27
Nov

The answer

You were the answer to my wish upon a star.

Lovies, it has been a flipping year and a half.
That is for damn sure.
I am not sure how many more hits this mamma of yours can take but here is what I do know...
as much as I am impacted and floored, and processing the blows, I'm still
grateful...
thankful...
and lucky...
to have met you.

You were the answer to my wish upon a star.

I know you know this, but this mamma of yours wanted no babies.
Not a single one.
Dad knew it and get rolled the dice on me.
I knew he needed to be a dad and I rolled the dice too.
He won, and thank god he did.

You were the answer to my wish upon a star.

I had no idea how much I was missing you in my life.
I had no idea that you were a part of my purpose, my reason, my life.
I needed to be your mother. I needed to mother you both.
I needed to have babies and they needed to be you.
I needed to feel your heart beating, I needed to carry you.
I needed to rock you to sleep and bathe you.
I needed to read to you and get excited about your amazing milestones.
I needed to mother you both.

You were the answer to my wish upon a star.

Your smiles, your warmth, your excitement.
Your belief in magic, your desire to be good, do good.
Your mistakes, my mistakes, your lessons, my lessons.
Your love of love, my need for more and more love.

You were the answer to my wish upon a star.

Time is marching on, you're both getting so so big.
But in this house, not much really changes.
The foundation, the strength, the commitment to love, the traditions, the unit, the desire to be together,
it all stays exactly where it is.

Time is marching on, you are both getting so so big.
With more than "play dates"...now you have "plans".
With more than a little kid game...now you have a real team to show up for.
With more than what to wear today...now there are outfits and routines.
With more than friends...now you are creating squads.
Time is marching on, that's for damn sure. But you were and still are my answer.

You were the answer to my wish upon a star.

As you walk this planet, have desires, have some plans.
But be very open to change.
Be very aware of how giving in to something you always feared may make you forever grateful that you did.
Meet family, and surround yourself with family in every way.
Remember love, make memories, make something.
Be you, the wonderful incredible you that I had this incredible wonderful front seat at watching.
The answer to a question I never wanted to ask.

You were the answer to my wish upon a star.

21
Nov

What we see

You see a kitchen.
I see us writing happy hearts every week and I see pancakes and I see pizza and I see a family all in one spot.
I see where your highchair was and all the entertainment you gave me from it.
I see you falling asleep sitting up when we changed from 2 naps to one.
I see us going over sounds animals make while I fed you.
I see us singing.
I see all of our moments...I see all of us.

You see a bedroom.
I see where I read to you. Where I rocked you. Where I held you. Where I fed you.
I see where your crib was, I see the look on your face when I entered your room after a nap or a deep sleep.
I see a sleepy baby, ready for bedtime, after a bath, smelling perfect.
I see where we introduced you to Mia. I see her smelling you and not knowing what this life now meant for all of us.
I see all of our moments...I see all of us.

You see our front room.
I see the room we first brought you home to.
I see where you rolled over, where you walked, where you played.
I see where you hung out, I see our first family movie nights.
I see our red chair, the one we snuggled into. The one dad held you all night while you were sick in.
I see our fireplace and our love for warmth.
I see Mia's happy face when we were all there together and I see her trying to climb up on top of me when dad watched sports.
I see all of our moments...I see all of us.

You see a bathroom.
I see your first tubs. The ones that you were so small you needed a tub inside of a tub.
The ones where you were sitting up and would play.
I see us writing with the letters that stuck to the walls together.
I see you squealing.
I see you moving from a tub inside a tub, to a sitting child, to someone that bathed alone to someone that takes showers.
I see us fighting you to brush properly.
I see us fighting you to keep it cleaner.
I see all of our moments...I see all of us.

You see our backyard.
I see you making fun of me about how small the pool we put in is.
I see you and dad playing ball, any ball together.
I see you playing basketball by yourself.
I see your swing set - the one you loved and would smile so big on.
I see your baby pool, the one you loved until you were way too big for it.
I see summers outside.
I see our firepit that we all gathered around.
I see Pearl running from one side to the other. Her gallop is so beautiful as she chases the newest smell.
I see us playing fetch and ball with her.
I see her amazing smile when we're all together.
I see all of our moments...I see all of us.

