So, a week ago today my husband came home after 239 days of deployment with the 15th MEU. In the early, before sunrise, hours of the morning the three ships of the MEU started unloading Marines and gear around the beaches of Camp Pendleton. My husband would be taking his final steps off of the USS Rushmore around 0830, onto an LCU, which would bring him to the Del Mar beach, and back to his battalion.

While all of this is going on, I’m at home rushing around getting myself and my son ready. Me; hair, makeup, outfit. My son; the usual morning of getting breakfast, dressed, and ready for school. Yes, DevilPup went to school that morning. You see, our homecoming isn’t like all the glorious ones you see on the news/tv where the Marines (or servicemen of respective branch) get off the bus, have that MAGIC MOMENT where wife wraps here arms around her Marine’s neck, they have that oh-my-goodness-your-finally-home-and-the-stress-and-anxiety-is-finally-melting-out-of-my-body-and-i’m-so-incredibly-happy-to-see-you kiss, he bends down and scoops up all of his children in his eager and longing arms, and they all walk off into the sunset together as one big happy, and finally whole again, family.

ummmmm, yeah. Not so much.

My husband was getting off the bus, and then heading back to work. There’s a lot of boring details about the ‘why’, but I’ll spare you. It’s just the reality of life in the military. TV is just blowing smoke up your ass.

So I knew better than to take all of the kids with me for the big homecoming moment of finally having their daddy back, just to have to go home without him so he could get what work that needed to be done, wrapped up. So I decided I’d take my son to school, get a sitter to stay with the girls, and go alone to greet my love off the bus. I’ll admit when I first found out that this was how the day was unfolding, I was pretty pissed off. I wanted to take him home! I wanted the perfect homecoming!! I deserved the perfect homecoming!! But, as the day approached I found that this might actually be kind of perfect after all. I’d go to see my husband off the bus, and get my missed-you-so-much kiss, get some great pictures of my Marine and I, and not have to worry about keeping the kiddos entertained in the moments before my husband arrived. Then, after my son got out of school we’d go back over to the BN, and I’d be able to take great pictures of my kids having that same missed-you-so-much wrapped up in daddy’s arms moment. Perfect.

HA!! again…. not so much.

So, my early-riser son gets me up at the usual 0515. I sip coffee, he eats breakfast, and we start getting ready for our day. He’s dressed for school, and I’m doing my thing with the hair and makeup. Great. I take him to school, give him a huge kiss and hug, and tell him to, like in Daddy’s last note sent through the Semper Fi Fairy Door, try to concentrate today and I’ll see him soon and we’ll all go get daddy together.
I get home, finish up getting ready, let the sitter in, and when my girlfriend comes we head out towards my husbands warehouse to wait….

She and I are sitting there chatting together. It’s the usual scene around us. The MCCSCP rented tents are up. There’s breakfast foods laid out. Waiting family and friends are sitting around chit chatting, trying not to melt in the already sticky heat. We’re catching up on kids, work, and life in general. Then, in a moment of curiosity, I turn and look over my left shoulder. There’s two white buses parked. Empty. No Marines on it.
WHEN DID THEY GET THERE?? Seriously!! My gf and I both looked at each other dumbfounded. Neither of us heard the buses pull up. No one announced the Marines approaching. No one around us rushed off to greet the incoming buses. They were just….. there. So did I miss him? Did I miss my magic moment? What the hell is going on right now?

I text him: where r u
He texts back: sitting in office didn’t see you

HOLY SHIT YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW!!! The mixture of emotion in this moment is unreal. UNFUCKINGREAL. At this point nothing, NOTHING, is working out at all how I had hoped. No family walking off into the sunset. No glory moment melting kiss when he steps off the bus. And? Because it’s so damn hot way too fucking early in the damn morning I’m already starting to sweat my freaking makeup off.
I want to scream, but really I just want to find him. See him. Touch him. Hold him. Smell him. Kiss him. I just want him.

