I love peanut butter, I absolutely freakin’ love it but not the chunky kind. That’s made by a bunch of lazy folks. I mean, is it really “butter” if it has chunks in it? Creamy peanut butter all the way.
You know what’s not cool? Being married to a chunky lover. I’m glad he likes me that way but peanut butter doesn’t have any business being chunky. Mmhmm. Am I right or am I right? I’m right. I’m always right, ask my husband.
I’ll never forget the first time I served chunky peanut butter to Jaelyn. He was watching me make the sandwich and when I got it out of the pantry, he was like, “Whoa, that’s not peanut butter, what is that?”
I explained how chunky peanut butter meant it had chunks of peanuts in it. I tried my hardest to make it sound appealing but I was really trying to pawn the nasty crap off and keep the creamy goodness all to myself. It’s such a tasty treat, can you blame me?
Jaelyn flipped out saying, “I can’t eat that, it has peanuts in it, I’M ALLERGIC TO PEANUTS!”
Very dramatic especially considering he isn’t allergic to peanuts, AT ALL. Screw a peanut allergy in this family. They better drink some Robitussin and get over it real quick.
Jenna hates peanut butter. I have no idea where it manifested but it’s a travesty. What kind of kid doesn’t like peanut butter? A princess. Jenna doesn’t know I licked peanut butter off her silver spoon before she was born. That’s right, I did it. Don’t judge me, the struggle was and still is REAL.
Just the other day I was craving a PB&J. After many lazy hours, I finally got up to make one and discovered there wasn’t any peanut butter. I was devastated.
So I busted out in my best Sheryl Crow impersonation, “I ain’t seen the sun shine in three damn days!”
Jenna came running into the kitchen. She asked what I was singing about. I told her we were out of peanut butter. Her response? “Get a grip, I don’t even like peanut butter.”
IT ISN’T ALL ABOUT YOU JENNA. It’s about me and peanut butter. Don’t ever forget that, kid. There’s no shame in my peanut butter game. Creamy peanut butter for life.
There was a time when my parents had to purchase Jaelyn’s formula. The day I had to return birthday gifts for me, so I could buy my son diapers, is a day I will never forget. I’ve went weeks where the only food I ate was Ramen noodles. I’ve worked double shifts, three and four days in a row just to make ends meet. I never received help from Jaelyn’s biological father. My parents were his father, they picked up the extra slack.
There was a time when Jaelyn was all I had.
I was alone and scared. Trapped in my own head, constantly worrying if I was doing the right thing. Always doubting my maternal instincts. My stomach in shambles, day after day. Making myself physically ill by worrying over things I had no control over. I knew there was nothing I could do to change my current situation but work my ass off on a daily basis and strive for a better life. So that’s what I did.
Every day I walked into work with a smile on my face. I was there for a paycheck. I was hired to do a job and no matter how much I hated every minute of being away from Jaelyn, I knew this was the only way we could make it.
My hard work paid off but not how I expected.
My employer never recognized my dedication or awarded my hard work without a prompt from my Union Representative. I worked a mediocre job with low pay and high drama. I expected too much from the workplace and got even less than other employees had warned me about.
The whole time I was busting my ass off, without recognition from my supervisors, Brandon was watching. He took note of my work ethic. He loved how much effort I put into my customer service skills. He enjoyed watching me smile and laugh at the horrible jokes customers would share. He noticed me.
Within weeks we were dating. No one believed in us, they said it wouldn’t last.
Within months we were living together. They said it would just lead to a messier break up.
The look on their faces when we got married was priceless. The same look we get now, five years later, while we’re still going strong and they’ve all filed for divorce.
The whispers when I quit my job. How could we survive with 3 kids and only Brandon working? By minding our own damn business.
They don’t know Brandon like I do. He would do anything for his family. If that meant changing careers and spending days away from us to earn a higher paycheck, then that’s what it meant.