You see a house.
I do not.
I see the home we created, with such unbelievable intentions.
I see our traditions.
I see our love.
I see our family.
I see the beauty in our lives.
I see and feel our memories.
I feel the warmth that was built here.
I see all of our moments...I see all of us.

19
Nov

Five Minute Friday - laugh

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on laugh.

Go.

It starts from the belly.
Sometimes it's so hard that there are tears of actual joy!
Most times, I cannot breathe and it knocks the wind and sound out of me.
Most times, I end up unable to talk for quite some time.
Most times, I cannot finish a story, the breath won't allow it to come out.

The first time you laughed so hard you cried, you were actually worried.
It made me ecstatic.
When you tell a really funny joke and I cannot contain myself, your laughter makes the room lighter.
And then, immediately, as if to clarify..."see, I'm funny"...
I do the same thing. Since I'm the one always laughing, whenever I do make a funny and make someone else laugh, I'm just so proud of myself..."see, I am funny!"...

This past year, I've lost my laugh, but you haven't.
You've watched me and you've continuously asked if I'm okay and what I need.
You've spent some time apologizing for things that were not your fault, and you found ways to make me laugh.
Not your job, but you would feel so good when I did.

You come home and immediately come and tell me all about the funny parts of your day.
Your smart-ass friends, with their smart-ass comments.
Your smart-ass come backs, and how much they make you laugh.
Have I told you how much I love all of this?
The fact that you have it, the fact that you share it, the fact that I'm still a part of your life, the fact that you love to tell me, the fact that it exists.

See love, it's easy for me to laugh. It really is actual medicine.
It really is a way to heal, to feel connected again.
And we're so lucky to have so many people that make us laugh in this little world of ours.

Dad with is dad jokes...aunts/uncles/cousins/friends/framily.
Laugh till it stops hurting baby girl and then laugh till it does.

Stop.

13
Nov

Say goodbye

Last week, all of the leaves let go in upstate NY. All of them. My runs and walks are crunchy now. Everything is really bare. And all of the green that we have become so used to has turned to a dark dead brown. The only things still holding on are the grass and the unseasonally warm weather that has me running in tank tops. But even that has started to fade and the rain and colder temps are coming on stronger. Our normal temps are making their way and NY is getting ready for its longest season. We officially need to say goodbye to the warmth now and welcome cozy season.

Last week, I took a walk in a very familiar area. It had really familiar surroundings and I realized something, I no longer missed it. I had finally let go too. I said goodbye. I officially said goodbye to what I was holding on to the very most and I want to welcome something new.

I have no idea why no idea and I do not know what changed inside of me but something finally released its grip. I saw and realized what we were, what we meant, and what we definitely no longer are. I no longer had the pain that I had. I no longer longed to hear us. I no longer longed for you. I said goodbye.

I have spent so long begging for this release and if I am honest, I do not trust it. I do not believe I will no longer feel the need to hear your voice and laugh and talk to you. I do not trust I will not still dream of you, or that the hold has fully released. I do not trust that it will not hurt and that memories won't bring me pain. But for now, I let you go. My heart does not have this unsettling ache. I said goodbye.

I saw something in you that I did not realize was there. I finally saw it all right in front of me. Not what it always and forever was, but what it became. And I finally forgave myself for so much. I am sorry for my part but goodbye is what I needed.

It's pretty healing to forgive someone that never says they are sorry. I have spent a lifetime doing that.
It would be fitting to now say goodbye to those I never was able to have closure from.
In my own way, on my own terms, in my own time, I said goodbye.

13
Nov

Five Minute Friday - extreme

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on extreme.

Go.

I live in extremes.
Sometimes, most times, they are polar opposites.
I love hard or I don't.
I long for quiet and worry about you leaving.
I work hard and sleep harder.
I live in extremes.

I cry with every emotion...happiness, anger, nervousness, laughter, love, and sadness...I always cry.
I laugh too hard.
I get too angry.
I love too hard.
I am loud or quiet.
I am introverted but need need need my people.
I live in extremes.