So my friend and I take off for his office. I’m zigzagging through Marines. Clearly on a mission to find my man, they kindly step out of my way with grins on their faces. Get to his office. Find…. nothing. It’s empty. (the holyshit factor is starting to creep in again) One of his Marines tells me that he’s just stepped outside. I can only presume it’s to find me. And as I just came in from outside and didn’t see him on my way, there’s no sense in turning around and backtracking. So I headed towards the warehouse bay area. Sure enough, there he was standing in the opening, looking outside, phone in hand and to his ear, mine buzzing in my pocket let me know he was calling me, trying to see where I was. My pace quickened. The warehouse was noisy, but as soon as I got in earshot of him I yelled out, and he quickly snapped around.

….and I had my perfect moment. In seconds I ran to him, closing the gap of the last few moments of our 239 days of being apart from each other. My arms flung around his neck, lips locked, and then eyes met followed by ‘I love you’, and ‘I missed you’, and ‘welcome home’.

Come to find out, trying to plan for perfect was pretty unnecessary. I mean, really it’s the military. Do we ever get perfect? Not usually. At least, not how we think perfect ought to be in the moments trying to seek it. But my perfect came all on it’s own. All I needed was to see his face again. To touch and hold him again. To hear his voice. My love is home. My family is whole again. Everything is perfect.

In her Brazilian accent, as she was herself a Brazilian, which just made it all the more official.

So, while I know this is a very TMI and personal topic, I felt I would share a bit of my experience for those who have always been curious, but maybe too afraid to jump off the ledge. Because…. that was me. Had I read a post about getting the nooks and crannies waxed with an honest opinion about it all, maybe I would have done the deed a few years sooner. The only reason I finally muffed up enough courage is because I have a girlfriend who also gets them regularly done, and gave me the whole low-down on the down-low hair removal.

Ok, so really? It’s NOT THAT BAD!!

Going in there I felt a little…. shy. I mean who wouldn’t? You’re spreading your legs and showing your hoo-hoo to a stranger. If you’re a mother, you’ve done this before. But at least you have the mentality of, ‘this is a doctor. they see, touch, poke, and scrape vagina all day, every day, for the medical and health benefit of women’, and so we though we don’t like getting our yearly pap, you do it without too much weirdness. Well, that’s how I sort of looked at this deal. This chick sees a lot of muff’n tuff on the daily. She’s a professional. No weirdness. And? Sarah, ala Skin By Sarah, was fabulous. She was sweet, and right away made me feel comfortable. She has her own room in a salon, and I undressed from the waste down as she prepped the wax and got everything she’d need aligned. If there was anything that really felt odd to me in the whole to-do, it was probably spreading my bottom-cheekers. That’s something you don’t do in all those many paps and preggy checks. But, that area is actually the easiest and painless in the whole waxing process, so no biggie.

After that came the actual chica waxing. She pretty much start at the top of the pubic area, and worked her way down and eventually getting into the inner inners. I know what you’re wondering. Did it hurt?
Dude. I’m not gonna lie. It definitely does not feel like butterfly wings are tickling your hoo-hoo. If you’ve every had your eyebrows waxed, it honestly compares to that. The bikini part, in my opinion, stings more than the actually inner bits waxing does. The inner portion is like the eyebrows, slightly more intense. She rips the wax away, and you’ll probably tense and go WHOA, but then it’s done. The area quickly calms down, and you may just feel that sensation of warmth on the surface of the skin, but really there’s no major pain.

If anything, the majority of the discomfort came later that evening. Sarah advised me to help the redness and irritation go away quickly to apply hydrocortisone to the area, and warned me no hot showers/baths, and no sex for 24 – 48 hours. (Obviously the sex part was easy to avoid since my husband is still currently deployed.) So, I did as she instructed, bought and applied cream, and took a lukewarm shower. Wore an oversized shirt for my jammies that night, and went to bed. Once in the night I woke up; I had rolled over onto my stomach, and the discomfort of my skin touching the sheets woke me up. Still, not really overly painful for anything, but my chica was pretty tender.

