The BIG Thank You...

On my way in this morning, I was listening to The Bert Show.  They are promoting a huge campaign to make sure EVERY.SINGLE.SERVICEMAN/WOMAN stationed outside of the United States has a handwritten thank you letter in their hands by Thanksgiving.  

As many of you know, one of my VERY dearest friends is in the Army.  Knowing how it feels to have him so far away from us, I can only imagine what it's like for all of them to be away from their families, friends and loved ones, especially during the holidays.

That being said, I'm joining the campaign!!  I'm asking all of my friends, family, co-workers and readers to please write a THANK YOU letter...as short or long (no more than front and back of one page) as you want.  If you're not able to get them to me, you can either drop them at any Jersey Mike's location or mail them directly to the radio station.  

There are a few "rules" though.  Here's the gist...

Each letter should be heartfelt, handwritten, original, and free of any political statements. The purpose of the letter is to express thanks to the military personnel currently deployed outside the United States. We reserve the right to eliminate those messages that are political in nature and do not reflect a positive message in the spirit of Thanksgiving.

• All letters must be on 8.5” x 11” paper or smaller.
• Do not use glue, tape, staples, cardboard, glitter or otherwise attach anything to the paper.
• NO construction paper.
• Decorate using crayons, markers, pens or pencils.
• Use both sides if you like, but use one page per letter only.
• Do not send greeting cards or photographs.
• Feel free to include your mailing and email address.
• Individual letters should not be sealed in envelopes.
• Do not send anything except letters.

For more information you can visit their website at bigthankyou2013.com

In order for them to ensure that all letters are delivered by Thanksgiving, they must have them in their possession by November 1st.  I'll be sending all the letters I plan to collect no later than October 28th.  Please take the 5-10 minutes to say thank you to the people who have dedicated their lives to protecting us and our country.

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Week 10: J = Juggling

 It's week 10 already in Love Kate's A-Z All About Me Blog Challenge.  My life right now is quite the juggling act. I'm wearing so many different hats I've color coded them. Problem is I can't remember what day of the week it is let alone what color hat I'm supposed to be wearing. I work with my sister but she's been on vacation (off for the past 6 work days), so I've been carrying her load, plus we're in the middle of our busiest season with most everybody traveling, so on a daily basis I'm typically doing my job plus the jobs of at least 3 others. 

Combine that with the regular mom duties of homework, laundry, keeping house, driving these little snots everywhere they need to go and referee their cat fights!! Plus the honor of being the "president" of the volleyball booster club carries another list of responsibilities. I'm juggling more than my share. I know it sounds like I'm complaining, but honestly I wouldn't have it any other way. I just whine a little bit to make myself feel better at the end of the day when my floors still need to be swept and there's still 2 loads of laundry waiting to be folded and put away. 

This week we're also throwing a doctors appt., a hair appt., cheer/dance class and 2 afternoons of tutoring into the mix. The latter 2 are going to be weekly recurrences.  The way I see it, the busier we all are, the less time for anyone to find any trouble to get into.  Lord knows they'll find enough trouble without even looking for it.  Seriously!  You can't 'baby-proof' windows so 11 year olds can't open them....without nailing the suckers shut!!  I like sleeping with my windows open too much to do that anyway....so I'm thinking about duct taping her to her bed or nailing her door shut. <---I'm kidding, but you get my point...don't you?

It also helps me justify my self-proclaimed mandatory OFF night every other weekend. My sanity demands it. I've got to have a little time away with my friends. I love my children fiercely, but they know EXACTLY how to push my buttons. I need at least 15-18 hours away from them bi-weekly to decompress. Slou still frequents her dad's house...which might explain the climbing out windows and acting like a 3 year old behavior.  Beelay however, does not go to her dad's anymore.  That's for another post somewhere later down the road.  Bottom line, in order to be the mom that I strive to be...I have to distance myself every now and then.  I have to let my hair down and take all of my color coded hats off and just put on my party hat.

One of these days, I hope to fall in love again.  I've even put myself out there a little bit.  I've got a date on Friday night (nothing fancy...it's Lollipop's birthday dinner), but shhhh...don't tell anyone.  He probably reads my blog.  If he does, I just want him to know that it's about damn time and I'm very much looking forward to it.  What scares me though is this, what color is left for that hat.  As badly as I want to find my happiness outside of mother, daughter, sister, Tia (auntie), friend & employee...I'm worried that I might drop one of my hats.  Make sense? I'm sure that I'm probably worried about nothing.  I mean he's the one that's been patiently waiting for me to open my eyes for several years now.  Slow and steady wins the race, right?

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Week 2: A-Z Challenge

This week I'm on the beach with my babies and I'm having a wonderful vacation. However when I think through all of the words that begin with B...the ones that jump out at me are broken, bruised and brave. This is going to be an honest, raw and emotional post...like you've never seen from me before. I think because I'm in such a great place in my life, I'm ready to talk about my past. 