We don’t live a lavish lifestyle, that’s not for us. We’re rich in love and as long as you have that, everything else works itself out in the end.
Life has the potential to be a Disney movie, if you allow it. Just not the one where animals come in and clean your house or tiny flying fairies save the day.
You aren’t alone in whatever struggle you’re facing. The struggle doesn’t last forever. Things change, people grow up, learn from mistakes, give everything your all and love like you’ve never been hurt before.
Sometimes it only takes one person, one day to change everything.
Nearly 24 hours into motherhood I was unknowingly and inevitably thrown into the Mommy Wars.
I understand breast is best but it’s not what was best for my kids. My body never produced milk. Does that mean God wanted my kids to starve? Absolutely not.
It meant I needed to do what was best for my kid. So, I popped a bottle in his mouth and watched him go. He moaned and grunted at the feeling of food in his empty belly. For the first time in his 2 day-long life, he did what newborns do- he ate, burped and slept.
Bottlefeeding wasn’t part of my plan. I had a business card in my purse with the law stating I could breastfeed my child anywhere anybody else was allowed to eat. I was ready for the breastfeeding war, I just wasn’t ready to be on this side of it.
At my sons first pediatrician appointment I was frowned on for not “sticking with it.” At his first WIC (Women, Infants and Children) appointment I was scolded for not trying harder. They even lowered the amount of formula I was allotted in hopes of “encouraging the breast.”
It wasn’t my son’s fault and it wasn’t my fault. He latched on and sucked like a trooper but there wasn’t anything coming out. I could pump for 30 minutes and not one drop of milk would be produced.
I reached out to breastfeeding forums but that was the worst idea ever. They met my “help me” attitude the same way his pediatrician and WIC doctors did; I was lazy. I wasn’t trying hard enough. That particular forum was a virtual, new age stoning.
One lady sent me a private message with a sure way to prompt lactation; I needed to wait for a full moon, fry up 1 pound of bacon, go outside naked, howl at the moon three times, return inside and rub hot bacon grease on my nipples. (Because that’s what prompts lactation?) I don’t know if she was serious or not but I do know I never wrote back to find out. That isn’t the kind of support I needed.
My OBGYN understood nothing was working for my body, nothing was helping my milk come in. I broke down in her office one day. She rubbed my back and consoled me. She reminded me that nothing ever goes according to the plan. This is the first of many things that may not go my way but I needed to remember to do what’s best for the baby.
She said, “as long as every decision you make is made with love, they aren’t really decisions.”
I have often thought back to the words she spoke 7 years ago. They have helped me more than she may realize, in a lot of situations.
As parents we need to stop worrying about the parenting world around us. What one parent is doing in their home, has nothing to do with what is going on in your home. We must remember no 2 children are alike because no 2 parents are alike. If we were all raised with the same belief system this world would lack the diversity it needs to thrive.
In our home there’s no one right way to do any given task. I show my children how I do something and then allow them to modify my way to better fit themselves or come up with their own method.
As parents we need to stop trying to raise our children to fit a specific mold we have preconceived in our own minds. We need to worry more about our family and raising children with self awareness and the know how to make viable decisions with the best outcome based on their lives.
When I see a mother breastfeeding my heart smiles because her body cooperated. I can’t wait for the day to experience the visual with my daughter, who thinks all babies are fed with a bottle. I look forward to teaching her the lesson of how other Mothers feed their children. I look forward to sharing my story with her.
I especially look forward to witnessing the decisions she makes as a mother. All I can do is show her the many ways of the world and know the choices she makes are what’s best for her family. I just hope when it’s her turn to make parenting decisions, the Mommy War is dead and gone.
If we won’t stop for ourselves, we need to stop for our daughters. Do we want our daughters to feel lost and worthless in a community where they could seek refuge and guidance?
First and foremost we are all mothers and that is enough for me. I value everyone’s beliefs, we learn through diversity. This isn’t about pushing your thoughts onto someone else, this is about embracing all beliefs while staying true to your own.
