I've run 10ks, I've run a half marathon, I used to run 9 miles every Saturday morning. I did all of this after becoming a mom of two. After finding out I was pregnant with #3, all day "morning" sickness, zero energy, and juggling my household responsibilities, and being a good wife and mom to my two boys, I let my fitness take the back burner and I really didn't mind. Running those races and preparing my body for them took a lot of time and energy that I needed to spend elsewhere. Since the birth of my 3rd child I have tried and failed to get back into running and working out more times than I can count. I'm not saying this time will be any different. I'm smarter than that now, however something has changed. Before when I was running regularly and in probably the best shape of my life, I was way too hard on myself. There is healthy pushing and then there is having to be perfect. Healthy pushing got me started and it was the unhealthy striving for perfection instead of enjoying the ride that ultimately got me injured before a big race and finally burnt me out altogether. Now I'm spending my time running to get reenergized to be that good mom and wife. I'm trying to be proud of running that 5k (which I'm still struggling to reach) in whatever the heck time frame I run it in. It's not about being the fastest or running the farthest. It's just about doing it and feeling good that I did and that's more like it!
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Run, run, fast as you can?
With the nice weather out I see lots and lots of posts and pictures about race day victories which I personally think is AWESOME! With that being said, I thought I might share a little something I've learned along the way on my running journey. I realize that no two people are in the same stage of life meaning their fitness aspirations and accomplishments will be totally different, and I believe in all of them. I am also proud of all of you no matter which stage you are in. Whether you are a decathlete or a beginner, I commend you. This is just my experience.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Goodbye 20's
I just had to share the fun of today and how I'm saying goodbye to my 20's. Last day being 29 has been AMAZING. We had my Part-time kids today, two boys ages six and three like my boys. We had a blast with everything from the superhero costumes we all hung out in, to creating our own Bat cave, to the wii dancing and racing, to the Go Fish game the four boys and I played, Lego building and lego superhero and villian play. In the afternoon my three kiddos and I enjoyed wooden building block race track construction and go cart racing. In the evening when Papa got home we had a classic Disney movie night in with pizza and beer (for papa and me). I'm feeling so blessed to have gotten these last thirty years as awesome as they have been even with all of the downs with the ups. One is only as old as she feels and today I feel like a kid! An added bonus for today is the cleaning up done by the hubby including making the dreaded bathrooms spotless! It was definitely on the bday wish list and he knows that I like to go into any special occasion with little mess and super clean living space to subside the OCD tendancies. I can honestly say I'm not surprised for his thoughtfulness. He makes me feel like its my bday everyday! Here's to the next thirty years being as magical and childlike as the last mixed in with a lot of love and laughter with family and friends. Tomorrow is the day I join the "grown-ups" in the thirty club. I have a feeling 30 is just a number...
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Leonard the Dog Bear
Leonard the Dog Bear is no regular stuffed animal. Leonard came to me at a time in my life when I was hurting from a broken heart. A friend of mine who could relate to the pain offered him to me for comfort. Now, a stuffed animal that was really hard to distinguish between a dog or a bear wasn't exactly what I thought I needed at the time, however, the gesture was definitely appreciated and it helped us to build a friendship. Although it was brief, the friendship helped me to hit a turning point in my life. I believe God puts people into our lives as Angels to guide us toward a better path for ourselves. This friend was that for me. It doesn't matter that we no longer have contact with each other because the purpose of that friendship was served. I do pray that I had something to offer my friend in return, and I am very thankful for her.
Maybe you are wondering where Leonard the Dog Bear got his name. In the beginning he was nameless. Just a soft cuddly stuffed animal that I had decided was a dog that sat on my bed in my parent's home. He reminded me of friendship and hope and it didn't hurt that he's incredibly snugly! After I got married, I took only a few "extra" things from my bedroom to my new apartment. He was one of them.
