Valentine's Day

Today is Valentine’s Day, and I am single. My day will be void of valentine cards, chocolates, and flowers given to me by a lover. There is no romantic evening that awaits. This year I am on my own.

I was a late bloomer. I first kissed a boy at the age of 16. I went away to college at 17, and that’s when guys really started to notice me. From that point on, I haven’t been single for more than four months.

I’ve spent half of my life devoted to men: supporting, nurturing, and loving them. Despite my best efforts, all of these relationships have failed. Each time my heart has broken, a piece of myself has left me.

So what have these experiences taught me? I’ve learned that, until I love myself completely, it will never work out with anyone else. No amount of outside love, acceptance, and care will ever make me whole. These feelings need to come from within.

So today, I am my own Valentine. One day I hope to share the amazing woman that I am, with a worthy man. For now, I’m going to focus on being a better me.

Lessons in love

My mom has always been my rock, my sense of stability. In a childhood filled with turmoil and hardship, she kept us afloat. I always felt well cared for, I never went without.

My mom sacrificed so much. Most importantly was her sense of self. She worked hard, often holding two jobs at a time. For her kids, there's nothing that she wouldn't do. Men failed her, weren't worthy of her, were weak. Her needs were simple: to be loved, treated with respect, and cherished. Those needs weren't met. In spite of this, she never stopped believing in true love. My mom instilled in me a sense of hope, and she always told me that I'm worthy of love.

For a lot of years, I too put my needs aside. I devoted a lot of time to making others happy. Now I have a chance to do it over again: to marry, to possibly have another child, to grow old with my mate.

People say that marriage is a 50/50 partnership. That's untrue. To be successful, marriage has to be 100/100. I married the wrong man and then divorced. However, I still wholeheartedly believe in marriage. Thank you mom for always supporting me, loving me, and being my number one fan. I will never give up on my pursuit of happiness. I will always believe in the take your breath away kind of love.

New Beginnings

It’s been almost three years since my last blog entry. That’s one hell of a writer’s block. Truth is, I lost my inspiration. I lost my sense of self.

When you make the life-changing decision to have children, you never think that one day you’ll be raising them on your own. Enter in fear and anger. Instead of accepting the situation for what it was, I became bitter as hell. Here I was stuck with all the responsibility, while my ex got to live the bachelor life. I despised him.

Hate is an ugly emotion. If left to fester, it will rot you to the core. All the stress was physically making me a wreck. I gained weight, couldn’t sleep, took life for granted. I snapped at my kids. At times, I resented them.

I turned 36 on January 1st, and I made a promise. I would become unstuck. One month in, and my life is already changing. No more feeling angry and defeated. No more focusing on what I can’t change. God has blessed me with two amazing daughters. They deserve a mom who is happy and positive…..someone who cherishes every day with them.

My ex didn’t ruin me. He set me free. Life is a precious gift, and I have so much to offer others. In a world full of fake and dishonest people, I’m proud of who I am. I’m the real deal. It’s time I start carrying myself as such.

Another year passes

Next week my daughters will turn six and nine.  Somehow it doesn’t seem possible.  How have nine years gone by since I first held Daysia in my arms?  It’s going by way too fast. 

Parents of older kids always say that things get easier as kids get older.  I don’t agree.  Sure I sleep more than I used to, and don’t have to pack a suitcase of crap before leaving the house, but I think things have only gotten harder.  Some days I would much rather be physically drained from 2am feedings than mentally drained from a 45 minute tantrum.  When they’re babies, they don’t talk back, don’t call you “mean mommy”, haven’t yet mastered which buttons to push.  There isn’t this constant battle over who is right.  Babies just trust that you know what you’re doing…. even if in reality you don’t have a clue. 

My oldest is in such a hurry to grow up.  I wish there was a way to slow her down. When I was nine, I played hopscotch and kick ball.  I rode my bike, jumped rope, and made forts in the woods.  My soon to be nine year old wants a cell phone, is boy crazy, and would rather play video games than be outdoors.  I’m dreading having two teenage girls on my hands.  What makes it worse is remembering what I was like as a teen.  I don’t know how my mom didn’t write me off. 

