Oh yes, Christmas was magical.

Yes, it's true. I have been on a blogging hiatus. I'm sure you noticed.

I had to go on this lapse for myself. Too much happening all at once.Too many posts I had forced myself to figure something out to write about. It makes me feel empty.  But for whatever reason, I felt like I had to keep up.  No more of that nonsense.

And then December 14th happened. And I couldn't really do much of anything the first few days. I was sad and I didn't want to write about it. Everyone was writing about it. I couldn't do my feelings or those beautiful kids justice. I still can't. And mostly, I couldn't justify being so mournful. I didn't feel like I had that right. So I'm still not going to attempt it. Honestly, what could I say that you haven't already heard or that you didn't already know. My husband brought it up last night while we were trying to drift off to sleep. I know that's a sorrowful, morbid place to go when your trying to find peace and slumber but I guess if anything that's what I want people to know. What I want people to do. To not ever FORGET it. But who am I? Just little ol' me. I blend.

Christmas was magical. Christmas is always magical. I feel like I don't really ever realize how enchanted it really is until it's over.  I try though. I try really hard. And I hang on to moments. And I recognize the ones that will end up being some of my favorite moments that we revert to when we talk about different Christmases with my children in the near future. Like Jackson's reaction to getting his phone. I'm not sure he has ever hugged Jacob so tightly before. Or Ella's squeal when she got the Taylor Swift "concert tickets". Holy high pitch Sister! You take the cake! I loved when Landon saw his bike sitting out on Christmas morning and instead of attempting to open up any other presents under the tree he walked straight over to his bike, gave us a quiet little "Whoa"...and walked it to the front door to head outside to ride it. Imagine his face when we opened the door to the pouring rain. Well actually, you would think he would have been disappointed by the rain falling in buckets but I don't think that would have stopped him. And my favorite, when my husband opened up the gift I made him. While fighting back tears of my own, I could see how much he loved it in his eyes and I could hear it in his reaction. He was so pleasantly surprised, "it's so much better than what I expected." - Husband said. Which raises the question....What the hell did he expect? And the best...the most memorable part of the entire day...The snow. It was so beautiful and it was the best Christmas present the Big Guy could have given us.

Oh yes, Christmas was magical.

And then I read a book....It was a Christmas gift from my husband. A very thoughtful one. I have wanted this book for months.  And he remembered.  The book changed my insides a bit. Reprogrammed by brain. But did so in a way that you probably won't notice. It was a subtle shift. It was quiet. And the change will be quiet too. But there will be change. You can't read a book like that and not feel compelled. Not crave something new. Something better. Something that says, "Growth is good. And it's time." I haven't figured out how yet. But that's okay. I'm not in a hurry. If anything, the author of the memoir makes me want to be a better version of myself. And she didn't do that on purpose. It's not meant to be a self help book but it turns out that people can inspire you in all sorts of ways.

Lastly, and this always happens to me after Christmas, I need to find a creative outlet. I need to make something.  I think it's because I have to put all the pretty things away. Although, I'm not going to lie...while all the pretty things are out I can't breathe. My living space closes in on me when the tree is up and the wreaths are on the wall and the stockings are hung by the chimney with care. So now that I can breathe again, I need to make something pretty. I have an innate desire to craft the heck out of something. Something that is less space consuming but can wave it's fabulous flag proudly. 

May the creative force be with me.

Happy New Year. Be safe my friends.

Kidless on Christmas

Being a single mom is hard enough as is. Being a single mom on the Holidays is by far the worst. I know. I've been there. And it was hard. And I would never wish that upon any momma. Ever.

I know a Mom that is going to be without her baby on Christmas morning for the first time this year. I went to bed last night thinking of her. That led to a lot of old memories coming to the surface. I got angry all over again. I became really sad all over again. And the tears came all over again.

I remember the first Christmas my kids went away. Ella was nearly a year old and Jackson was a little over 3 years old. I was so happy to be with my babies but in the back of my head I knew my time was going to be short. It would never be long enough again. I knew their dad would be there to pick them up and take them away and I would be left with a lit up tree, wrapping paper every where and toys that weren't being played with. I would be left with the reminder that I was all alone. Thankfully, my mom was there. She helped me put together Jackson's Thomas Train table the night before and set out gifts. She actually helped me in more ways than I realized until now. But it wasn't the same. I wanted to spend that day with my children. I already missed them and they weren't even gone yet. I'm positive I cried because of that before they even left.