A little over 3 months after we were married, my Grandpa underwent bypass surgery. Obviously with it being open-heart surgery, it was a major deal, but I don't think any one of us were prepared for what would happen. As I write this I'm having a very difficult time finding the words to go through the roller coaster of emotions the final week of Grandpa's life. It has been just about 7 years and I'm still trying to block that week. When I let myself, I can remember every single detail, but that's why I've been holding those memories back. I can not allow myself to get too deep into it, but there are a few things I will share. We visited Grandpa the night before his surgery. Then he was shown a video about what the recovery would be like. It was suggested that he hold a pillow tight to his chest to help with the pain. The next time Fer and I visited it was after his surgery and he was doing well. As a little joke I dropped off the stuffed dog for Grandpa to "snuggle" to help his "broken-heart". Next time we went by, wouldn't you know it, he was holding that stuffed dog close to his heart to help with the intense pain. He said that it worked the best out of any of the pillows that he had because it was more firm. I was so excited, he even let me take a picture of him snuggling it while wearing those tights they use to help with circulation. He told me, "You better take a picture now because this is the last time you'll see me wearing tights!" I think I just might be the person in possession of the last picture ever taken of Grandpa, and I have never looked at it. I can't, it's too hard. That was the last real conversation I had with him. Shortly after he took a turn for the worse and just kept going downhill. This is so incredibly difficult to write, I cannot say anymore about the details of that week.
For those of you who knew my Grandpa, you will not be the least bit surprised by what I say. For those of you who did not know him while the earth was privileged with his presence, you should know that he was a stubborn, often times grumpy, hardworking, dedicated, honest, caring, loving, selfless, and faithful man. We gave each other a hard time, but that's how my family does it. When I was young I was told once by a family member that "you wouldn't get messed with if you weren't cared about." I guess my family loved me!!! Anyway, I'm not going to sit here and make a perfect saint of him. We all know, just like all of us, he had his flaws. However, I will say that he sure was something so amazingly special to me. He was Grandpa. He would take us to check cows sometimes. We thought it was awesome how we didn't have to wear our seat belts and could stick our hands (and sometimes heads) out of the pickup truck window as we drove down the country roads. He took us hiking where once I had my very first deer encounter. He started his own contracting/construction business and with his hard work and dedication made it successful. But not only that, his honesty made it thrive. The summer before my sophomore year of high school my brother and I were able to go on a mission trip that if it had not been for Grandpa and Grandma we would have never been able to go. They helped us out because they believed in us and in the cause. Because of them we had a head start on our journeys of faith. That was a trip I will NEVER forget and I worry now that I never told them how much my life changed for it and how grateful I am to them. My Grandparents have also contributed to putting young men through seminary, even making a trip to India to meet one of these men. There are countless memories of Grandpa and I could go on, but the point is, this human, this mortal was my superman once.
Shortly after Grandpa passed I remember asking my mom if it was possible to continue to grow in your love for someone after they were gone. She told me that it was absolutely possible. This happened for me. I had always loved that man, but no one seems to ever realize the good they've got until its gone. Maybe it's cliche, but it is so true. After he was gone from this world, I felt like I was searching for him everywhere. It is hard to explain. When he was living, we didn't live close by after I got married. It wasn't like we would run into each other places in our daily routines. But for some reason I always felt like he was around, and I would turn and look many times thinking he was there. All the while "knowing" he couldn't be. He was gone. Recently Fernando and I attended a parish mission at our church. The insightful speaker spoke about how those we have loved who have gone on walk with us, we just don't see them. But perhaps sometimes you can feel them. I LOVED this because I can NOT even tell you how many times I have felt him with me. We are closer now that he is in Heaven than we were when he was on this earth. One day very recently I was driving home, alone in my car when all of a sudden I knew he was there in the passenger seat. The last time my brother had been driving with Grandpa in the car, he was 15 and with a learner's permit. They were in an accident because Grandpa pretty much forgot he was helping a kid with no clue. Needless to say the only thing I could think was "Get out, Grandpa!" We had a good laugh. Then a good cry. I miss him. I know many of you reading this now miss him too. Thankfully, because of the man he was while he lived on this earth, we have faith that his is now in Heaven walking with us when we need it while we finish our journey here. I know he will be waiting for me when it is time, and I'm sure we'll have lots of things to give each other a hard time about. It'll be great!