Today is day 8 post waxing, and everything is still super smooth. If you tend to keep your area south of the border clean and tidy, this may be something you would really like. If the thought of the pain is what’s stopping you, don’t let it. Seriously!! It’s not that bad. And you’ll love the results. Just make sure that when you go in for the first time you go in freshly washed, and with hair at least 1/4″ long, but not too long. A rule of thumb? No longer than the width of your thumb or forefinger. And wear something cozy like yoga pants and soft undies. You’ll be glad you did on the way out.

Questions? Don’t hesitate to ask me in the comments below.

OH YEAH!! (see how easily kids distract us?) Lost keys in the abyss of my purse. Not cool Because after shopping and making it safely back to the car, now I desperately want to get the kids back in the car so I can get my groceries loaded, hand out snacks, get on the road, and head home. But…. crap… where’s my keys? I know I put them in my bag… (shake bag) … I hear them…. (shake bag again) …. ok I think they’re over here…. nope … (shake bag again) ah ha! Got em!!!!
Whew!

See????? You can’t tell me you haven’t at some point lost your keys in your purse. And it’s frustrating. Even if you’re kid free.

There’s not a super crazy cool solution to that problem.

Magnetic Purse Charms by MCB Innovations.

These charms are super cute and their magnet is VERY strong. I just place it at the top of my bag/purse and it never budges. And? My keys are there waiting for me. Every. Single. Time.

See? And that first picture you saw at the beginning of this post was MY purse with MY charm on it. I love it.
It’s pretty. Stylish. Can go on anything you carry. I really don’t know what more I can say about the… the fabulous thing about this unique product is that it clearly speaks for itself!

And?? Well, I want you to see for yourself. So? I’m giving one away. Just in time for Mother’s Day!
***quick NEED TO KNOW INFO!!! This giveaway is SHORT! Starting at 5/2/13 and ending 5/4/13 at NOON PST.
***If you would like to purchase a magnetic purse charm as a Mother’s Day gift, you really should do so BY 5/4 to ensure that it arrives on time
***FREE SHIPPING is currently being offered on the site until 5/10/2013
ok…. so lets get down to it.

Below you’ll see the Rafflecopter doohicky. Make sure you first do the MANDATORY entry, and then indulge yourself in all the extras. Entries will be checked!! Ready? Set? GO!!!

***This is the charm up for grabs in this giveaway!!***

a Rafflecopter giveaway

come back Sunday to see if YOU WON!!

…let me explain…

Me.
Well, this whole entire deployment has been a bit of a rough ride. From the day my husband left, week after week there has been some sort of hurdle for me to jump over, some sort of obstacle for me to get through. Every single week (and i’m not exaggerating AT ALL) there has been SOMETHING to have to overcome. You know what? It’s exhausting. It wears you down not just physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. And who do I vent to? Honestly, not very many people. In fact, only three have I really leaned on at various moments throughout this deployment. Each of these ladies offering a different type of support in their own way. Even still, though, there are just times the heart feels beaten down. Your brain is numb. You’re overall just sort of checked out and running on autopilot. Drained. And I just am not going to sit there and spill out every down moment as they come along. I keep it to myself. Lock it up. Pull on my big girl panties, suck it up, and move on.

So when the phone rings and someone randomly calls me, I smile and say that everything is ok. We’re doing great!! Chugging right along! Taking it day by day. I say it with a smile, because you can actually hear a smile through the phone, and be the happy, strong, and confident person they are expecting to hear. And this is who you’ll see when you see me face to face as well. Why? No, I’m not being fake. This is actually me. I’m a positive and optimistic person. My point, though, is that even when a person is smiling, you just don’t know if in fact they could be possibly hurting. Or maybe they’re just worn. Exhausted. Feeling a little low. Whatever. Maybe, they could really just use a hug.

