Holy crap! I'm someone's mom!

Today has been a good day.  We had some visitors  today and my older son had a great time playing with them.  While he and my little baby were napping this afternoon, my husband and I worked more on his big boy room…hanging pictures, moving his things in from the nursery.  It’s really coming along and it makes me a little sad.  I still remember the very weekend my husband painted the nursery.  Afterall, it was only a little more than a year and a half ago…and now another kid is moving into it.  It is slightly shocking.  I never would have imagined that day that he painted the nursery that less than two years later we’d have another baby boy waiting in line to use it.

Speaking of flashing back, I often go back to the day that we announced our first son’s name at our co-ed baby party we had about a month before my due date.  It was a surreal moment.  Even though I knew there was a baby boy in there and we had already named in, I had not connected with him and couldn’t fathom what life would be like when he was a part of our family.  Now I can’t get enough of him.  Tonight at dinner, my husband accidentally (or perhaps intentionally) let out a pretty sizable poot, and my older son proudly exclaimed “poo pood!”  I literally choked on my food and my husband almost choked on his drink.  It was one of the best moments we’ve had as a family.  My son has already been letting us know whenever he poos by announcing “I pood”  Man, we are proud.  I never thought I’d see the day when I’d be proud of someone for announcing that they shit their pants.  I love parenthood.

I’m looking forward to hundreds, hopefully thousands, more moments like we had tonight.  But, in order to ensure I have those moments, I have to break the cycle…

See, there are a few reasons I started this blog.  One, to help me out with some areas in my life that I’m challenged with – mainly my pessimism and the stress I put on myself by constantly worrying.  Two , to connect with other parents and share advice, funny moments, and talk about life.  And three, to help me come to terms with the abuse I experienced as a child.  I realize I could keep a private journal or see a therapist, but I’m not a Dear Diary kind of girl and I’m not that interested in talking to a stranger about my issues.  I know that sounds funny since I’m writing a blog anonymously and sharing it with people I’ve never met…I totally get that that’s weird.  But, I’m ok with that.

I come from a divorced family…like most of us these days.  My parents divorced when I was 14 years old, and although it was a horrible experience at the time, it was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.  I come from an abusive home, and am a product of two people who I believe never really loved each other.

My parents got married at 18 years old.  My dad had a scholarship to a local university, and instead of taking that scholarship and earning a degree, he chose to marry my mom.  In knowing my mother and how manipulative she is, I firmly believe that she manipulated my dad into getting married instead of going to college.  I know that my dad could have made his own choices and I don’t think he was forced to walk down the aisle at gun point, but there had to be some reason why he threw away that scholarship.  Perhaps the pregnant card?  I’ll probably never know, but I am certain that they never truly loved each other.   My mom never had any college ambitions, and coming from a broken home herself, she wanted to get away and be taken care of.  I can’t say I blame her.  She too comes from a pretty f-d up situation.  Her mother left my mom, her little brother, and their dad when they were very young children, and ran around with several different men for many years.  She was basically the town whore and my mom and her brother knew it and heard it being talked about.  My grandmother left her children with their dad, who really didn’t want much to do with them either.  He then in turn asked his own parents to raise his children. WTF.  So, my mom and her brother were raised by her paternal grandparents…who were saints.

Flash forward several years later when I was born.  Just a couple of months after, my own mother left me in my crib while my dad was working a 24 hour shift.  She ran around town for a week with a guy and had apparently decided that parenting me was way too much to deal with.  My dad called in reinforcements and had his parents help out.  He begged and pleaded my mother to come back  and she did.  Not long after, my dad  cheated on my mom to get revenge, and they repeated this cycle for approximately 14 years.

In the early 90s, we moved from to a new town and bought a bigger house.  My mom had to work to help pay the bills.  She found a job she liked, had a little spending money of her own, and discovered some independence she had been missing for a few years.  This soon led to a new love interest in her life.  She had a public affair (we come from a small town, so any affair is public), and my brother and I watched it all unfold right before our very eyes.  We even met the man before my dad ever knew about him.  He was supposedly a man of God, and yes, this affair happened on the grounds of a Baptist church.  Once dad found out about him, he still begged my mom to stay, but she jumped ship, and for eight years, my brother and I did not have a relationship with her.  I honestly thought I’d never see her again, and after a couple of years I began to get comfortable with the idea.

My dad brought in his reinforcements again and my grandparents raised my brother and I for about two years until my grandfather was diagnosed with colon cancer.  They were wonderful and I owe my life to them.  More specifically, I will never know a more giving person than my grandfather…ever.  He unselfishly gave of his time, the little bit of money that he made, and all the love in the world.  He taught me how to play poker, how to drive, how to fish, and how to love.  I am a decent driver, an ok fisherwoman, and a beach lover because of him.  I can forgive people because of him.  I am who I am because of him.  I lost my grandfather a few years ago to lung cancer, and I miss him every day.  I am reminded of his presence every day when I put on my engagement ring, which is a story I will save for later.

After my grandparents left so my granddaddy could fight his cancer, my dad then found his own independence…and several women.  Now my dad was the talk of the town.  Super fun for my brother and I in the small town we lived in.

So, there you have it.  This is a very small glimpse of the various chapters in my life that I’d like to forget, but know I need to remember so I can let them go.

There is a common theme flowing through my family – abandonment.  And it appears to happen only after children are thrown into the mix.  So now it’s on my shoulders to break the cycle.  And, I will stop at nothing to do that.

I look forward to writing about these chapters.  There are a lot of details I do not want to relive, that I have buried deep down, that I’ve only shared with my husband and one or two other people, and I truly think it’s going to feel good to get them out on paper..or I guess I should say on the internet…  My parents should have never married, or procreated.  And now, 4 marriages and several ex-step siblings and broken families later, I plan to share all of the sad details why.

Thank you for reading.  It’s crazy how therapeutic it is knowing I’m sharing with an audience of strangers.  I guess that means I don’t have to hold back, right?

Well, it’s off to bed. Only one week of maternity leave left with my precious boys.  I would give my left leg to have another 12 weeks with them.

Good night, sweet dreams!

All the best,

Someone’s mom

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