Some days are pleasant but most days seem longer than usual and every day is a new battle. There’s always something to do, somewhere to go or someone to visit.
Life with the Bearded J’s became more hectic when we assumed full responsibility of my aunt Lisa, who’s 49 years old and was born with Down Syndrome.
She was my childhood buddy, I remember spending summers at my Grandma’s house, with her. Lisa and I would color, play games or cards, sing karaoke and dance our hearts out. We would swim on sunny days or play Super Mario Bro’s on rainy days.
When Lisa came to live with us, I expected it to be like the summer’s we spent together, decades ago. Although those moments still happen, they are far and few; that’s not at all what normal life is like. I had no idea the amount of care and attention she would need and desire.
I don’t know if Lisa can still do all those things we used to do for so many summers because she won’t even try. She’s changed so much and it’s heartbreaking because her regression is highly noticeable.
Some days I think Lisa’s developing Dementia, which is common in adults with Down Syndrome. Other days I think she’s still confused about everything that happened with my Grandparents and the events leading up to her arrival at our home. But every day I know I’m going to have to reteach her something that she once knew how to do. And every day, Lisa wants to argue with everyone about anything.
Lisa loves to fight. Everyone needs a good argument every once in awhile but she needs it every day. They aren’t normal tiffs or sassiness that kid’s dish out- I would prefer those kind. These are full blown yelling and screaming at each other arguments, over nonsense. Half the time I’m not even sure what starts it and each time I don’t know how to end it. I say stop, I try to ignore her and I walk away, but she keeps going. There are times when I have to take the kids up stairs and turn music on because her screaming has made Jace cry and terrifies Jenna.
There have been times when Brandon has to step in and say “enough is enough,” and allows me to take a time out. Then there’s times when Brandon isn’t here and I can’t walk away from the problem. Those are the moments that scare me. Yes, I’m scared. Not of one person or one thing but of the whole scenario. I know it’s not normal. This isn’t how people live, this isn’t how my family lives but this is what our life has come to.
I’m scared because I don’t know what to do and I don’t know if all this will leave my kids emotionally scarred. Will they be better because of their time spent with Lisa or will she leave a negative impact on them? I’m scared because I don’t know the end game.
Do I wipe my hands clean of the situation? I can’t, Lisa doesn’t have anywhere else to go. Do I spend the rest of time living in fear of the repercussions from the decisions we made? I have to. I can’t turn my back on family, especially not Lisa.
I’ve read every article I can get my hands on, I’ve reached out to my Grandparents and other family members on how to cope with her but nothing has helped. This isn’t like raising a child where you can mold their behavior through therapy. Lisa is set in her ways and she won’t change a thing for anyone, there are no tricks that help. No matter how many times you say something, she’s going to do what she wants because that’s how her life has always been. Even in incidents that are life threatening, she does what she wants with no regards.
Lisa has taught me a lot about life. As a child she taught me empathy. As a teen she taught me sympathy. Now as an adult, she’s putting those two traits to the test.
My life hasn’t been funny lately, it’s been exhausting, hectic and HARD. Caring for Lisa has been the hardest thing I have ever had to do, and because most of Lisa’s shenanigans are not something I want to share -they don’t embrace her positive side- I have no place to vent.
I started writing as a form of therapy. When I needed someone other than Brandon to talk to, I have turned to you and it’s always worked. But I can’t completely open up about Lisa and what hurts worse, I can’t find any humor in what I’m going through with her.
In the beginning- I could laugh it all off. Her escapades seemed silly and still had shock value. I made excuses for her behavior, tried to cover it up and not let anyone see how badly she had regressed.
Six months later- I feel emotionally broken. Nothing shocks me now, I expect the worse going into everything with no hope of a better outcome; I know how she is.
At times I’m desensitized from it all. Then there’s moments of overwhelming emotions. It’s hard to explain but I do know that none of it brings forth humor.
