Letters To Jack: Letter Two

Oh Jack,

This week has just been the worst.  One day (if you decide to have children), you will drop your kid off at daycare or school for the first time and you will discover what real solid pain feels like.

Today was your fourth day.  The first two days I let you go just for a few hours to get used to it.  Yesterday, I left you for ten hours. TEN.  For ten hours I left you with total strangers.  A little boy pushed you down and scratched your beautiful face and stole your toy.  Your teacher handed me a piece of paper explaining your injuries.  She said you did nothing.  You just cried.  I purposely did not ask which little tot caused harm to my perfect child because I knew that you might one day become friends with him, and that one day you might want him to come over and play, and you might even grow up to be best friends-and I would hate his little toddler guts for the rest of my life. Continue reading

Letters To Jack-Letter One

Dear Darling Little Munchkin Nugget,

I’ve been writing these blogs for over a year now and hoping that one day, you’ll read them.  I figure you won’t care about them much at all until you either have a family, or I’m gone.  I realized today that I’ve yet to really acknowledge my reason for writing.  It’s you.  I don’t want to forget these moments with you.  I’ve already forgotten about thirty percent of my high school class, my friend’s house phone numbers, and how much it cost to fill my gas tank up in 2002.  I don’t want to forget the person you are right now.  At two years old, we have a very different relationship than we might when you are thirty, so I want to remember each relationship perfectly. Continue reading

Mama’s Getting Married-And Everyone Is Freaking Out About My Dad

A few weeks ago, she called me.  “Is your dad okay?!” she asked in her WHAT THE HELL voice.  I was confused.  “Yes.  I think so.  I haven’t talked to him today, but I think he’s okay. I don’t understand.”  Explaining further, Mom had been asked by several people how Dad is “dealing” with her upcoming nuptials.  A few others had asked if she was inviting her ex-husband to the wedding.  “That’s funny, Mom!  I’ve been asked, too.”

I had.  People I really don’t even know that well had asked me in sympathetic voices, “How’s your Dad doing with your mom getting remarried?”  First of all, if he were miserable, I definitely wouldn’t tell you that, but the thing is-he isn’t.  Secondly, the conversation was never started with “Congratulations!  I’m glad your mom is happy.” I always awkwardly explain that Dad is quite happy.  He’s happy with his life, and he’s happy for my mom.   If you’re reading this and thinking “Oh, God.  I was the one she’s talking about.”  you are one of many, and I’m not mad at you.  I just thought maybe you’d like to read the way your words sound from our perspective in case you find yourself in a similar situation in the future. Continue reading

Beach Bitches and Busted Biscuits

And by bitches, I mean incredibly aggressive Pitbulls and their drunkenly idiotic owners who allow their dog to drag them all over the beach and attempt to eat small, innocent terrier puppies-but we’ll get to that later.  Last weekend, I went to the beach with four of my closest friends.  This is our second annual chill trip. There are certain requirements to attend this special event.  You must be incredibly passionate about three things:  Eating, laughing, and doing absolutely nothing.  Oh my gosh, ya’ll.  I am SO good at doing nothing.   Continue reading

I Wanted A Girl

My whole life, I knew I wanted a little girl.  She would have blonde hair and blue eyes just like me.  She’d be funny and sarcastic and she would LOVE The Little Mermaid.  (Narcissistic much?)  I think part of my girl-wanting was due to wishing I had a sister.  Obviously, I grew up and realized that children weren’t around specifically to entertain their parents, but still, I wanted a girl.  Even as a teenager, I’d see those adorable little dresses at Target and think, “One day.”   Continue reading

My Husband Is Weird

This morning, as I was clearing the counter off, I asked Rick while picking up random items, “Is this trash?”  (It’s super weird the things that AREN’T trash, so I’ve learned to ask.)  Anyway, today, he says, “I always write trash on items that are trash.  If it isn’t marked, it isn’t trash.”  Obviously, I don’t have to tell you that this idea would be absolutely ridiculous.  Choosing to write “trash” on something takes more time than throwing the trash in…the trash-but Rick is a man of his word.  I watched him from the living room as he finished the last of the milk, opened the drawer, pulled out a permanent marker, and wrote “TRASH” on the milk jug, setting it back on the counter.  All while complaining that it’s not easy that he has to write “trash” on all of his trash.  I guess the point of this little story is to let you know that my husband is weird.  Like…really weird.  He’s so weird that I am in awe of the creativity required to carry out this weirdness in a hilarious manner.  IMG_3195 Continue reading

Birthdays Aren’t Just About You

In case you missed the 291 photos I posted to Facebook of Jack’s 2nd birthday party, I’ll give you a little recap.  Jack turned two, and we had a Chugga Chugga TWO TWO party for him.  I know.  SO LAME.  My twenty two year old self is hardcore eye-rolling right now, but she also doesn’t have a beautiful munchkin nugget whose birth must be celebrated by the masses.  When deciding which theme to choose, I laid out options for Jack.  We were going to have a Ball Party or a Choo Choo Party or a SHOES Party.  In Jack’s very long two years, these are the things he holds most dear.  So, I put a ball, a shoe, and a choo choo on the floor in front of him and asked which one he wanted as his party theme.  I’ve already given away his decision.  He picked up the train and to Amazon Prime we went. Continue reading

God Never Said Life Would Be Easy

In the midst of another tragedy, the age old question is recirculating: “Why does God let bad things happen?”  If God is real and great and powerful, why does He just sit back and watch as our lives take what seem like meaningless, harsh twists and turns?  Why did He let my grandmother get Alzheimer’s?  Why did He let my friend get murdered?  Why did He allow 9/11?  Why did He let a psychopath go through with a mass shooting?  Why does He allow a woman carry a baby and then let it be born without a heartbeat? Continue reading

When Toddlers Attack

As I am writing this, my little angel dumplin’ is chillin’ in his crib, singing happy songs about how much he loves his mother because of my undying affection for him.  He is holding his Momo blankie and thinking of all the fun times he had with me today. Like when he threw that soup can at my head.  Or when he picked up a baseball bat and hit me as hard as he could.  Or, here is the best part, when he grabbed a glass bowl that I was eating from and hit me directly in the nose and I seriously thought it was broken.  His favorite part of the day, I’m sure, is laughing at me as I tried to get him to stay in “the time out corner”.  This escape from baby prison game is THE BEST!  You know how psychopaths on TV like to smile as they’re about to torture their victims?  Well, I think my baby might be a psychopath.  This brings me to a quick flashback story.  It’s the reason I’m here-in this amazing situation.  It’s the reason for my punishment. Continue reading