As you most certainly have guessed, that man, my Grandpa, is named Leonard. My Grandma so selflessly gave the stuffed dog back to me. He instantly received the name Leonard. Leonard has been with us now since our family began. The first time I showed Leonard to Max, he instantly put his arms out and walked to him excitedly.
The first time Nico met Leonard he called him a bear and refused to call him a dog. He did however say that he was a Dog Bear, hence Leonard the Dog Bear. The first time Belle met Leonard she smiled the biggest smile and took him in her arms lovingly hugging it. I like to pretend that there is a little bit of my Grandpa in Leonard the Dog Bear. Grandpa came to play with Belle today. He's always on my mind, but even so much more lately. 
On February 2 it will the 7th anniversary of his passing. We may not have his body with us anymore, but I know that my babies have been with him and that he is with us now. Leonard the Dog Bear assisted in healing my broken heart once before. He assisted with the pain in my Grandpa's "broken heart". He is still here to mend our broken hearts. 
So we can enjoy the BEST DAYS EVER...
Maybe you are wondering where Leonard the Dog Bear got his name. In the beginning he was nameless. Just a soft cuddly stuffed animal that I had decided was a dog that sat on my bed in my parent's home. He reminded me of friendship and hope and it didn't hurt that he's incredibly snugly! After I got married, I took only a few "extra" things from my bedroom to my new apartment. He was one of them.
A little over 3 months after we were married, my Grandpa underwent bypass surgery. Obviously with it being open-heart surgery, it was a major deal, but I don't think any one of us were prepared for what would happen. As I write this I'm having a very difficult time finding the words to go through the roller coaster of emotions the final week of Grandpa's life. It has been just about 7 years and I'm still trying to block that week. When I let myself, I can remember every single detail, but that's why I've been holding those memories back. I can not allow myself to get too deep into it, but there are a few things I will share. We visited Grandpa the night before his surgery. Then he was shown a video about what the recovery would be like. It was suggested that he hold a pillow tight to his chest to help with the pain. The next time Fer and I visited it was after his surgery and he was doing well. As a little joke I dropped off the stuffed dog for Grandpa to "snuggle" to help his "broken-heart". Next time we went by, wouldn't you know it, he was holding that stuffed dog close to his heart to help with the intense pain. He said that it worked the best out of any of the pillows that he had because it was more firm. I was so excited, he even let me take a picture of him snuggling it while wearing those tights they use to help with circulation. He told me, "You better take a picture now because this is the last time you'll see me wearing tights!" I think I just might be the person in possession of the last picture ever taken of Grandpa, and I have never looked at it. I can't, it's too hard. That was the last real conversation I had with him. Shortly after he took a turn for the worse and just kept going downhill. This is so incredibly difficult to write, I cannot say anymore about the details of that week.
For those of you who knew my Grandpa, you will not be the least bit surprised by what I say. For those of you who did not know him while the earth was privileged with his presence, you should know that he was a stubborn, often times grumpy, hardworking, dedicated, honest, caring, loving, selfless, and faithful man. We gave each other a hard time, but that's how my family does it. When I was young I was told once by a family member that "you wouldn't get messed with if you weren't cared about." I guess my family loved me!!! Anyway, I'm not going to sit here and make a perfect saint of him. We all know, just like all of us, he had his flaws. However, I will say that he sure was something so amazingly special to me. He was Grandpa. He would take us to check cows sometimes. We thought it was awesome how we didn't have to wear our seat belts and could stick our hands (and sometimes heads) out of the pickup truck window as we drove down the country roads. He took us hiking where once I had my very first deer encounter. He started his own contracting/construction business and with his hard work and dedication made it successful. But not only that, his honesty made it thrive. The summer before my sophomore year of high school my brother and I were able to go on a mission trip that if it had not been for Grandpa and Grandma we would have never been able to go. They helped us out because they believed in us and in the cause. Because of them we had a head start on our journeys of faith. That was a trip I will NEVER forget and I worry now that I never told them how much my life changed for it and how grateful I am to them. My Grandparents have also contributed to putting young men through seminary, even making a trip to India to meet one of these men. There are countless memories of Grandpa and I could go on, but the point is, this human, this mortal was my superman once.