Some things are better left unshared. I have always kept the best and worst Bearded J moments to myself, Lisa moments are no different.
Very few things piss me off. I can usually look at a situation, say “fuck it,” and walk away easily. I’m not hard to get along with, simply put if I don’t like you, I stay away from you. If you annoy me, I avoid you. If you offer unsolicited parenting advice and think it’s ok I may or may not throat punch you. I just can’t be held accountable for my actions once you throw advice in my face.
I know there are touchy subjects when it comes to parenting. I chose to NOT discuss those topics on my blog but at the same time I would like you to know where I stand on certain issues.
If I write something, it’s what works with MY family. So here’s a few things you may not know about me and they may even piss you off but I don’t care because I’m not here for parenting advice. If I want advice I ask my Mom, not strangers.
With that said welcome to my small mind…
1. NONE of my kids were breastfed. I never got milk, meds and techniques didn’t prompt anything. I tried with all 3 and it never happened. My kids were ALL bottle fed and they seem to be doing just fine.
2. I will not homeschool my kids. I believe socializing with peers is a big part of childhood. If you choose to homeschool, more power to you. I don’t feel smart enough to teach my children, I’d rather them receive an education from someone who is trained to do so. My kids will never be a Kimmie Schmitt, tucked away underground alone for years, being taught by a dumbass.
I know kids who were homeschooled and as much shit as I may catch for this; some of them are weird, they live in their own little bubble and walk around waiting for the world to adjust to them. That’s not how life works, and if they attended a regular school they might have figured it out earlier in life.
3. I immunize my children. I believe the benefits outweigh the side affects. If you don’t want to immunize, thats on you. In the event of an outbreak my kids will be protected. It’s like wearing a seat belt. Why not do something that can prevent your death? Whatever your decision was, I don’t care because it ain’t got shit to do with me.
4. I don’t tolerate excessive bullying. There’s a fine line with getting teased and being bullied. A little teasing from peers is good for kids. Excessive bullying is not. Life isn’t always easy, there’s always going to be mean people. We need to allow our kids skin to toughen up. But we don’t want to break their spirit. It’s a fine line to teeter on, trust me I’ve teetered it already.
5. I am completely against co-sleeping. None of my children slept in our bed. It’s a hard habit to break and I enjoy sleeping. Brandon’s lucky he’s allowed to sleep in the bed with me.
6. Co-bathing is disgusting to me. I have nothing else to add to this, I avoid all conversations related to this topic because it grosses me out. No matter how innocent you may see it, I believe it blurs the line of right and wrong and can confuse a child. This is MOST DEFINITELY not up for debate.
I grew up in a time where not every cut needed a band aid. Not every story was told to my mom. The streetlights were my curfew. I played outside alone. I rode my bike in the street. I peed outside. I rolled around in dirt. I ate “ABC” gum off the sidewalk. I don’t remember ever riding in a carseat. I never looked both ways before crossing the street.
AND I’M STILL ALIVE!
I want every parent to know you have to do what’s best for your family. These are my thoughts and my views. What works in my house probably will not work in yours. That’s how diversity thrives and I never want it die.
“You SAW it. It’s your grammar. She doesn’t like you because your grammar sucks.”
Tears instantly ran down my face. My heart gained fifteen pounds in five seconds. The words on my phone became blurred. I no longer cared what he had to say. I needed to walk away.
My heart hurt.
There was no reason to reply to him, it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t been hackling with the hens about why I wasn’t invited to the new blogging group. He didn’t want to be in the middle but that’s exactly where he was- right dab in the middle of my heart ache. But it wasn’t his words that hurt, it was hers.
I sobbed for hours.
She was friendly to my face which gave her words the ability to slice my heart in half.
Tears slowly escaped one by one for days.
Time spent writing was time wasted in vain. It’s time I can’t get back, time that could have been spent with my husband and children.
I sulked for weeks.