I miss too much.
I burn things to the ground.
I drink coffee all of the time.
I work out to exhaustion.
I work my fingers to the bone.
I live in extremes.

Absolute extremes.
And I love it.
And I don't.

Stop.

7
Nov

Showing up.

I show up.

For my kiddos.
For my husband.
For my body.
For my health, for my life.
For my work and my career.
For my employees.
For my friends, for their hearts.

I show up.

As a mother, a really proud one.
As a bride, a really caring one.
As a dog mom, a really loving one.
As a boss - a badass boss.
As a friend, a damn good one.
As a runner and a woman that puts strength first.
As a writer.
As a giver.

I show up.

For you.
For him.
For them.
For me.
For love.
For strength.
For family.

I show up.
I don't know how not to and I don't want to figure it out.
I show up because I want to and because I have to.
I show up because I love the people in my life.

I show up.

30
Oct

Soulmates...nope.

This lover of love.
This sap.
This cryer at commercials.
This woman with one superpower, loving others, does not believe in soulmates.
Does not does not does not.

Lovies, dad is the love of my whole life.
I think about my love for him all of the time.
I think about how I could be loving him better.
I think about him and his heart and if I am taking care of both.
But, I do not think we are soulmates.

Lovies, dad is the love of my whole life.
When I met your dad, everything hard melted.
I met my family.
I met happy.
I met easy.
I met the start of forever.
I met my forever and always.
But, I did not meet a soulmate.

Lovies, dad is the love of my whole life.
But love and marriage and parenting and forever and always IS hard and I do not take that for granted.
I do not take our marriage for granted.
I do not believe that something else out there is keeping us together so we can neglect our relationship.
I know we have to work on it, us, all of us all of the time.
We can take a day off here or there, but every time we take too much time off from us, nothing but us brings us back.

Lovies, dad is the love of my whole life.
But, I do not think we are perfectly suited for each other in every way.
I believe that he is my balance.
I believe he is my counterpart and I do believe that I need his energy.
But, I do not believe that he understands all of me.
I do not believe that we were born to meet.
I do not believe our souls were connected and that he would be lost without me.

Lovies, dad is the love of my whole life.
When we started, I was drawn to him.
For the first time in my life, I wanted something easy and to find someone happy.
Full of actual joy.
We happily fell into love and joy.
Years later, we have continued to add hard here and there and have to continuously check in.
We have to keep each other in mind.
We have both changed and we need to make sure that our entire foundation hasn't crumbled.
We have to make sure as we grow and change we are doing it in the same direction, or else it won't work.
No matter how it felt in the beginning, it won't work.
Our history won't keep us together.
That first smile won't.
That first kiss won't.
They will keep you warm when things get cold but they will not keep you.

Lovies, dad is the love of my whole life.
Not my soulmate but the love of my life and I will do all that I can to keep that love strong.
I will work on keeping us because I know that nothing else will.

Do not read this to think that I will huff and puff at you believing in them.
Do not read this thinking I will poke fun.
But, do not wait thinking someone perfect is out there either, and do not walk away when it gets hard.
Even soulmates have to work at it.
But I do hope you find the love of your whole life.

28
Oct

Five Minute Friday - while

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on while.

Go.

In a little while
this hurt will hurt no more
I'll be home, love

When you were first born, we turned this song on and your dad danced with you.
When we brought you home, he turned it on again and held you as he danced around our family room.
As the tears streamed down my face, I felt like I was watching your whole world flash by my eyes, even though you were days old.
But, days turn into months, years, and before we know it, a lifetime.

In a little while
this hurt will hurt no more
I'll be home, love

The words still ring in my ears and immediately this memory still hits me.
But recently, they mean something different.
I have been in a sad fog.
And I have not been around, fully.
But I feel myself coming home.
I feel it lifting and coming back home to you all.