Shortly after Grandpa passed I remember asking my mom if it was possible to continue to grow in your love for someone after they were gone. She told me that it was absolutely possible. This happened for me. I had always loved that man, but no one seems to ever realize the good they've got until its gone. Maybe it's cliche, but it is so true. After he was gone from this world, I felt like I was searching for him everywhere. It is hard to explain. When he was living, we didn't live close by after I got married. It wasn't like we would run into each other places in our daily routines. But for some reason I always felt like he was around, and I would turn and look many times thinking he was there. All the while "knowing" he couldn't be. He was gone. Recently Fernando and I attended a parish mission at our church. The insightful speaker spoke about how those we have loved who have gone on walk with us, we just don't see them. But perhaps sometimes you can feel them. I LOVED this because I can NOT even tell you how many times I have felt him with me. We are closer now that he is in Heaven than we were when he was on this earth. One day very recently I was driving home, alone in my car when all of a sudden I knew he was there in the passenger seat. The last time my brother had been driving with Grandpa in the car, he was 15 and with a learner's permit. They were in an accident because Grandpa pretty much forgot he was helping a kid with no clue. Needless to say the only thing I could think was "Get out, Grandpa!" We had a good laugh. Then a good cry. I miss him. I know many of you reading this now miss him too. Thankfully, because of the man he was while he lived on this earth, we have faith that his is now in Heaven walking with us when we need it while we finish our journey here. I know he will be waiting for me when it is time, and I'm sure we'll have lots of things to give each other a hard time about. It'll be great!
As you most certainly have guessed, that man, my Grandpa, is named Leonard. My Grandma so selflessly gave the stuffed dog back to me. He instantly received the name Leonard. Leonard has been with us now since our family began. The first time I showed Leonard to Max, he instantly put his arms out and walked to him excitedly.
The first time Nico met Leonard he called him a bear and refused to call him a dog. He did however say that he was a Dog Bear, hence Leonard the Dog Bear. The first time Belle met Leonard she smiled the biggest smile and took him in her arms lovingly hugging it. I like to pretend that there is a little bit of my Grandpa in Leonard the Dog Bear. Grandpa came to play with Belle today. He's always on my mind, but even so much more lately. 
On February 2 it will the 7th anniversary of his passing. We may not have his body with us anymore, but I know that my babies have been with him and that he is with us now. Leonard the Dog Bear assisted in healing my broken heart once before. He assisted with the pain in my Grandpa's "broken heart". He is still here to mend our broken hearts. 
So we can enjoy the BEST DAYS EVER...
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
The Brown Chair
I've been feeling the desire to write this for quite some time now, but today I was truly inspired by some amazing women and awesome MOMS. There are many factors that when all put together make up the reason the blog writings haven't been happening regularly like I wish, and maybe some day I'll get the opportunity to write about it, but today I want to share this story.
As I have mentioned, today I was blessed with the opportunity to be in a gathering of some beautiful women. The topic came up about clutter and sentiment being attached to objects making it hard to get rid of things that perhaps should be let go. The thing that came to mind for me is the same thing that always comes to mind....the brown chair.