Quitting was the most viable option. If every blogger lacked compassion, walking away would be easy.
Then again, I’m no quitter. And I am firm believer that no two people are exactly alike.
Announcing to my blogging crew the possibility of my departure was harder than telling my Puerto Rican father I was pregnant out of wedlock.
The “no, you can’t leave” I expected was actually “no, you aren’t leaving” from them. Their reaction melted my heart. I felt wanted.
These are people I have never met. People who could walk pass me on the street and not recognize me. People who have never heard my laugh or seen me smile. People who like me for who I am.
These people have taken me under their wings and taught me the tidbits of knowledge I should have acquired in school. The compassion in their criticism is crucial. Each of them have helped me become a better writer because of something they have done or said along the way. I have flourished because of them.
For that, I am forever thankful.
Without compassion from The Original Bunker Punks I would not be here writing this right now.
It’s always been a stupid holiday for stupid people in love, it was never for me. I never had a boyfriend on Valentines Day or even a date. I was never anyone’s Valentine. No pity parties allowed because never receiving a gift means never having to buy one. My glass is always half full- with booze of course.
Being forever alone wasn’t THAT bad.
My Mom bought me gifts as a child but that doesn’t count. It’s like taking your cousin to a dance. No one may know you’re cousins but you know and it’s enough to make you feel like a loser.
My Mother has always been an amazing gift giver. Every present from her is perfect, it’s exactly what you never knew you wanted, and you have no idea how you ever lived without it. I loved her gifts but yearned for more from the boys at school.
By the time middle school rolled around other girls were getting gifts from their boyfriends. Small boxes of chocolates, cards, balloons and some were even lucky to get stuffed animals. But that wasn’t me.
Even in high school I didn’t have many boyfriends. There were more friends who were boys than there were boyfriends. I wasn’t a complete loser but I never had a guy lined up on Valentine’s Day.
My ex-husband bought me a gift once. I can’t remember what it was so therefore it doesn’t count. The gift was overshadowed by him spending the previous night at a strip club in Tijuana. I was infuriated that my gift may have been accompanied by herpes. In lieu of the events leading up to the present exchange, his gift is irrelevant. In fact, let’s just consider the whole marriage null and void.
One disappointment after another.
But it all changed for me in 2009.
That was my first Valentines Day with Brandon. Jaelyn was 14 months old and I had been dating Brandon for about 9 months.
We lived together, we worked together, we had the same days off, so we spent all our time together. Love was in the air.
Brandon could have given me the prize out of a Cracker Jack box and I wouldn’t have cared. My expectations of the holiday were at an all time low. I braced myself for the worst.
But It’s still one of my most favorite holidays we’ve spent together.
Brandon gave me flowers. The roses were hot pink with veins showing through on each petal giving them a zebra print pattern. I walked by similar roses a millions times in the stores and commented on the pattern. The hot pink flowers were always my favorite.
Brandon listened to me.
The chocolate was in a frilly red heart. Ferrero Rocher a personal favorite. What’s not to love about a delicious little ball of chocolate filled with a wafer, creamy chocolate and a hazelnut? They melt in your mouth with just the right amount of crunch. Its amazing.
Brandon gets my love for hazelnuts.
The card was sweet. His personal message on the inside brought tears to my eyes. Such sweet and innocent words from a man declaring his undying love for me. No one had ever wrote sweet words to me and about me before. My heart smiled for days.
Brandon knew what I needed to hear.
The actual gift was perfect. A pair of white gold open heart earrings from Kay Jewelers. I had been admiring them on the commercial for months. I love everything the Open Hearts Collection stands for.
“If you leave your heart open, love will always find a way in.”
Brandon understands how important sayings like that are to me.
It wasn’t the gifts that meant so much to me. It was the meaning behind each one. They all held special place in my heart because of the hope they carried. Hope that I found someone who understands me, listens to me and wants to give me everything I want.
Brandon gave me hope, hope of a sweet forever spent together.