One night, after I’ve gotten all my kids to bed, I’m sitting there thinking in my mind about all the steps I’ll need to take to handle the current obstacle, and how I’m just spent and so ready for this deployment to be over. As I’m doing this I’m mindlessly tapping through different apps on my phone, eventually landing in my contacts list. Out of the blue, as I’m scrolling through my contacts, a thought pops into my head; how many people in my contacts are feeling exactly as I’m feeling right now? Like my, they are probably dealing with something. Like me they are braving out with a smile on their face, probably keeping it to themselves, but really needing a hug.

How can I hug you?

It first started with one of my husbands sisters. She almost always has a full plate. So I sent her a text, something along the lines of, ‘hey. I just wanted you to know I was thinking of you and that I love you.’ She responded back, and the text had meant a lot to her. She said it had really come at the perfect moment.
I’ve sent texts to my sisters. One said, ‘in case you were wondering… I think you’re pretty great’.
I’ve sent messages to my bestie, and other people in my contacts. Either something positive and uplifting, or just a note to let them know I was thinking of them.

Then, something special happened. I got a random text back that said, ‘in case you haven’t heard… you are a pretty great mom.’
My heart about exploded. I mean, that really felt great!! I knew what I was doing for others was nice, but had yet to experience it personally on the receiving end, and truly it feels awesome. It was the warm fuzzy of awesome I needed that day. And even if it came at a moment when I wasn’t in particular need, it would have been more than welcome.
Now that I’ve experienced the warm fuzzy on the receiving end, I’ve been even more motivated to send my random CARE messages.

So there it is. It’s easy to get caught up in our own everyday lives. The good, the wonderful, the bad, and the ugly. Just remember that someone you know and love could very well be experiencing a low tide moment. Maybe they just would love to hear from you.
Step out of your own life bubble. Take the time to care.
One person a day.

Do you accept my challenge?

wait…. did you say once before you don’t like revolving all your writing around the military?

Yeah. I sort of did say that I guess. But, I meant that more for my own blog where I’m going to post something once or more a week. I personally am more than a military wife and momma. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t have things I’d like to share on the life. I find my writing on SheKnows valuable because 1)I’m sharing my experiences with others who can possibly get something from it, and doing so on a much larger and more widely recognized platform than my own little bloggity-blog; and 2) I feel like I have the opportunity to give the civilian world a peek into the military life, which has always been an interest of mine, and have a better chance of making that connection on SheKnows than I do just writing here.

So, it’s a great opportunity and so far I’ve really been enjoying it!

I’d love for you to come and see some of what I’ve written. As of today I’ve shared 8 articles. I’ll list them below for you, starting with the most recent, so you can give it a quick click.
Also? Clicking that blue LIKE facebook button, or one of the other LIKE/SHARE buttons lets me know it’s being read and liked, which is great feedback.

A peek into a military child’s heart through play

One event at a time: Countdown to the end of deployment

6 books to help children cope with deployment

Deployment can strengthen the bonds of marriage

Our magical door to communication during deployment

The government’s sequester hits our military hard

The importance of routine after deployment

Saying Goodbye: The beginning of deployment

So…. have you noticed a trend here?
DEPLOYMENT!!!!
Which doesn’t last forever. Ours is drawing near an end. Thank goodness. But still. It’s been an easy topic to provide articles on. And now that well is about dried up. So what’s next? Anything in particular you’d like to me write about? Remember, my articles are geared toward parenting/family life in the military. So I could maybe write something about how our family went about making the decision to get a dog. Er, um, well when we do get a dog which is a current discussion my husband and I are having. Or maybe some of the fun activities that are family friendly on our own base? I don’t know. YOU TELL ME! What’s of interest to you? I’d love your thoughts and feedback.
No lie. I’d really love it.
So feel free to leave me a comment below, if you don’t mind.