When I was a little girl there was one place where I could always count on finding my Dad in the evenings if I needed him. In our home we had a small living room made up of a rust colored floral couch, a matching rocking chair, and a super soft and cozy brown recliner. In the evenings (when Dad wasn't working nights) anyone could find him sitting in his cozy chair relaxing after a grueling day of hard labor. My dad has been a hard worker since he was a kid. First working on his family's farm, then working for my Grandpa building beautiful homes and other wonderful things, then working in factories, and back to building homes. Whatever it has been that he does, he has always put his all into it. So at the end of the day, it was only natural that he would be exhausted and take a break in his chair. Growing up I never thought about the hard work that he was putting into taking care of his family. I just knew that that is where he would be at the end of the day. There was always something so comforting about knowing he would be right there. (And we also knew that if we heard the sound of the footrest of the recliner going down that someone was in TROUBLE!!!) I have fond memories of my Dad reading bedtime stories to me in that chair. Eventually my parents remodeled the living room, getting new furniture. The only piece that did not go was that Brown chair. Dad had it moved to his bedroom taking the place of my great grandma's rocking chair which was only just moved to another room of the house. I remember when my dad had to have knee surgery and had to be out of work for a while to recover. When that happened I could still count on finding my dad sitting on that brown chair (it was only in a different location). When my bro, sis, or I were sick we were always quarantined to my parents' bedroom where we would lay in their bed or in the brown chair watching our favorite movies and cartoons. There our Mom would nurse us back to health. I always remember wanting to stay home one extra day from school so that I could rest a little longer in that chair.
Eventually, over the years, the chair began to wear down becoming somewhat of an eye sore. I don't know exactly how or when, but the chair was moved once more, but it didn't go too far. Yes, my mom finally was able to get it removed from the house, but only as far as my dad's shop. After many many years, my dad finally got to build something for himself again, the shop of his dreams complete with a storage room (bigger than my bedroom growing up) for my mom to keep her favorite things. Only for some reason I can't imagine that chair being in there for her. I came across it one day, having only slightly forgotten about it. I realized that they were in the process of getting rid of some things and I just couldn't imagine that chair not being in the family. So I rescued it! That brown chair migrated to our home. I placed it in the nursery where Nico was just a baby. Every night until he was old enough for his big boy bed I would rock him and read books to him. It was in that chair where we would say prayers every night. Today it is in that chair that I read to my baby girl, just as my dad had done for my brother and me, and where bedtime prayers are said before Belle's breathing gets even and she closes her eyes for the night.
That brown chair may not be as soft or as cuddly as it used to be. It might have settled into the shape of my dad or now in the shape of me. True, it has seen better days in the way that it looks and I've had to cover the seat with a crocheted afghan blanket from my paternal grandma to disguise the worn bottom. Sure if you put up the foot rest it still rocks and won't stay in place. But that brown chair is way more than just a chair. It is a place of love, prayer, comfort, healing. A peaceful retreat that not only reminds me of my dad, but is a pleasant reminder of my whole childhood and of growing up. It is a symbol of how things may grow old and change over time, while molding to fit perfectly to who one has grown to be. I was a baby being rocked in the brown chair, and now I rock my own babies in the brown chair. One MOM mentioned that sometimes she yearns to go back to the "simpler" life of childhood. That when you are young you don't have any clue how your life is going to be and you don't realize all of the complexities you will face. In a world that is constantly changing and can be scary, I relish the fact that I have somewhere to go that brings me back to the feelings of comfort from my childhood.
While around the brown chair I can feel its magic that can only come from all of the love that it has been exposed to. Every time I sit in its lap I feel I am able to fully take in the special moment with my child which is so important because these moments in our life are so incredibly limited. My babies will not be babies forever so enjoying every second that we can is imperative. I know it will not always be like that, we are human, but I'm blessed to have the brown chair as a reminder that even though all things change over time, with a little care and lots of love, they can still be great and make their magic! Kind of what some of us are like I think. We start out nice and neat, flawless, and we go through many ups and downs in life, sometimes getting thrown through the wringer. We can go about our world at a slow, steady, soothing rock, and then something comes and "rocks the boat" causing us to crash against the walls or flip us backwards. Just as the brown chair, we may be moved around and have to get used to different surroundings, sometimes being left in a place that seems to be dark and lonely. And then out of the blue someone or something comes along and seeing value in you, dusts you off and shines light into the world again giving you a purpose. When finally pulled out of that dark place, that special magic is there to be reignited and shared with others.