That year started a tradition. We ordered a pizza and watched a movie because that’s the kind of people we are. Neither of us need a fancy restaurant or expensive gifts, we just need each other.
We have spent every Valentines Day since, eating pizza and cuddled up on the couch watching whatever movie sounds good that particular night.
On that Valentine’s Day in 2009 I knew every year for the rest of my life I needed to be his Valentine.
I need to know someone understands me, listens to me and loves me- besides my Mom.
It never mattered before but it matters now because I’m one of those people who are stupid in love.
Brandon would give me anything in the world, but he won’t let me see his chin.
We have known each other since we were 14 and 15 years-old. Back then he didn’t have a beard, for obvious puberty reasons. It seems like a lifetime ago, which is prolly why my memory has failed when it comes to what his chin once looked like.
While mentally visualizing a younger Brandon, recalling some facial features is easy. His eyes were soft and innocent but have hardened over the years and his once chubby cheeks have slimmed down but my mind is blank when it comes to his chin. His face is a puzzle and his chin is the missing piece.
We have childhood pictures of him. In almost every one it’s not a front face view. His head is turned to the side or his chin is tucked towards his neck. There are even some that have a shadow covering his chin. Brandon has probably made every chin picture disappear, like the Bearded Mafia would reject him if they ever saw his chin. Is this a conspiracy theory or am I paranoid?
When first realizing the memory of his chin had slipped away, my heart had broken. How could I forget what my husbands chin looks like? My love for him is deep and passionate. Countless hours have been spent yearning for his body and yet somehow a piece of it has slipped away.
Since Brandon has declared numerous times the beard is here to stay, no one will ever see his chin. To beard or not to beard has never been an issue. My love for him is beyond physical appearances, with or without it he owns my heart, always and forever.
But that beard though.
He has such a sexy beard. It has a unique color. There’s red, brown and even blonde strands swirled throughout it. Each strand is thick and coarse but when pulled together it feels much softer than it looks. It’s long enough to twirl with my fingers and play with. Every time I stroke it, he closes his eyes, tilts his head back and moans. His response to my touch makes the beard stroke experience much sexier.
Lineup 5 bearded guys and blindfold me. Allow me to touch only their beards and I could tell you which one is my husband. I know his beard like the back of my hand.
The memory of Brandons chin may have slipped my mind but only because I have so many fond memories of his beard.
I’ve stroked his beard in other states. I’ve tugged on it jokingly. I’ve swirled it passionately. I even held it while we had our first kiss as a married couple.
Then, just when you think they’re low enough, lower them a tidbit more.
Turn on Uncle Kracker and follow me, everything will be alright.
1. Wake-up time“The kids will sleep-in, they had a tiring day yesterday.”
Are you crazy? Kids have everlasting energy, they can go days without sleep. Get over it because sleeping late is gone, it’s never coming back. When it does you’ve already hit the age when getting up early is cool.
Go to bed the night before knowing your kids will be up before the sun. Stop playing with your own emotions. You can sleep when you’re dead.
2. Breakfast time“Mommy’s making pancakes and bacon for you! “
Just stop right there. Don’t you dare make them shit. A bowl of cereal will be sufficient and even that’s too much. That way when they throw it at each other or you -that’s a possibility- you’re not as heartbroken. Don’t waste your time on a cooked meal, save your energy for the real catastrophes that are sure to follow.
Breakfast is usually rushed. Just throw a banana at the kids as they run to the bus stop and they become someone else’s problem.
3. Play time“We can make a craft, then the kids can play by themselves for a bit.”
No you can’t. Crafty people expect entirely too much out of life. Delete your Pinterest app. If you’re feeling crafty just spill glitter on the floor, slap paint on your yoga pants and glue your hand to a table because that’s the end game. You aren’t walking away with a cute homemade craft. You’re doing the Pinterest walk-of-shame when you post craft pictures on Facebook.