http://www.sheknows.com/parenting/articles/986757/military-families-saying-goodbye-at-start-of-deployment

So why didn’t I ever speak up and talk to anyone about it? Aaahhh, and now we get to the third corner of our triangle. Well, for starters, Honor Thy Mother And Thy Father. My background is Catholic. And though my mother and step-dad joined one of those non-denominational churches but never really had a strong focus of God in the house, I knew the 10 Commandments and often heard that one in particular echo in my mind. If I told, I’d dishonor her. The whole family, actually. Would anyone even believe me? It would devastate my grandmother. And the part about my grandmother was the part that worried me the most. More than my mother, I couldn’t hurt her.
But still, the woman was my mother. And, I was (am) her child. What’s that funky little thing that all children (even as a teen) give their parents?
UNCONDITIONAL LOVE
I loved her. Didn’t she love me? Wasn’t it automatic that all mommy’s loved their kids? Maybe, if I just tried a little harder, or kept out of the way, or……. if I just take it, it’ll be over with soon and then she’ll be happy again. She does love me. She’s just angry with me.

Now I’m a mother. Sadly, this horrifyingly scary way of reacting to stress has been passed to me. Actually, maybe learned is a better term. I don’t know. But I know that when I’m stressed, anxiety high, angry, overly-tired, I feel this reaction coming from within me. I get tense. My hands quiver, and sometimes clench. My shoulder and forearms flex. And then…… I get control of myself, take a deep breath, walk out of the room if I have to. I fucking refuse to ever let my children be placed in the position in their lives to have to question my love and loyalty to them. To be a mother, to have and love, and almost die for my children, I look back at everything I went through and feel a strong hatred for the woman who is my mother. Or, I did. We no longer speak, actually. Over her starting facebook drama (it’s ok, you can laugh) on my page, I decided that I had had enough and was no longer going to subject myself to the constant negativity and verbal shit storm I so frequently had to deal with. I was done constantly walking on eggshells, even as an adult, so as to try and not upset her. I was over ….all of it. It all came to a head, and I reflected on all the past years, and months, and weeks, and days, and decided it was time to just close that chapter and move on. When I did, the fog finally lifted. The hatred, the remorse, the wishing and hoping had all been lifted.
But, that’s not my point…. let me get focused again…

the point: What is there to be aware of?

I think back and reflect on it all and really am not sure how to recognize what about me would be a signal to know what I was going through. So how do I tell YOU what to look for in another child? How can you be aware of an abused child, when the truth is that most of us sit in silence?

Does the kid crave attention, but get on your nerves? Shy away from a hug? Not feel comfortable participating in a group setting? Seem slightly introverted? <- all some of MY traits (past and present) that I now think are products of the environment that I grew up in.

Show everyone kindness. Even the annoying kid. Always be encouraging. Be loving. There is a chance that the kid/child/teen in front of you who looks completely normal on the outside, is hurting very much on the inside. You may be the breath of fresh air that child needs at the moment. To feel really normal. To feel some self worth. To feel that it’s possible to be really loved. I may not be able to tell you exactly how to recognize an abused child, or to be aware of child abuse, but I can tell you that every child deserves to be loved and treated like a human being.

Did you know that it’s also Child Abuse Awareness month?

It’s true. And I actually haven’t seen too many posts on the subject. So, if you don’t mind, I thought I’d contribute one.

First let me warn you that this might get a little lengthy. I’m just going to start typing and let the words land where they are. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve written, deleted, rewritten, edited, deleted, and written this post. Or my thoughts on the topic. Why? It’s difficult for me to talk about. I’m sharing my personal story. One I’ve only talked about with a very small amount of people. I can name them all on one hand. There are probably family members who will read this post and flat out call me a liar. There are close friends of mine who will read this, probably in complete disbelief.