Even though this may be an odd metaphor for one's life. It seems to be relevant for me. For now I'm going to continue to enjoy every moment in the brown chair until it is time for it to move on. Although highly unlikely, perhaps one day it will bring fond memories of childhood to my own kids. Maybe they will rock their babies in the brown chair. Maybe another family will benefit from its magic. No matter what happens in the future, for the brown chair, for me, for my family, one thing is for sure; we will grow older, we will change, but we will do our best to continue to make each day the BEST DAY EVER loving, caring, and comforting each other.
As I have mentioned, today I was blessed with the opportunity to be in a gathering of some beautiful women. The topic came up about clutter and sentiment being attached to objects making it hard to get rid of things that perhaps should be let go. The thing that came to mind for me is the same thing that always comes to mind....the brown chair.
When I was a little girl there was one place where I could always count on finding my Dad in the evenings if I needed him. In our home we had a small living room made up of a rust colored floral couch, a matching rocking chair, and a super soft and cozy brown recliner. In the evenings (when Dad wasn't working nights) anyone could find him sitting in his cozy chair relaxing after a grueling day of hard labor. My dad has been a hard worker since he was a kid. First working on his family's farm, then working for my Grandpa building beautiful homes and other wonderful things, then working in factories, and back to building homes. Whatever it has been that he does, he has always put his all into it. So at the end of the day, it was only natural that he would be exhausted and take a break in his chair. Growing up I never thought about the hard work that he was putting into taking care of his family. I just knew that that is where he would be at the end of the day. There was always something so comforting about knowing he would be right there. (And we also knew that if we heard the sound of the footrest of the recliner going down that someone was in TROUBLE!!!) I have fond memories of my Dad reading bedtime stories to me in that chair. Eventually my parents remodeled the living room, getting new furniture. The only piece that did not go was that Brown chair. Dad had it moved to his bedroom taking the place of my great grandma's rocking chair which was only just moved to another room of the house. I remember when my dad had to have knee surgery and had to be out of work for a while to recover. When that happened I could still count on finding my dad sitting on that brown chair (it was only in a different location). When my bro, sis, or I were sick we were always quarantined to my parents' bedroom where we would lay in their bed or in the brown chair watching our favorite movies and cartoons. There our Mom would nurse us back to health. I always remember wanting to stay home one extra day from school so that I could rest a little longer in that chair.
Eventually, over the years, the chair began to wear down becoming somewhat of an eye sore. I don't know exactly how or when, but the chair was moved once more, but it didn't go too far. Yes, my mom finally was able to get it removed from the house, but only as far as my dad's shop. After many many years, my dad finally got to build something for himself again, the shop of his dreams complete with a storage room (bigger than my bedroom growing up) for my mom to keep her favorite things. Only for some reason I can't imagine that chair being in there for her. I came across it one day, having only slightly forgotten about it. I realized that they were in the process of getting rid of some things and I just couldn't imagine that chair not being in the family. So I rescued it! That brown chair migrated to our home. I placed it in the nursery where Nico was just a baby. Every night until he was old enough for his big boy bed I would rock him and read books to him. It was in that chair where we would say prayers every night. Today it is in that chair that I read to my baby girl, just as my dad had done for my brother and me, and where bedtime prayers are said before Belle's breathing gets even and she closes her eyes for the night.