And then he came. And they were gone. My house was filled with silence. Deafening silence.

I wanted to stay home. I wanted to feel sorry for myself. I wanted to cry on my own terms. In my own bed, balled up like an infant. But my mom wouldn't let me.

Some how she convinced me to leave the house that day. To go visit family. I did NOT want to. Not at all. I'm positive I was not the cheeriest of people. I thought being around my nephews would make it better. It made it worse. I felt the somberness creep its way back into my aching heart. I felt resentment and anger come back in the form of a lump in my throat. I made several trips to the bathroom to let the tears go that I was so desperately trying to fight back. And then I had to wait it out in the bathroom for the puffiness to disappear from under my eyes.  I did this act consistently through out the rest of the day.

As horrible as it was, something happened that day that changed my life forever. I "met" my future husband. I met the man who, in the next few years, would be my rock and my shoulder to cry on when the Holidays came around and I wasn't with my kids.

And that he was.

Two years after that was the first time I didn't wake up on Christmas morning with my kids. The first time since both of them had come into my world. The first time I didn't hear the pitter patter of feet in the early morning hours of Christmas. The first time we didn't go to bed checking on Santa's location to see if he was near. The first time the house wasn't in an upheaval with wrapping paper and toys before 8 a.m. The first time I didn't care about ever getting out of bed. And so I didn't. I didn't get out of bed for hours. I layed there and I cried. I allowed myself to be sad. I allowed myself to say, "It's not fair!",  I allowed to let it all go. And Jacob just said, "I'm sorry." And he let me be. He was patient and as understanding as he could have been. He never made me feel bad for crying so much or for being so sad. Or for feeling angry or sorry for myself. Never. Not once. He just let me be.

It's been 7  years since I had my first Christmas without my kids all day. Their little brother will never know what it's like to spend an entire Christmas Day with his brother and sister. That's not what I want for any of them but it's our reality. It's been 7 years and I still cry when we drop them off at their Dad's after lunch. I won't have them this year on Christmas morning so I am sure I will be a mess all over again. Only, it's a different version of the mess I once was. I have other things to look forward to. The be thankful for. I know my husband will hug me extra tight and kiss me and say, "I'm sorry. I love you."  I know the excitement on Landon's face on Christmas morning will be evident whether Jackson and Ella are there or not. Yes, I have many other things to look forward to.

I hope you have someone to fill the void for you. Not that your kids are replaceable but emptiness can be filled with love. With understanding. With Patience. With Family. This is my wish for you this Holiday season and every season to follow. It won't be easy and it doesn't have to be. Time lessons the blow, that I promise. And tears are therapeutic.  I pray you always have someone when you don't have your munchkins. And as cliche as this may be, remember, that in the scheme of things, in this big, beautiful, ugly world we live in, it could be so much worse. We truly are blessed beyond what we deserve. All those blessings come shining through in our kids. It's a reminder that God loves us and He is looking out for us.

God loves you, He is looking out for you.

Be well my sweet friend. And Merry Christmas.

With Love,

Amy Marie

Taggin' Tursday??

 Okay so oops.... I missed Crystal's Taggin' Tuesday by two days. I procrastinated, I admit it.

Either way, prepare to have your mind blown.

Random Facts About Me

My husband is my bestest friend. 

I eat 2 egg whites every morning and cannot have them without Frank's Red Hot Sauce. That stuff is the bomb diggity.

My husband's brother is my brother in law....squared. And my sister is also my sister in law. 

When I run and when I'm trying to sleep is when I come up with my blog post ideas. I am working on a SOA one currently.  Because I can. 

 

This conversation just happened. (btw: "stree" is slang on the street for....street...Yeah)

My dumb dog still pees every where. Bed. Couch. Floor.

I put Vaseline on my eye lashes at night before bed. C'mon eye lashes, grow! Damn it!

I love the feel that a lit lamp can give a bedroom. 

My husband paints my toes. What? It saves us lots of money! 

I believe our lives are a series of events that are meant to be. But we have to be content with not knowing the reason for EVERYTHING that happens to us. 

I love the beach. Hate swimming in the ocean. 

I love getting new, fun colored, loofah's. 

I tried to pierce my sister's ears when we were little. I kinda, sorta got in trouble for that. But I blame the movie, Grease. 

I use to have a huge crush on Corey Haim.

I get overly excited and scream with joy when my 3 year old says, "I love you most." 

The End. 

Mind Blowing, wasn't it??