The Mended Pieces

Dear Zoey – Today you are one year old. 365 days have passed since you entered the world, and it has been by far some of the best and hardest days of my life. I remember being told on Friday afternoon, September 18, 2015, my dad (your grandpa’s) birthday, that my blood pressure was too high at 2 consecutive readings and they wanted to induce me the following day. I remember leaving elated, but overwhelmed because you were going to be 2 weeks early! I remember leaving with your daddy from the doctor’s office, trying to make plans of what we needed to do in the next 24 hours before we could check into the hospital to meet you. I remember calling my mom (your grandma) and freaking out because we were going to meet you. And then also calling your “bonus” grandparents, Grandma and Grandpa Lauer, to ask them if your brother could come to their house last minute to spend the weekend with them (which worked out perfect because they wanted him to come with t...

Right now, I am sitting with my daughter, rocking her in her room, and I am stressed out. Stressed because I had 2 mini snicker bars and coffee with creamer today...and a quarter of Logan's cookie from Panera. Stressed because I was going to have both kids in bed by 7:30. Had this little girl in bed by 7:20, kindergartner by 7:30, then baby woke up, so been rocking her on and off (because of course bedtime = party time to babies!) so now it is 7:55 and I'm still here. Stressed because I wanted to get up at 5am  to do a quick work out and the baby woke up at 4am  and fell back asleep at 5:15  and I did too, so no work out happened.  Stressed because I wanted to squeeze in a 30 minute work out, clean bottles, and pack lunches for  tomorrow  (and start studying for my GRE) before my husband gets home. Why am I so stressed about my body? As a woman in her early 30's I have this desire to have m...

Guys.... Life gets so busy. And then it is fall, and school is about to start, and you wonder - where is the first day of summer? Wasn't that just yesterday? I hate to break it to you, but that first day of summer was back in June. And now pools are closing up for the season, and you did not get to take advantage of them for another summer. It is getting dark earlier, so all of those walks and evenings you were going to spend on the deck after the kids went to bed to enjoy the summer sunlight, are gone. And suddenly, your schedule is busier then it was in the summer. Instead of one night of t-ball, there are swimming lessons to do in the evenings again, school and church activities, and your husband returns to class. That list you made at the beginning of the summer of all of the things you were going to accomplish - such as cleaning out some rooms and sorting through piles of papers, is getting tossed aside again. Because, well, time. But then you smell the leaves, t...

What a week this has been. For the past week, my little miss ZoZo has had a gastroenteritis something fierce.  I took her into the doctor last Tuesday as she was also running a fever, and then again on Saturday morning after a few sleepless nights of tummy pains, diarrhea (should I even utter that online??) and diaper rash. She is eating and drinking like a champ, so we have that - and her disposition is generally happy. But as I sit at work, I cannot help it but feel an extreme amount of guilt that I am not with her right now. My daycare is absolutely awesome. One of the teacher's sends me "snaps" during the day of Zoey, and keeps me updated if there is something that we are worried about. And right now, that worry is what is happening in that tummy and diaper of hers. I feel awful that daycare has to deal with all of her diapers, and that I am recommending new things to try. I wish I could just go and pick her up and take care of her and ultimately, just stay home wit...

Every time I sit down to write, because I just love to write, I then get bogged down with this idea that I need a plan. I need to lay out how I want this blog to go, what I am going to discuss, instead of it just being a forum of "life happening." Because...Life. Is. Happening. The last time I sat down to write I had a 4 month old. Today - I sit here with a 9 month old. The last time I sat down to write I was still trying to get in the swing of things of balancing work, life - mom life (to a 5 year old and baby), wife life - and I am still deep in the throes of that. I think what I figured out, and I continually figure out is that there is NO GOOD TIME TO JUST SIT DOWN AND WRITE. And then the next piece comes along with thoughts of "who is going to read this," or "am I too whiny?" or "is someone going to use this information against me?"  And then I remember - I already have gone down that road. At an old job I had, someone who used...

Every few days, since having a baby, I seem to go through this "how do I do everything that I want to do?" I usually cry erratically, have no desire to put my 5 month old down, and downright just want to hibernate! No, this is not postpartum depression, this is called "being a mom." Being a mom is incredibly rewarding, but it is also overwhelming, humbling, and messily wonderful. My expectations have changed drastically (read - LOWERED) when it comes to myself and my house, but have risen in other aspects (sorry husband!). I have read article after article about how stay at home moms are jealous of us working moms, and the same vice versa. I can tell you, from my viewpoint as a working mom that I do not know how I can do it all. My sense of cleanliness has plummeted. When I had my daughter I do not think my house was cleaned for about 2 months (ok...maybe more). I might clean a toilet here or there, or sweep the kitchen, but really cleaned? That was for the bird...

I didn’t plan to get divorced. It wasn’t part of the “plan” I “foresaw” for my life. I held onto my marriage for as long as I could. Faked my way through being happy, pretending everything was hunky-dory, even made up some stories along the way to make people think that I was ok, that our marriage was good. I told everyone how the first year of marriage was hard, but it seemed to get better in year two or three. If I’m being honest, that was a lie. It never got better. There were good days, maybe even a good week, but never a good “year.” It never got better. I told myself he needed to finish grad school, find a new job, we needed to add to our family, make more money – then finally, we would be ok, but it didn’t seem to come. I never told you about the tears. The anxiety. The pain. I never told you about how I would pray that the next year, the next month, the next week, the next day, the next hour – would be better. I would cry in the bathroom, the closet, next ...