That brown chair may not be as soft or as cuddly as it used to be. It might have settled into the shape of my dad or now in the shape of me. True, it has seen better days in the way that it looks and I've had to cover the seat with a crocheted afghan blanket from my paternal grandma to disguise the worn bottom. Sure if you put up the foot rest it still rocks and won't stay in place. But that brown chair is way more than just a chair. It is a place of love, prayer, comfort, healing. A peaceful retreat that not only reminds me of my dad, but is a pleasant reminder of my whole childhood and of growing up. It is a symbol of how things may grow old and change over time, while molding to fit perfectly to who one has grown to be. I was a baby being rocked in the brown chair, and now I rock my own babies in the brown chair. One MOM mentioned that sometimes she yearns to go back to the "simpler" life of childhood. That when you are young you don't have any clue how your life is going to be and you don't realize all of the complexities you will face. In a world that is constantly changing and can be scary, I relish the fact that I have somewhere to go that brings me back to the feelings of comfort from my childhood.
While around the brown chair I can feel its magic that can only come from all of the love that it has been exposed to. Every time I sit in its lap I feel I am able to fully take in the special moment with my child which is so important because these moments in our life are so incredibly limited. My babies will not be babies forever so enjoying every second that we can is imperative. I know it will not always be like that, we are human, but I'm blessed to have the brown chair as a reminder that even though all things change over time, with a little care and lots of love, they can still be great and make their magic! Kind of what some of us are like I think. We start out nice and neat, flawless, and we go through many ups and downs in life, sometimes getting thrown through the wringer. We can go about our world at a slow, steady, soothing rock, and then something comes and "rocks the boat" causing us to crash against the walls or flip us backwards. Just as the brown chair, we may be moved around and have to get used to different surroundings, sometimes being left in a place that seems to be dark and lonely. And then out of the blue someone or something comes along and seeing value in you, dusts you off and shines light into the world again giving you a purpose. When finally pulled out of that dark place, that special magic is there to be reignited and shared with others.
Even though this may be an odd metaphor for one's life. It seems to be relevant for me. For now I'm going to continue to enjoy every moment in the brown chair until it is time for it to move on. Although highly unlikely, perhaps one day it will bring fond memories of childhood to my own kids. Maybe they will rock their babies in the brown chair. Maybe another family will benefit from its magic. No matter what happens in the future, for the brown chair, for me, for my family, one thing is for sure; we will grow older, we will change, but we will do our best to continue to make each day the BEST DAY EVER loving, caring, and comforting each other.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Happy Birthday, MOM!!!!
Happy Birthday to the best Mom in the entire world! She has been the most amazing example of the Mama I want to be to my kids. Every day I realize that I am more and more like her, and you know what? I’m so glad. Growing up I thought that I never wanted to be like my parents. Now I see that everything that they did, all of the hard work and tough, but compassionate unconditional love was exactly how it should be to be a great parent. I’m well aware that God has blessed me way beyond what I deserve by giving me my mom. And in turn my children have been blessed with the BEST MEMA EVER!!!! It might irritate me sometimes to see that I’m turning into my mother, but that’s only my stubbornness coming through since I had “vowed” to never be like her. Man, when we are young, we are so dumb. If I could be half the mom she is, my kids will be blessed. I never saw her rest when I was little, and honestly, I don’t think I can remember her complaining about being tired either. That’s definitely something I need to work on myself! She would get up well before the sun, make us all breakfast of our choice, most times we all wanted something different. I’m not talking about her just putting a piece of bread in the toaster or warming up a pop tart or Eggo waffle. This amazing woman would scramble us eggs, make French toast, homemade pancakes or biscuits, omelets, you name it! EVERY SINGLE MORNING before school! Not only that, she was able to get our difficult bottoms ready for school and on the bus (most times before the sun came up as we had a LONG bus ride living out in the country.) She was able to get herself and the house ready by the time all of her kids came. She ran her own at-home daycare. I, to this day, cannot think of a single person who was/is better at taking care of children who are not her own. Actually, she felt like every one of those kids were hers and treated