Since I can’t make time slow down, I will continue to make their childhoods as fun filled as I can.  I will play Polly Pockets and Littlest Pet Shop, even though it bores the hell out of me.  I will take them to all the kid functions that I can.  I will remind them daily how lucky they are to be young and carefree.  Having those girls was, and still is, the best thing that I ever decided to do.  Happy Birthday to my beautiful babies!

New beginnings

So I've been living the single life for four months now.  I never thought I would be here again.  My marriage was supposed to last forever.   In reality, my marriage failed.  We fell out of love.  The fairy tale had a different ending.

I've spent hours trying to figure out where things went wrong.  Truth is, they were never right.  Sure there were happier times, special moments, laughter shared.  It just wasn't enough to sustain us.  We weren't meant to be. 

I think I fell in love with the idea of marriage, of sharing my life with another person.  I wanted to have a family, have someone to nurture, have someone to love.  In the end, love didn't lead to happiness.  Love didn't prevail.

Now I'm thirty three and starting over again.  So much has changed.  Being a single parent is lonely.  My girls are angry and sad.  They need me, even though they don't always want to admit it.  Most of the time I'm able to hold it together.  Other times, when no ones around,  I fall apart.  

For many years, I lost sight of who I was.  I struggled to hold on to a man who was never mine to begin with.  I fought to hold on to myself.  Now I'm scared of being alone forever, of never again falling in love .  Despite the fear, I'm taking time to rediscover myself.  What I've learned is that I'm pretty damn amazing. 

It may take years for Mr. Right to come along.  I can patiently wait.  I deserve to be with someone who loves every single piece of me...even those that are damaged and broken.  I'm not going to settle for less.
I still believe in marriage, in living happily ever after.  Most importantly, I believe in me.

Broken record

Sometimes I feel like I’m a broken record. “Don’t touch the walls”, “Wash your hands”, “Stop annoying your sister”, “Put your pants back on”. It’s like being in that movie Groundhog Day. My alarm goes off, I get in the shower, I put my bra/underwear on (that’s as far as I usually get before chaos ensues), and take a deep breath.


About this time, the girls’ alarm has gone off. They are either arguing over who is going to use the bathroom first, or they are giggling their heads off over some inside joke. Either way, it seems to take them at least 20 minutes to get dressed and come downstairs. I feed them, do their hair, brush their teeth (they suck at this), make their lunches, pack their bags, and eventually get myself dressed. On a good day, we get out of the house about 10 minutes late. On a bad, about 20. From the time my first was born, I could no longer be anywhere on time. Either someone has to pee (again), can’t find their shoes, is crying, or simply refuses to leave.

People with older kids always say “Treasure these days. You will miss them when your kids are grown”. I know they’re right. On Wednesday I will put my baby on the school bus. It seems like just yesterday she was born. Soon my girls won’t need me as much. I won’t be the center of their universe. As annoying and demanding as things are at times, it will break my heart to let them go. For now I need to embrace the madness… to hold their hands while they still want to be seen with me.

Put down the scissors

I wore my hair either fully or partially up for 9 years. I’m glad that’s behind me.

Back in Junior High, I was so envious of girls with straight hair. I wanted so badly to have bangs that I could curl. One night I decided to cut my own bangs. Boy was that a terrible idea. I gathered hair from way too far back on my head and pulled it down over my eyes. I took the scissors and cut it. Immediately I could tell I had made a huge mistake.

You see, curly hair does not lie flat. Not only were the bangs uneven, but they raised up about 3 inches off of my head. I remember my mom saying “Oh no, what did you do”? It looked like a large animal had taken a dump on my head. There was no way to make the mass of thick, curly hair even closely resemble bangs.

The hair was so short that I couldn’t even pin it back. It stood at attention for months. Finally, it grew long enough to hold a barrette. I went from resembling a cockatoo to slick rick. I went through 4 years of high school without wearing my hair down. I got used to it. It seriously became my security blanket… something that I had control over. After high school I continued to wear it up. Four years of college past and almost no one saw it completely down.

It wasn’t until I moved back to Rochester that I finally let a hair stylist have her way with it. Let’s just say, she changed my life. For the 1st time in along time, I was comfortable with my mane. Sounds strange, but the curls (and my identity) needed to be rescued.

So in case you ever wondered, there you have it. Definitely not one of my smartest moments.