What went on in my house behind closed doors pretty much stayed behind closed doors. I can only name two times that I remember that my mother lashed out in front of people. The first time I was four years old. That was also my first bloody nose. Growing up she’d retell the story, but of course it was tailored in such a way that she was the real victim in the situation. We were at a church function for divorced parents. She felt under pressure for whatever reason. She was trying to get a kite up in the air and as she ran to get it launched I followed behind crying and screaming because… I just wanted the kite. Stress. Stress got to her. And she reacted with a full blown adult backhand to a four year old face.

Stress.

I’m not making excuses for her or saying that a certain emotional overload makes it all ok. I am saying, however, I kinda get it. Though, it seemed she was stressed a lot. She was always stressed on the weekends my step-brother and step-sister came over. Stressed over work. Stressed in an unhappy marriage. Stressed over family. Stressed. And when we’re stressed we all need to release it, right? She did. I have been slapped, backhanded, kicked, dragged down the stairs by my feet so my face it every stair on the way down, and pinned down and beat. I remember my breaking point where I began to laugh at her instead of dodge her hits. When she’d no longer see me cry over the pain.

My abuse wasn’t just physical, either. Though, it took looking back as an adult and mother to see the extensive emotional and mental abuse. In my almost-mid-thirties I’m just now finally getting confidence in myself, who I am as a person, and even my looks. When you grow up never being good enough, it’s a hard thing to kick. Every single ‘when I grow up I want to be…’ dream I had and shared was knocked down with a, ‘you’re not smart enough for college, you barely get by now. Besides, it takes a lot of years for that kind of degree. You won’t like it’, or something along those lines, just varied depending on the latest dream.
When I wanted to talk about my feelings, what I was really doing was once again being the victim. Always the martyr. ‘When are you going to grow up and stop all of this bullshit?’

Yeah. Believe me there’s more details to it all than that, but I’m trying my hardest to not turn this in to a 3000 word post. You get the idea.

So. Why didn’t anyone ever notice? My best friend growing up remembers how she, ‘could be a real bitch sometimes, but pull it off with a sharp business smile… I never really felt comfortable around her’. But most people who knew me and had met my mother would say that, in their opinion, she was an upstanding lady. I can tell you that she had a presence to her that was bold, knowledgeable,  and demanding of respect. In zero-point-two-nine seconds she could make you feel about as small as an ant. So, without really realizing it, but to look back now it’s clear, many people were intimidated by her. And you do immediately speak up to those who intimidate you? Not usually. And what about me? My appearance? Where were the bruises?
Mostly, hidden. I rarely wore shorts. Always jeans. Surprisingly, I never remember my face bruising. It was almost like she’d perfected her backhand into a non-bruising art form. Considering the impactful blow, that’s actually a bit impressive.

What about my behavior? Don’t those who are severely troubled at home act out? Maybe. But what signs are you looking for? I can give you two of mine that, again looking back now, should have maybe been taken a bit more seriously. The first one is a mild trait. Actually, probably pretty average. I craved attention. I was always talking in class. Sometimes the class goofball. Never rude, but none the less it was still a disruption. Which, naturally, just annoys teachers. So you become the kid that they roll their eyes at when you enter the room at the beginning of class, not the kid that should maybe get a closer glance. Never the kid to want to worry over.