Kids don’t play by themselves. If they do, they’re up to no good and you need to investigate immediately.
4. Lunch time “Maybe I’ll take the kids to McDonalds for lunch, playtime and free wifi.”
You’re fucking crazy. Nothing in this world is free. That “free” wifi has a hefty price tag. One that can only be paid for in dignity. Climbing to the top of the play area and back down with a screaming child is not worth it. Don’t go inside McDonalds without a proper escape route and even then expect it to fail. It will fail.
Skip going out to lunch all together. It’s disastrous, no matter what restaurant you pick. If you give your kids peanut butter and jelly every day for lunch, when you give them Ramen Noodles, they’ll thank you for a hot meal.
5. Nap time “I’m going to nap with the kids today.”
Great idea, if they napped. Everyone needs to stop trying to make naptime happen. Even if it does, you have approximately 30 minutes. Take this time to make an afternoon cup of coffee and check your email. That’s about all you have time for.
If by some sudden stroke of luck you get more time, don’t clean. It’s a waste of time and energy. Kids are filthy animals who can destroy a clean house in 4 seconds.
6. Dinner time“Im going to make a homemade pot roast with all the fixings so we can have a nice family dinner.”
The only way that homemade pot roast is going to work is if you tossed it in the slow cooker before breakfast. As for the “fixings,” plain elbow macaroni with a slice of American cheese on top will do.
Be prepared to attend this “nice family dinner” donning riot gear because shit is about to get real. At this point, just order a pizza and pray for the best.
7. Bed time“The kids should go to bed without incident tonight, they had a tiring day.”
You had a tiring day. They have energy stored for weeks. See number 1 for an explanation, go to bed and stop having such high expectations.
Mommy will never forget the tiny baby doctors delivered. Your skin had an olive tone and your head was full of dark hair. Your eyes were big and round while your lips were small and pouty. You were the cutest baby around and always the most content in the nursery.
When you were little, cuddling was a favorite past time. You would lay on Mommy’s chest for hours. Keeping you close to Mommy’s heart, a place you knew belonged to you. Your head nestled into the crevice of Mommy’s neck. It was devastating when that spot no longer soothed your cries.
The moments of soft baby cries and sweet whimpers faded away and were replaced by your charming smile and captivating laugh. It wasn’t until you climbed onto Mommy’s lap that our world was complete again. It was your new favorite spot, and Mommy’s too. It’s the place where you tried your first solid food, ran to when you were hurt, and the place that helped you fall asleep at night. Mommy’s lap was your comfort zone.
It was a sad day when you stopped sitting there and replaced that time with half hearted hugs. You’re growing up too fast, slow down dude. No matter what your friends say, it will always be cool to hug your Mommy. You will never outgrow Mommy’s arms; they will always hug you and hold you tight. Your hugs are needed more than you know.
As time transpires Mommy hopes you continue to stay grounded. Be genuine to yourself, you are who matters the most. Continue doing things that make you happy. You already know the world is a harsh place but home can be your safe haven. Mommy and Daddy’s love for you is everlasting and will always provide you with an escape from the world.
Your struggles are prevalent, it makes watching you attempt situations heartbreaking. Mommy wants to make the world easier for you but that’s not how life works. The world will not form to meet your needs, you have to learn to overcome the obstacles and meet your own needs. Against all odds, you conquer endeavors with stride. That’s what makes you Mommy’s hero.
As long as you never lose your “can do” attitude, the world is your oyster. Mommy knows you will accomplish many wonderful things in your life but none of which will come easy. You can handle everything thrown in your path, Mommy will always believe in you.
Sometimes having Jenna and Jace follow you around can be annoying. You should be flattered your siblings look up to you and admire your every move. You are the oldest, Mommy and Daddy’s first born, you get to experience life before them. Watching you makes them eager to live. Be patient with them, they need you just as much as you need them. Jenna and Jace will always be your best friends.
There’s going to come a time in your life when you spread your wings and fly.