In a little while
this hurt will hurt no more
I'll be home, love

Losing those that you thought mattered is hard.
It's painful.
It's a pain you cannot put into words.
And the rollercoaster is real.
The anger, the numbness, the tears, it's all so real and you feel it all.
Sometimes you're feeling it all at the same time, sometimes separate, it's a mess.
Loss is a messy.

In a little while
this hurt will hurt no more
I'll be home, love

Leaving the pain and sadness is something you can actually feel happening.
There are fewer tears.
There are fewer bouts of rage.
The sound of your name doesn't hit me as hard.
I don't feel your weight anymore.

You laugh a little more.
You see reasons to laugh again.
You remember joy.
You find people, other people.
You move on in some way.

But in a little while, I'll be home, love.
I'm on my way home love, in a little while.

Stop.

16
Oct

This time of year

There's a certain amount of peace that comes with this time of year.

Lovies, even as your dad and you are screaming your heads off in the other room cheering on the Bills, I am overcome by such sappy peace that you are just going to need to ride it out with me.

It's almost poetic.
Last week, I was begging, pleading, for time to heal me.
But, just because I'm ready to let the loss go, does not mean the healing will begin.
As dad said, it's like watching a pot. You keep calling for it instead of just allowing it to happen organically.
I'm grasping for something, but it's not there for me to grab...not yet.

It's almost poetic.
And during my favorite Sunday calls, my sister-in-law reminded me that all I can do is forgive.
Not the pain, not the people, but forgive yourself for what you put up with and why.
And so I started to do just that. On my hands and knees, in child's pose, I asked for forgiveness.
Not healing, but forgiveness.
Because for years, I put up with too much - we all did.
There is peace in forgiving yourself.

It's almost poetic.
Scrolling through social media, I can see all of the posts about how fall is the universe reminding us of the beauty that comes with letting go.
The beauty in losing it all and creating something...new.
See, sappy...but there is peace at this time of year.

It's almost poetic.
I sat in the tub tonight, with so much hot water, not warm, hot.
The suds were all around me. The salts smelled so good.
My heart rate slowed down.
My thoughts got a little quiet.
I was so warm, so incredibly warm.
And I asked for forgiveness, not healing, but forgiveness.
I closed my eyes and thought, there is peace in this.

It's almost poetic.
I finished one more part of Nonno's stuff. My dad's stuff. One uncomfortable and awful part that was left for us.
Left, for us.
And sometimes it made me so mad that it was left.
How he just wouldn't believe this was happening so wasn't going to tie up loose ends.
So he left us with it.
But more than anger, I was so sad.
For him, his trust, his love for his family, his character, his damn strong character.
Instead I cried, again.
Being sad about him brings me such strange wonderful comfort.
My relationship with your Nonno was so complicated and the fact that I'm sad feels so normal to me.
There is such peace in his loss and the deep sadness it brings.

It's almost poetic.
The leaves are changing, falling to the ground now.
The colors are strong, but barely hanging on.
The trees are losing a lot and bracing themselves.
I wonder if that's what peace actually looks like?
Getting down to nothing, a stub of who you were, getting ready for the cold, and then starting over again and getting something new to reach out.
There is such peace here.

It's almost poetic.
I don't know if I will ever shed you, the feel of you, the warmth you once brought.
I don't know if I will ever forgive myself all of the way.
I don't know if I will ever be able to hear your names and be okay.
But I do know I will feel warmth again and again and again.
I do know that I will find something new, once I stopped grasping for nothing.
And I of course know, there's a certain amount of peace that comes with this time of year.

9
Oct

Five Minute Friday - become

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on become.

Go.

Happy.
Content.
Free of constant worry.
Healed.
Less angry.
Balanced.
Healthy.
A strong example.
A good mother.
A bride you can rely on.
The example of love.
The keeper of memories.
The light you need in the dark.
The comfort you, and I, seek.
Loving.
Caring.
In love with my life.
Less tired.
A smile in the room.
Cozier.
Inspired.
Slower.
A person who lives her life with intention.
The maker and keeper of traditions.
An adult that understands and moves through grief and loss.
More and less.
Better and worse.
Who you think I am.
Who I think I am.
Who I know I am.

To become all of me.

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