them so. She would spend her entire day not only giving those babies as much attention and care that they deserved and needed, but also she was able to somehow magically get laundry done, the house cleaned up, beds made EVERY SINGLE DAY, and manage to have homemade baked goodies for us for after school treats and for our lunches. EVERY NIGHT she would make a delicious home cooked comfort food meal and help us with our homework. By the time she got us in bed she was tirelessly finishing up cleaning the kitchen and starting her other responsibilities of packing lunches for the next day, planning upcoming activities, etc. This absolutely amazing woman (there are no real words to describe her) would make us hand crafted toys to play with. We may not have had a plastic kitchen set like they sell in the stores, but we had a mom who turned a plastic children’s table into an oven and stove with craft supplies around the house! She sewed us our very own Cabbage Patch dolls. She sewed us clothes, and she decorated cakes on the side!!!! Our Halloween costumes were mom and dad created, with my mom crafting them in her “spare time”. I remember when my sister was a “Dorito’s bag” one year. This was no cheesy half-assed Doritos bag. No pun intended. My mom made her a Chip face mask and created a bag for her body by using two poster boards. She even found a way to get a plastic front and put real Doritos inside. When she could have just drawn squiggly lines for the words on the chip bag, she took the time to write out everything from that bag. She wanted my sister to have the perfect original costume. And she sure did! It was awesome! That costume is probably still around somewhere. I even wore it one year as my costume. These are just a few of the countless things my mom has done, continues to do, and will no doubt do in the future. You see, now you know what I mean when I say that I hope to be even half the mom she is. When I was in high school, my mom did something else amazing. She decided to change careers. She was brave enough to go and learn something new. She became a certified Pharmacy Technician. She trained and studied and she was successful! I’m so so proud of her for having the courage to try something new. And now she and my Dad have been on their latest adventure of running my Dad’s construction company where she is the office manager. She has put her all into every single day of her life. Recently when she was faced with the obstacle of knee replacement, she confronted it head on and battled through the pain and frustration of not being able to get around like she is used to. It has been a huge struggle and very difficult, but again, that woman is amazing and is on the up side already. The doctors have told her the entire time that she’s ahead of the game. I wouldn’t expect anything less from her. I want to be JUST LIKE MY MOM when I grow up! |
| She truly is a ROCK STAR! |
I love you so much. You are such an inspiration to me and my little family. We wish that we could see you all of the time, but for some reason God has placed us a little ways apart. The distance may not be too far, but our limited time creates a bigger gap. Perhaps it is so that I can learn on my own to be the mom that I want to be, just like you have always been for me. I definitely still have those “I want my Mommy days”, and I’m so blessed to know that I can pick up a phone and call you. Hearing your voice has always helped me when I’m frustrated, sad, mad, happy, excited, etc. I always want to share my stories with you and you are always willing to listen no matter how ridiculous they are. You never make me feel like what I have to say is unimportant, even if I’m telling you the same thing for the 100th time. You have endless patience that I would LOVE to possess! While being a part of my MOMS group over the past few weeks, I’ve been reflecting on relationships, feelings, and friendships among other things regarding motherhood. I’m coming to realize that not only are you my mom, but one of my BEST FRIENDS! I don’t know what I would do without you. I’m so grateful for your spiritual nature. You have nurtured and taught your children to have a close relationship with God. You and Dad have definitely succeeded in this God given responsibility. Thank you for being you. Thank you for being a Mom to Fernando who deserves a Mom just like you! Thank you for being the most awesome, loving, spoiling Mema that my kids deserve. I’m missing you just writing this! When the time comes for me to take care of you like you have taken care of me my whole life, please know that I’m always going to do it with as much patience, love, and care that you have given to Angi, Jon, me, our spouses, and our own babies. Happy Birthday, Mom!
Thank You, God for giving us this amazing Mother who obviously has lived her life committed to her children and family similar to Your own Mother. Please continue to bless her and keep her strong to always follow Your path for her. Please help us to never take her for granted and to be able to show her all the love and compassion she deserves. Thank You for the BEST MOM EVER!!!!
Monday, October 22, 2012
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