The second was more of a moment, an incident, than a trait. I was in middle school. In front of me sat this kid who aggravated me to the core. His voice, his obnoxious curls, the dumb things he talked about. Everything about him made my teeth clench. For once there was a kid that talked more in class than I did, but since I’d already made a name for myself I was the one to get in trouble. Every. Single. Time. And I hated it. Well, on this one particular day there he was. Bugging me. Over. And over. And over. And over. No matter how many times I asked him to leave me along, he wouldn’t. Of course I’d already been asked to stop disrupting class, which added to the anger as I was innocent. Was. My reaction wasn’t. And while I don’t actually remember the act of reaching out and choking this kid, the fact is that I did indeed do it. Off to the guidance counselor I go. Mom gets called in. Principal gets called in. Blah blah, if you’re a parent (or ever been in school), you can probably picture the scene. Was the actual act of what I’d done the focus of discussion? No. Mostly my overall behavior, but yes the moment and my ‘emotional outcry’ was discussed. And what do you suppose the reason for my problems were? ‘Oh, well, I’m divorced and her father isn’t really a big part of her life. I’ve noticed a lot of problems stemming from that. And, her step-dad recently had a heart attack so things have been a little chaotic lately.’ And there you have it folks. No matter what or when or how or who, the answer was always, 1) product of an absentee father/divorce, and 2) step-dad/step-siblings. And I guess that was enough for everyone, because whenever my mother had to come to school to discuss something I’d done, those were always the answers and no one ever questioned that. And, ok I guess, why should they? Maybe I was just one of those odd-ball kids that would never completely fit in or conform.

To review, we see that the physical evidence was never super prevalent, and environmental evidence didn’t amount to enough that would raise alarms.

So why didn’t I ever speak up?
Please come back tomorrow to read the second part of my story, to be aware of an abused child.

**** edit – 5/8/13 I have added this post to the PYHO link up.

I try to be green. I’m not perfect, but I put in a decent effort.
But ‘being green’ isn’t all about conserving water and recycling. I mean, that’s definitely some things that are good to do, but I think we overlook the small things we can do to brighten up our personal shade of green.

I’m a big fan of upcycling. Or maybe you prefer to call it reusing, or repurposing. Either way, I like to make use of items that could easily be tossed in the trash.
This weekend I going through some toys and found a few that were broken. Easily trashable items, right? Yes. And all us moms know that after we see the same broken toy making it’s rounds around the house, and probably even step on it a few times, we much prefer to throw the junk out. That’s the point where I was at this weekend.

Until I saw this cute little John Deere tractor. With the sun shining in through the front door, smell of grass and moisture filling my senses, my thoughts drifted to gardening. And idea of something cute and super easy smacked me in the think box.

Why not make a little mini succulent garden that can sit in my kitchen window? (this will also make a cute gift for a friend. i have a couple that recently moved to the san diego area that i’ll be gifting one to as a housewarming gift)

I fixed it by using super fab super glue to secure the bucket back on the tractor, and secure the arms high in the air. Then, just mashed in a bit of dirt and some baby succulents.

That’s it. No lie. It was that easy. Even if you have a brown or black thumb, you can do this. To care for your garden, just add one to three drops of water weekly, unless it already looks moist. If it does, just leave it be. But don’t let it completely dry out, either. When your succulents outgrow their small planter, you simply move them to something a little larger.

OH!! And let me share this other little Earth Day to do with you.

Composting.

It’s easy. Just reuse your coffee cans/jugs, and fill it with your used coffee grounds, fruit/veggie scraps, and egg shells. Once it’s fairly full I let it sit out in the sun in the yard. I leave it for a month or two (not opening the lid, but giving it a good shake once a week), and then spread it in my garden. Last year my roses exploded after giving them this plant-loving treat. And? Bonus!! If the eggshells aren’t completely broken down, NO WORRIES! The little shards and fragments help to keep snails and slugs out of your garden and away from your beauties without harsh chemicals.

i almost missed this moment this morning. last week i was invited to go out on the ladies night event of a lifetime. that fab night out op happened last night. i would have been up near LA partying it up with my socal friends,
and jenny mccarthy.
and i mean the full works. limo ride up. free entry to an awesome comedy show. drinks galore. and? fun fun fun with lots of my lady friends.
sounds awesome, right?
of course it does. and i really wanted to go. but what was the main reason that caused me to talk myself out of it?
money. mostly.
an overnight sitter would have been a $100 minimum. (and to be honest, my heart probably couldn’t handle leaving my babies without my husband here just yet)
then of course i’d need an outfit. i have no nice going out clothes currently, as i’ve recently de-junked my closet.
and i’d need a fresh pedi, and might as well get a mani, too, since i know i won’t have time to do my nails ahead of time.
ok…. so maybe i could have skipped the mani/pedi…..
but, the sitter cost, and horrifyingly heart-stopping thought of leaving my children overnight, stopped my in my tracks and yanked the fab gno fantasy out of my brain.

