing monster checks in our closet, and listening to Mc Hammer and New Kids on the Block before we went to bed. She would also let me sneak into her bed every single night, even though she "fought it" and told me not to. She's the one I call when I need to vent, and when I need some strength.

So that's them. My family. The reason I love to go home. The reason my budding family is so important to me. The reason I am who I am. I can't wait to go home and see them all this holiday season!

Happy Tuesday!

Love,
Dominique





Monday, November 11, 2013

It's ok if you work really hard towards something, and then sometimes you don't want it. At all.

Sometimes the universe has a way of throwing a message to you in a way only you would relate to it. Often, mine come in the form of a line or a movie quote I didn't notice before in something I've seen a million times, that all of a sudden literally speaks to me. I try to take these things seriously, even if they aren't always coming from the most serious of mediums.

Today's particular lesson came from an episode of How I Met Your Mother. Yep, you heard that right. Now before you go criticizing me for blogging about an admittedly comedic television show, it has it's moments. And today's random episode that I happen to catch had a doozie.

If you're unfamiliar with it, the plot is far too long to explain, nor is it really even relative to my point. All you need to know if that one of the main characters, Lily, is a new mom. And she says something out loud none of us dare to speak:

"Sometimes I don't want to be a mother."

She doesn't say it sarcastically, or with any humor. It's a straight forward statement with golden globe worthy tears in her eyes. And I thought, "Wow. Me too." Sometimes I lament for the days when I could go home and veg out on my couch until I decided to go to sleep, or for even when I had the desire to buy clothes for myself. Or mostly, when I had money. Not a lot of money, mind you, but some. Enough for those clothes and whatever movie we felt like seeing and going to eat out once a week or so. 

Why do we, as mothers, feel so ashamed to admit this out loud? As if saying a statement like that would magically take back every painstaking hour that we spent mothering our children? 

Well I ask you this: Do you think a doctor has never had a day where they thought, "I don't want to be a doctor?" Just because we work so hard for something doesn't mean we have to be all in all the time. 

Being a good mother isn't easy. We have to care. We have to care SO MUCH. About everything. About what they eat, and how much, what they're wearing, what they're saying, what they're picking up and putting in their mouths. We even have to care about their poop. Every mother can tell you exactly what kind of poop is "danger poop."

And caring is exhausting. And let's be honest, sometimes not rewarding. News flash, not every moment of motherhood is rewarding. So your kid felt a little warm, and you rightly took their temperature, and they had a very low grade fever. What do you want, a medal? No one is going to thank you for that. And in all honestly, they probably would have been fine carrying on with that fever for a while until it went away on it's own. Disheartening, I know.

Not to say the little things don't matter. They absolutely do. But they may only matter to us. And our children. And you may find yourself asking why you even bothered sometimes. 

But we carry on. Just like anyone does who is doing something they really believe in. So next time you just want to exclaim "Today I wish I wasn't a mother!" Please call me. I'll say, "Girl, I hear you." and then regale you with tales of what I found in my daughter's poop.


Happy Monday everyone!

Love,
Dominique


Wednesday, November 6, 2013

My Spirit isn't broken, but it sure does feel sprained sometimes

I've been in a bit of a funk lately. Sure, most of you know about this blog through facebook, and my happy Funtober and most recently, my gorgeous posted professional pics of Miss V may show me as otherwise, but that's the whole thing about facebook, right? We only post our happiest selves. Did you know there's an actual study about social-media induced depression? It's true! But I digress.

The honest truth is that I certainly don't have it all together. Complete contentment with life is hard to come by, and anyone who tells you different is lying. Maybe only to themselves.

Sure, I'm happy. I can truly say that, maybe for the first time in a long time. My family has brought me joy is ways I didn't foresee possible. But sometimes I yearn for better things. Better job fulfillment, better wages, stronger friendships. I want to be stronger, both physically and emotionally, and I want to do it without lifting a finger or going through something so traumatic that I am forever changed. Is that so much to ask?! haha. Of course it is. We all have to work for what we want, even if we all sometimes wish that it would just happen if we will it to be so.

People love that quote "Be the change you want to see in the world." Whenever I see that on like a t-shirt or written in monotype corsiva in a pink block and posted to facebook, I always imagine the person posting it is thinking about people like Nelson Mandela or Mother Theresa. The big-leaguers who were striving to end world hunger and apartheid. But what happens if the change you want to see is just fair behavior in your office, or an end to all motherhood debates? I swear, world hunger seems easier to solve sometimes.

It's enough to get a workin' mom down. Lunch breaks spent at the pediatrician's. Sacrificing your "dedication" to your job that you can be home for the hour and a half before your kid goes to sleep to see them, or worse - sacrificing your time with your kid to get ahead at work. Factoring in the several vacation days each year that will actually be spent at home with your sick child, and calculating how many lunches you can skip to leave early enough to get to Mobile at a decent time when you do have to travel.

Alright, so those are very specific to me. Fair enough. But you get what I mean, right? I'm more imbalanced than even my lexapro can fix. It's hard, and eventually, it piles up on me. So I'm not perfect. Not that any of you thought I was. But I wanted to share my struggles, because as light-hearted as I like to keep things these days, this world bears on me like it does all others in my situation. And I need some prayers. And some help. And maybe someone to drink a whole lot of wine with, because Chris doesn't drink wine, and boy is it ever UNFUN to drink alone. And I promise to listen to you as you listen to me, and then we can move on the inappropriate subjects that are much, much more fun. And maybe watch 80s romantic comedies. Sound good? good.

Love,
Dominique