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1 Year

It’s been a year since we lost Ben. He would have been 9 months old. I find it hard not to think about how life would be if he was in it.

He would have an adoring older sister who would give him plenty of attention, love, and lots of kisses.

He would be crawling and using one of the cats as a chew toy.

He would have that adorably adorable drool dripping smile.

He would have irresistible chubby baby legs.

For the longest time I was internalizing the grief. But last week I started thinking about him and just sat where I had been standing and was crying for the longest time.

Even though we were supposed to box these up months ago, his clothes are still in my bottom dresser drawer. His crib bedding and swaddling blankets are still in the office closet.

My head is telling me it’s time to accept it and put away his things.

My heart is telling me it’s not ready.

*Just Breathe

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My Therapist Is On Vacation For The Next Two Weeks. I Apologize In Advance.

I was at Target and as usual, bought much more than I planned to. You go to Target for a bottle of shampoo and end up spending $200.

After getting the things I needed, I got the hummingbird some new clothes, My Little Pony socks, and a freaking Frozen comforter. For no reason whatsoever! We give her treats occasionally for doing well in school, keeping her room clean for a week (that lasted less than a day), putting her plate in the sink, etc.

But I’ve been noticing that it’s been happening more often and I realize that I’m spoiling her and need to stop this shit.

I started to wonder if it’s because she’s an only child and I’m trying to overcompensate? Or parents of more than one child can indulge their kids too and it doesn’t matter if you have 1 kid or 4.

The other part of it is spoiling the hummingbird came more often after we lost Ben. At the time, I was so far off in my head and emotionally wasn’t there like I should have been. That’s when the treats started to become more frequent. My husband has been doing the same thing since.

I know the only way to solve this is to quit buying all this crap I’m spoiling her with. It’s one of those things that’s easier said than done though. But I really need to come up with some boundaries.

Do you treat your kids? How often? Is it only for special occasions or can it be random?

*I’ve read this back and it might not make any sense. I just don’t want to raise a spoiled brat. So, I wanted to know if you do the same with treats or if I should put the brakes on it, etc.

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Thank You

I’ve been having a really tough week with depression and even though you may not know it, I wanted to say how much I thank you, all of you, who reads my nonsensical writing.

Taking the time out in your busy day to read my blog is something I greatly appreciate, more than I can put into words.

For the past 4 years, you have helped me deal with issues just by me being able to write about them and I hope in some small way, I have helped at least someone out there by being so honest with my feelings.

I know so well what it’s like to feel alone… different from others. So, the thought of possibly having even one person feel more “normal” helps me. Needless to say, I don’t like to sugarcoat things for that reason.

If you ever feel even the tiniest inclination to reach out to me for any reason, to vent or just write to feel better, ANY REASON at all, whether or not we are strangers, please don’t hesitate to email me…. elle.mommyhood@gmail.com.

I’ll be there to listen. If it takes me time to answer, know that I’m crazy busy or scatterbrained… as usual.

So, in my usual long-winded way, THANK YOU! <3

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Throwback Thursday: My Beautiful Mom And Snazzy Grandfather

When it comes to me and having my photo taken, it’s not a good mix by any means. Even when I was a cute kid, I HATED having my photo taken. Even now, I edit my pics if I share with someone. My aunt was the same way.

Pretty much every photo I have of her has her avoiding the camera or turning her face so you couldn’t see her. Haha! It must run in the family.

Anyway, for the past 15 years or so, I’ve been telling my husband that I want to organize our big ass box of pictures and put them into photo albums. Someday, I really want to pass them on to the hummingbird.

As I was looking through the photos, I found a photo of my beautiful mother and my very snazzy maternal grandfather. He was the coolest grandfather ever, the best.

He passed away when I was only 15 and I think about him every single day. We spent the day together one day during the summer and his last words to me were “See you soon! Two months later, he left this earth.

But, I have my beloved photos of him and will forever keep him in my memory and think of him always. He had a tattoo on his arm that he got while in the military that I thought was so cool. He fought in World War 2, was part of the Flying Tigers, and was a police officer.

My family didn’t have cable but he would put a video in his VCR (fuck, I feel old), and record hours of MTV for me, back when they actually played music videos.

He would do those little things for me that I greatly appreciated. I love him dearly.

The little hummingbird has been told plenty about how wonderful her great-grandfather was. I hope she learns more about him as the years go by and see just how special he was.

My incredible grandfather.

My incredible grandfather.

 

My beautiful mother.

My beautiful mother.

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I’m Finally Ready

Well, as ready as one can be after losing a child.

After we lost Ben, it took some time to receive his ashes. When we finally got them, we quietly decided that the best thing to do at the time was to lock them in our safe.

While we didn’t speak the words, I think it was mostly because we weren’t ready to accept it. So there his ashes sat, locked away along with our feelings about such a tremendous loss.

Recently, I felt it was time to take them out. Time to slowly face what happened, as difficult as it is.

The loss is too great and I still can’t seem to find the words to express my grief.

The pain comes in waves and I think the reason that it happens that way is because if grief came all at once, it would be too overwhelming to handle.

Too heartbreaking.

So much more heartbreaking and devastating than it already is when dealing with this grief every day.

But I’m finally ready to take this first step.

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The Trash Can Dance Off

oscarthegrouch1When my husband and I first got married, it was a really tough adjustment living with someone else. But we were in (mostly) newlywed bliss. Despite the several polite, newlywed fights, followed by the make up sex, rinse and repeat, we could do no wrong in each other’s eyes. Even when we wanted to kill each other at times.

About a year after we married and he graduated college, he joined the Navy, went to OCS, and came back home 3 months later. We soon hauled ass to Georgia where he went to school for 7 months. During this time, the newlywed bubble seemed to be popping and that’s when I noticed that my “perfect, could never do anything to annoy me husband” started to do those little annoying things.

When it came to taking out the trash, we were both stubborn as hell and still are. Hence, the trash can dance off.

You may know it. The trash can starts filling up and you stick your foot in it to smash it down and there you are with one foot in the trash can, one foot on the floor, and you may even add a little wiggle while weighing your foot (while wearing shoes) on the trash, stuffing it down as far as you can.

Because you don’t want to be the one to take it out. I leave feeling satisfied that I won’t have to deal with it, only to find out the next morning that he seems to have done the same thing. That’s when we know, without ever speaking about it, that the trash can dance IS ON! This game has been played between us for many, many years.

I’ll spend the day stuffing the trash down, certain that when my husband gets home, he will see it bursting at the seams and will take it out. My husband will come home and be certain that I’ll see that the trash can is bursting at the seams and he’ll think I’ll end up taking it out.

I’ll see the trash can right before bed with the lid poking up as if to say “Please, please one of you stop this silly shit and take me out! I’m going to explode!” I think to myself “There’s no way my husband will be able to put anything else in it the next morning.” And I will be certain that a fresh, new trash bag will be in it by the next day.

Nope.

That butthead is trying to out trash can dance me!! I’ll stuff it down even more with my foot but the lid isn’t having it and still pokes up. Fine, then I just won’t throw anything away today.

But even adding one tissue or paper towel to the trash makes the trash can wave the white flag and surrender. Damn it! Okay, okay, I’ll take it out this time.

But the next time my husband and I have a trash can dance off, I will win.

Oh yes, I will win!

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Our little strawberry picker.

averystrawberry11

averys1ststrawberry11

*Soul One

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