I married young...kinda shotgun style. Although none of our parents were adamant that we get married, it was what we wanted. I told myself that we were already planning on getting married anyway...that getting knocked up just made the wedding bells ring a little louder and faster. 

I'm sure if I had the money to pay a therapist, they could tell me why I was so anxious to grow up, get married and have a family of my own. But honestly I can't put my finger on it. I can tell you I was madly heart over reason in love with my husband and I was willing to move heaven and earth to make him happy and walk on as many eggshells as I had to to prove my undying unconditional love for him. 

Our whole relationship was tumultuous. He had his own set of demons that I'll never understand, mainly because he NEVER admitted he was at any fault for ANYTHING. His jealousy and trust issues eventually broke me. A love is only as strong as the two people building it and when one is weak and constantly accusing the other of infidelity and continuously putting their family and relationship dead last...it's damned from the start. 

Even 7 years into our relationship I still worshiped the ground that man walked on. I was still convinced that eventually he would get it...something would ultimately click and he'd see that he did deserve my love and that he would all the sudden be the husband and father that I begged him to be....that our kids deserved for him to be. 

Over the course of our marriage, we'd fight, I'd pack up the kids, leave for a couple days and come back when he cried and pleaded that he would change....

Then there was the time he came home drunk, accusing me of sleeping with every guy that signed my senior yearbook...even though he knew every single one of them and even considered them friends. I threw away my yearbook...to try to prove to him how off base he was. The brutal, hateful words just kept cutting me like daggers...until he'd drawn enough blood and I tried to leave...again. This time he refused to let me take the kids with me. He told me I was welcome to take my whore ass to hell for all he cared, but the girls were staying with him. At the time they were 3 1/2 and 7 months old. He was smoking crack if he thought I was gonna leave my babies with him. I called the police...they came and calmed him down and told me I couldn't leave with the kids if he didn't want me to. It didn't matter that he was drunker than a skunk...but he finally agreed to let me take them. 

Again, two days later...I came home, once more to promises that it would never happen again and that he was so sorry and blah, blah, blah. Things were always great for a couple weeks after I'd leave. 

I never knew what was gonna set him off. If I wore makeup, I was accused of trying to impress someone. If I worked out, I was cheating on him. If I went into work a few minutes early, I was screwing my boss (GAG). If I didn't answer the phone when he called, I was obviously on the other line with my boyfriend. If I answered the phone out of breath (whether because I was chasing our kids or running to grab the phone), he apologized for interrupting my lunch f**k. If it took me longer than an hour to grocery shop (which took at least 10-15 minutes to get to), my phone was blowing up and he was demanding to speak to whoever I had met up with...I could go on, but I'm sure you get the picture. 

The next time I decided I needed to leave, I knew I didn't want a repeat of the last time. So I waited until he was in the shower and grabbed enough clothes, diapers and bottles for the night and ran to load the girls in the car and just after I finished buckling B into her car seat and shut the door...a truck hit me. I landed flat on my back and literally saw stars. He knocked me out cold! When I came to, he was a blubbering mess...apologizing for hitting me, that if I hadn't tried to sneak off, it never would've happened. He successfully made me feel like it was MY fault. I ended up not leaving that time....

I became that cliche of the battered wife. I walked around with full makeup on and sunglasses until my bruises faded. We made sure we had our stories straight for when somebody would ultimately ask what happened...and me being the graceful disaster that I am, I think people actually believed me. 

That was the beginning of the end for us. I don't remember how many more times I left him, before I left for good. But that's when I started realizing things were never gonna change and that it wasn't what I wanted my kids growing up around.  There were times he threatened to kill himself...and honestly there were times at their lowest that I wished he would...so I wouldn't have to find the balls to leave him. 

It's oddly funny that the night I decided I was done, we weren't even fighting. I was just done. I was too broken to fight for our love anymore. I had to find the strength, courage and bravery to fight for the well being of my children. I knew I had to put them first...and my unconditional love for them trumped my broken love for him. 

He's moved on to an even 
 more volatile relationship and I've built walls so high and so thick that nobody's been able to hurt me like that again. He has no idea how broken and bruised I was on the inside...because on the outside I put on my brave face and did everything in my power to keep my kids from continuing that cycle. Only time will tell if I've been successful. 

Now I'm so much stronger than I was all those years ago. I'm brave about so many things...but deep down I'm still trembling in my boots. Brave and fearless are not synonymous. I hope that one day I'm able to overcome my fears and be able to put myself out there to find love again. But for now I'm content putting my kids first and living my life for us...not having every breath questioned. 

This was the hardest post I've ever written. It opened some old wounds that I thought were all healed with nothing left but scars to show for them. I hope you've read this without judgement and feel a little closer to me, as I do to all of my readers after writing this. Please take a minte to click on the banner below to cast your vote for me. Thank you again for reading.