last night there was a slight sting as i watched all of the fun pictures of my friends’ night circle around the social media circles.
they were out looking gorgeous and having a fabulous time.
that could have been me.
that should have been me.

it wasn’t.
instead of living it up i stayed home. my mommaheart wouldn’t and couldn’t allow me to go.
this morning as i was sipping my coffee, and slightly chuckling as thoughts of the rotten hangovers my friends my possibly be suffering from briefly infiltrated my snarky but admittedly slightly jealous brain,
this moment with my son unfolded before my eyes. it was like the universe was purposely reminding me of what’s truly important. that, though i’ve sacrificed a lot of fun moments and girl time through this deployment,
i’ve got to enjoy a lot of precious moments and one-on-one time with my kids. especially my son, who is a complete daddy’s boy and will probably ditch me the moment his father is within reach.
ok, not completely ditch me. but i’ll no longer be number one. and… i’m ok with that. a boy needs his daddy, and i love that mine son is completely enamored with his father.
these are the moments we must cherish.
these are the moments that come and go in a blink, and are just too easy to miss.

today, this morning, i was reminded of what’s important and had some very valuable time to reflect and appreciate.

Three years ago today we completed our family, and brought to the world the two most beautiful girls it will ever see.

But something else happened. Three years ago I fought for you, for love, and won.

I’m sure the actual time span of it all was quick, but for me the end was moving in slow motion.
I remember laying there and slowly slipping. Falling. Fading. The words from the anesthesiologist of what the possibilities were quickly echoed in my mind. I could feel my body shutting down like someone had cut the engine and the rotors were slowly coming to a halt. I remember how peaceful it felt the farther I slipped, and how easy it would be to just let go and let the black blanket over me.

I remember thinking of you. Knowing that you’d be ok. That there was no better man in this world to raise my children without me. That they would always know love and you’d have all the patience you needed to get through everything. I felt safe in that knowledge. I slipped away a little farther.

Then I pictured your face. Thought of holding your hand. I’m sure all of my thoughts and realizations, though feeling like several minutes or longer, happened in moments. Because next I panicked. I’d never see your face again. Only from a distance. Would I be able to hear your voice? I would never ever be able to touch you, hold you, feel you. I would never smell you. I remember thinking all of these things and being so scared.

I started clawing my way back. If it was just one last look, one last kiss, one last ‘I love you’, I had to have it.

Calling out for you was hard. I couldn’t find my voice. I frantically fought to open my eyes and when I did the doctor was there. His voice faded in, but I was still far away. I felt tired and weak. Just a second before I was slowly sinking into my eternity of sleep and now I’m fighting with everything I have to claw and climb. In my head I was screaming your name. Calling and calling for you. Begging my body to give me just a few more moments. As the doctor’s face began to come more and more into focus, so did his voice.
‘Keep your eyes open, Laura. Look at me. Keep breathing!’

Breathing. Oh yeah. Was I doing that? I checked. Took a breath in…. Like electricity I felt a jolt with that breath. It was just enough of a kick to help aid in my exhausting battle. I found my voice and didn’t waste a second before I used it. I called for you. Begged them to let me see you. I had to see you. Needed to. My one last wish in life was to just see you and touch you one last time.

But there would be no last time. I fought and clawed and climbed, and I made it. You were finally there, and everything was set right again.

Today I celebrate the birth of my beautiful girls. Their spirit and spunk, and all the color and fire they bring to the world.
And today I celebrate life and love.
Love wins.

a letter to my husband